The Bane of Mediocracy

Talk about waiting to x-hell...

Last night I slept with a peace I cannot begin to describe. Throughout this day the rhythm of my life has returned and I can hear the comforting sounds of self humming softly in the background. I have been fond of saying I am a catalyst of change and not its victim yet I had been a victim of change and not its catalyst for an extended period of time. Last night, though, I x-helled.

How easily the role from catalyst to victim had reversed itself, and how smoothly oiled with fear that wheel was that spun me around and left me dizzy and uncertain of my direction. But there was something that terrified me enough that it never allowed me to allow myself to become entirely entrenched, to become what I hated most. It was the aversion, the absolute, unequivocal revulsion to mediocracy that kept me fighting, kept me warm when my hope felt like ice in my veins, and kept me swimming towards that shore that sometimes seemed like a mirage. I cannot abide in mediocracy, nor can mediocracy abide in me.

So, I lift my glass to yesterday, and thank it for peeling away layers and forcing me to peer deep within to places I often didn't really want to go. I toast the knowledge and the understanding that my mother would now label as "bought sense" because of the price I paid to gain it. I toast Webster and those early teachers who taught me how to look up the meaning of words for myself. But above all, I toast the fodder I now have from which to draw what will ultimately be a masterpiece. Promise.