gibberish

So there I was, driving myself home at a quarter to ten on a Friday night. It was crazy how I found myself alone on that long stretch of road; no one blinding me ahead, and no obnoxiously bright lights in the rear view mirror. That beautiful curve of street was empty due to the below zero temp, from folks either sensible enough to take advantage of a warm evening indoors, or too wimpy to brave the cold (good old Minnesota; just when you start to wonder about Global Warming, it reminds you of the good ol' days with an impressive blast of freezing weather.) Either way, for about three minutes it was just me in the car, suddenly impressed by the smooth drive and the faraway hilltop of lit windows. The moon, a day away from full, sent stretching shadows across the road over the treetops and a wide lake divided the highway from its quiet little residential neighborhood.
And then, of course, the short little calming spell was over and an over-cautious idiot blinded me with his brights from behind. Humph. Who needs the sudden jerk back into reality? Not me.

Another thought struck me tonight on that long ride home.
I've decided that I've been looking too hard--every minute, in every place-- for what most of my friends are so self-centered with. I need to stop looking. I need to distract myself with my own life, as it is now. The present is what's important. The past is gone and the future is impossible to predict. I need to be content with concentrating on what's important in the moment, in the day. It sounds cliché, but I need to stop obsessing and get my priorities straight; no more romanticizing. No time.

Oh, for heaven's sake.

If I'm going to stop obsessing, I need to get up the courage. There's only one chance, and it isn't as though I'd lose anything by trying.