The Rub

Had I the wherewithal, I would squeeze an enlightened exposition from this keyboard - then sit back and rejoice in its reading.

The unfortunate truth, however, remains for all to discover within the borders of this three year long blog.  I am forever destined to be a third-rate hack; fumbling with adjectives, tripping over punctuation, all the while sipping on a beverage constructed on a hack’s budget, with olives that have already sunk to the lowest possible depths.  I know because I am down here with them.

I’d like to have the knowledge that lays dormant in my desk calculator as well as that which is glued between the book covers in my library.

Were I to make myself over I believe I would sculpt intelligence first, followed by feet that would be happy in cheap shoes.  I wouldn’t alter my appearance as I’m quite familiar with my reflection and Murphy’s Law.

I would give myself an attention span that would extend far beyond two standard paragraphs and a comprehension worthy of Mensa.   I would avoid plaguing myself with allergies, phobias, and over confidence.  I would add only a dash of charisma, a pinch and a half of ingenuity and maybe two scoops of Mint Chocolate Chip. 

I would reduce my dependence on cookies and chocolate cake, but certainly not eradicate them completely from my diet.  I would attempt to establish a balance of passion in my writing – somewhere between Tennessee Williams and Zelda Fitzgerald. (Although closer to Zelda).  

Given the opportunity, I still wouldn’t request any do-overs in this life.  It is what it is.  I remain satisfied with the time period in which I live, and have learned to accept the inherent inadequacies and shortcomings of the government, as it remains infested with people and therein - lies