The
Flying Wallendas are circus daredevils -- tightropes, human pyramids, and other death-defying acts often done without a safety net, that sort of thing. I recently saw a taping of the death of Karl Wallenda, who was 73 when he plummeted to his death while trying to cross between two tall buildings in Puerto Rico.
The neurotransmitters in my head always have me walking that tightrope. In gusty winds. And sometimes I fall, like Grandpa Karl.
It's like I said to someone on one of my Traumatic Brain Injury lists, by way of support for his depression: Some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue. When you're the statue, you just gotta keep your chin up and try to remember what it's like to be that pigeon, to cross that tightrope successfully.
The only thing that I can think of that caused this was LJ Idol -- I'm out of the competition. At least the vote was close. Very close. Despite my early confidence-inspiring lead,
unsold_capacity pulled out 109 votes to my 108. (and now that I check the vote count to verify my memory, it's 109 to 109. wtf?)
At least I went out on a strong entry, and at least the voting would have made a great football game.
I don't know if I'll be "playing the home game," as I tend to work better when there's some sort of externally imposed deadline (that I can take seriously). On my own, I'm fairly unmotivated. But we'll see.