“Mother tells me. . . If I hold out here and I lay siege to Troy, my journey home is gone, but my glory never dies. If I voyage back to the fatherland I love, my pride, my glory dies. . . .”
The fates present two strands. The first is intertwined with laurel and emits a heavenly glow. The another is a mild shade of lavender, a beautiful bore. This seems to be a choice between an iPhone or a Nexus, Coke or Pepsi, McDonalds or Burger King. However, upon second glance, the former thread is painfully thin and pinky-length while the latter could have been a lock of Samson’s hair. A scrap of the gods’ fabric or yards of a mortal’s?
I see myself lazily skimming a white-sand beach. Gentle wind and clear-blue waters. Sun so bright and skies so blue that they seem to wage war on my rods and cones with their intensity. I float on an inflatable lounge chair, complete with adjunct side-table replete with my favorites: Vietnamese green tea, ironically a shade of black, and the most tenacious coffee ice-cream I’ve ever seen, refusing to succumb to the sunlight. My version of the lavender string. As inviting as it is, I can’t stay.
By the time I decide on the second, I would have already seized the first. In my mind, flawless isn’t synonymous to perfect. I wouldn’t be satisfied by simply sitting still. To me, perfection is in constant struggle and uncertainty. What separates me from the typical gambling addict is an ability to influence the outcome. I don’t charge into battles blindfolded, untrained and empty-handed. Thorough or brief, I have already scouted the battlefield and enemy ranks. Furthermore, I find that the harder I work, the better my luck gets, but still, I win some and I lose some. A power smoothie of frustration and disappointment impels me to pick myself up and keep going. Caught up in the moment, I can disregard the rapidly fraying golden string. Ignoring fear and wielding a laptop, I meet challenges with no intention to lose.