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After so many years I’ve begun to feel like a barnacle.  I’m just hanging on to a culture I’m no longer a part of.  Still traveling through the water, but my surroundings have become strange.  The music is different, the technology is way beyond me and most of my old friends have been scraped off. 

I am the arm of the record player that has reached the end of the song.  The music has stopped but everything is still going around.  I am simply following the end of the grove, bouncing off the edge of the label.  My sound is annoying, my purpose is gone, the party is over. 

However, as I am the captain of this adventure, be it at the end or simply evolving into something new, the flotation device beneath my seat is this blog, and I can still inflate it.  I can add a twist, a sudden detour or quickly introduce a new character.  He’s tall, thin, needs a shave and has goofy spiked hair, because he is trying to look younger.  But if I did that, you’d think this was a Hallmark movie, which means there’d be a farm to save or a cute little town with a bakery that never charged for anything they made.

Forget that, I’m not going there.  Let’s get back to that barnacle thing, I like where that was headed. There are warm or cold currents that run through the ocean, the same as they travel through the air.  We don’t see them but notice immediately when we’re in them.

Also, being attached to the hull of a ship I can pass through rivers, or along coastlines, I can quietly travel through dark waters at night or the northern frozen waters, dodging icebergs.  I can safely pass odd and scary-looking creatures, knowing they are no match for this steal hull.

OK, so maybe being a barnacle isn’t all that bad.  It’s just another form of adventure.  I’d never worry about someone foreclosing on the farm or finding a dead body in my bakery.  Life would be good.