The idea of mortal fear finally came to me the other day.
I guess I've used the term before, but I don't think I ever really understood what I was saying. I think I have it now.
I've always felt that all of this -- life, I mean -- is a dream or a movie. I don't have any sense of who I am in it, really. I don't even know what I look like. Sometimes I catch myself in the mirror and look entirely unfamiliar.
When I wrecked my car over the summer, I remember having lots of time before the impact of car vs. guardrail to think. I remember clearly thinking that those were likely my last few moments...

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Tooling around town the other day, I noticed a young guy in a little Japanese car, trying to gun his way around a corner. The back end spun around wildly behind him, and he narrowly missed a car parked at the side of the road.
I was fascinated watching him. And my fascination grew when I realized that I hadn't slipped at all that day. I'd never once lost control. Four-wheel drive is a big part of that, I'm sure.
But there was more to it. And if you know me, you know that no simple observation can stand without becoming a metaphor.
See, I was that kid once. In fact, I was him not too long ago, so eager to get to my destination that I was hurrying along. But that's just dangerous.
You miss a whole lot when you're rushing along...

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I love music. And I have to admit that in the circles I've run in I haven't been able to be really open about everything I like. My favorites, though, are the old songwriters: Paul Simon, Bob Dylan, Cat Stevens. There's a ton more. And there's Neil Diamond.
Neil's got a way of getting to the soul. I've loved the stories of his young days, when he was chastised for turning too often from the audience. He wasn't a star, really. At least he didn't think of himself as one.
Somewhere along the line, it all changed. He became a parody of a pop icon. He was like a joke. But to me, really, the songs were always there...

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We all have ways of dealing with attacks.
When I'm particularly stressd I can imagine myself a warrior, under siege from a dark enemy.
Often, the enemy is from within my own thoughts. Sometimes the enemy is from without. In those times, I can don a suit of armour to deflect the arrows of insult. I can lift high a shield to catch the hammer-blows of disappointment. In my own mind, I'm hacking, charging, bludgeoning the thoughts that lurk and grab at me with cruelty.
My armour protects me from things I cannot dodge or duck. Memories, deceit, harm.
Sometimes I even sleep under my shield, to protect me from dreams.
There's a price to pay for relying on steel.
Every once in a while, you need to remove the helmet...

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I was onto Vanilla Coke long before Coke ever bottled it. My friend Dana taught me to put a teaspoon of vanilla in Coke -- no sugar or vanilla syrup needed.
Then it came out in bottles and cans, and for a while I thought maybe it would replace Pepsi as my soda of choice. It didn't.
I was, however, unhappy with Coca-Cola's decision to discontinue Vanilla Coke. Until the other day.
See, now they have Black Cherry Vanilla Coke. Cherry? Black cherry? And vanilla? Wow.
So I tried it, and it's good.
I love soda, and as I've said before, I jump at the chance to try something new. Couple of things I won't go near: Energy drinks and the new Vault soda. A person like me doesn't need manufactured energy. I could actually use about 72 straight hours of sleep...

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