Tipping Point? Even Keel?

I'm not sure what it is. I am either okay with the present state of things in my life, or I am on the verge of collapse. It could be one or the other.


It could be neither and instead be nestled somewhere in that infinite array of greys between extremes. I'm not good with the shades of grey, though. I seem to prefer throwing myself out onto one ledge or the other.


I suppose that I could just stop thinking about which it is and go on with getting myself cups of coffee and meeting work deadlines and knitting the partners to the lonely, single arm warmers I've created, but that would be dull. It feels like waiting without knowing that there's anything to wait for.


It might just be I that am less than dynamic lately.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I am standing at the midpoint on a seesaw, waiting to see which way I'll tip.

bathroom bgraffiti 4

I could never do that as a child. Stand at the midpoint on a seesaw, that is. Other kids did it, and they'd balance for awhile like they were surfing before making the brave run down one end of the plank to leap onto the ground. Fear scaled my desire down.

Mr. Head

I preferred to watch from across the playground and finger the bumps pressed through to the underside of the slide. I didn't want to be the kid who got their teeth knocked out by some crashing combination of red-painted wood and metal bars.

Knitting, anyone?

50x365 #233: Bernadette

50x365 #232: Mandolin