This has not been a year of good choices for me.  I look back every once in a while and wonder what happened, where I went wrong.  Admittedly, I haven’t fallen so low as, say, a cocaine addiction, but for me it’s merely a matter of semantics.

I used to know where my life was going.  I used to have plans.  Certainty.  A sense of purpose.

I have not fulfilled my resolution of the new year.  If anything, my emotional baggage has gone from a manageable backpack to steamer trunk (and this trunk has fallen on my foot more than once).

There is still one note of certainty, however.  There is no death more meaningful than one which is richly deserved.  I fully intend to deserve it.