managing expectations… (yeah, I know, the tag line sucks, but just read the piece you have to just trust me sometimes)

managing expectations… (yeah, I know, the tag line sucks, but just read the piece you have to just trust me sometimes)


white clouds and blue sky
Photo by Ithalu Dominguez on

so, I am a big believer in taking that quick moment, a pause, a deep breath, before diving into the deep end of my day, just taking a peek at the world, right before I hop into my car in the morning, today was one of those where I remembered this exception, as I truly try, I fail to remember my mantra daily, even if it is my mantra, the rat race is a seductive thing, an all encompassing thing, a real beast of revelation, of distraction, it takes a moment of concentration to step off the running wheel now and again, so my observation, from this morning, was well… underwhelming, I mean, every morning can’t be some glorious spectacle of spectacular sunshine shining on my glib countenance, or even a resurgence of miraculous splendor to uplift and charge the soul with boundless energy, sometimes, well, often, things are, things are just, well, average, which is not to say that is a bad thing, beats the alternative, today could be one of those depressing gray days that, as a quasi-dramatic writing soul artistic type, I love to drone on and on about in some over exaggerated drippy gothic tones, but… it is not, the frost today, what there was of it, was sort of non impressive, sometimes frost can give a lawn silent dignity like a splash of grey on the periphery of aging hair, or it can provide a background for the glamorous glimmer of the sun’s refraction and reflections, no, not today, today it sort of just looks quite dull, tired, lazily waiting for the day’s rays to evaporate it out of it’s misery, the sky is much the same as I drive, there is the blue atmosphere up on top but not dominant, the clouds are more like ‘cloud’, one running into another into another, not pretty, or defined, sort of what I imagine the windy plains of the middle states are in winter, all the same for miles, sans buffalo of course, they can’t fly, well, at least not in this reality, I would quite imagine they would not be so graceful an avian vision anyway, their wings would have to be like an airliners outstretched just to maintain that bulk amongst the drafts, but since there is nothing so entertaining up there now I have to settle for this, an underwhelming mass of the familiar on a day not so peculiar, even the manhattan skyline approach seems bland, the empire state building looks dated compared to the gleaming rowdy neighbors that have moved in these decades, so modern, for now, but not iconic, at least to me, the sun cracks through just a bit right to left as I approach route 80, so I can see the reflection off the pools in the meadowlands, a tame swamp if there ever was, this isn’t so bad I think, how many ingredients go into this concoction of mood, and how we choose to stir the brew, perhaps a better steward I should be, for what I allow to influence the day, and little ole me…

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