Looking back now, my vision seems to cloud as I recall all those years of youth spent trying to feel my way through life. A bit like you do when you’re walking to the kitchen in total darkness for a midnight snack, with your arms outstretched feeling the space in front of you and trying not to collide with the furniture before you can reach the switch and turn the light on. Once the light is on, everything is clear again. It’s funny how certain memories stick with you in times like that. I mean, I guess we do tend to keep the things we need, and the rest we can allow to get lost between the coffee and the syrup. Somewhere along the way, while I was waiting for my life to fall into my lap like, “oh, there you are, I was getting worried;” I think I waited until I realized I was lying to myself; it doesn’t work that way. Not really. You need to reach out in the darkness to find the switch; otherwise, if you don’t take that risk and put yourself out there, you’ll continue to blindly stumble along in darkness and collide with who knows what. Once I realized I was lying to myself, I decided that vision-less blundering was not going to be my life.