words with friends

To those who know me, its no mystery that I like to talk. It's how I process.

(Hell, if you read this blog, it's most likely no shock to you either.)

Knowing this about myself makes this next truth difficult to swallow -

There comes a point when words are mostly useless.

Actions still count, for the most part. So I guess there is that.

Now, I don't want to seem bleak – I don't feel that things are bleak at all. Life is movement, it ebbs and flows, winding it's way along until we all reach wherever we are supposed to go. This isn't an endorsement of pre-destiny, our actions are our own. We choose every day whom we will be and what we will become. The consequences of our actions follow us downstream long after our realization of their success or failure has been revealed to us – often showing up long after the fact; much like lost luggage. Perhaps baggage is a better term. In the same way, our corrections often times aren't apparent without the passage of time. As an added twist they tend to overlap.

All we can do is keep moving, keep trying to make better choices, eventually the cache will clear.

Or it won't.

Either way, we will know where and what we are – what we appear to be will take care of itself.