I’m often caught in this circular mind frame that has me going around and around in circles wondering which direction is inevitably the correct direction.

I like analogies. I like taking real world simple things and comparing them to the way I feel, or the way I see things. Sort of an anthropomorphism of comparison… if that’s even possible – I’m unsure.

But I feel trapped in a traffic circle. I have momentum to continue on, I have persuasive direction of a forward movement, but I’m in constantly going ahead and back to and from the same position.

For the longest time the actual definition of insanity was that of attempting the same things over and over again while expecting different results. And I wonder now if that classification could so easily be used, then how easily it could now be misused. I’m not insane. Not clinically I’m sure. My quips and querps and all the Q words that come to mind do tend to make me a bit neurotic of course.  And on more than one occasion I’ve been told by the so call professionals that my habits are boarding on those of someone with OCD. Though I can’t give an professional opinion or insight into my own abilities or disabilities without spending far far too much time analyzing shit that just doesn’t need to be analyzed I can respect the very bitty little center of truth that all of those things materializes, and that’s of having an answer.

Where are we going. Where am I going. Why am I here. Is there a god. Is there justice. Honestly. Humanity. Anything, anymore.

Pose big questions, expect shit answers.

There are generally two lines of thinking in regards to the big life questions, I’ve found.

Those who want to genuinely believe that their purpose on the planet is for more than what they feel they are accomplishing and therefore continue to move in a forward motion all their own in order to feel as though they are taking the correct steps towards some pre determined place of accomplishment or greatness, or destiny.

And those who ignore all excerpts of chance. Base all things life on other things outside of themselves, relinquishing control to a higher power, an unseen force, as they react as the pawn (I mean that term endearingly not derogatorily)  or rather lay their lives in the hands of faith to drive them towards their desintiation.

Let’s say I’m a ford focus. I’m a practicle car, that is good on gas and easy to maintain. I function very efficiently with very little effort from any outside source. The gas – or drive to propel myself forward – is relatively easy to come by.  Supply and demand make it impossible to go a few kilometers without having a refueling station. My needs are basically met. Should I have a breakdown, there are people outside of my knowledge base that have taken their own path and molded it around the knowledge on how to fix things that may go wrong with me. Mechanics or psychiatrists. All with fundamentally the same goal in mind (ie fix the problem) but many with differing opinions (alternators vs OCD).

But let’s say I’ve just gotten back from a trip to the mechanic, I’ve had my tune up, my tank is full and I’m ready to hit the road. I now have decisions to make. Do I turn left? Do I turn right? Where AM I going? Forward? Even in reverse, as with cars for this analogy and in life, we rarely find constructive ways of moving backwords. It’s done at minimum. Always.

And to make matters worse for reverse, everything is just that – reversed! Left becomes right. Right becomes left. We have to rely on other perspectives to make it through to a point where we can go forward again. Side mirrors, rear view, back up cameras. All designed to make it easier to get going forward again.

And then once the road is open, a general direction is in mind, here comes a traffic circle. Though by design, the roundabout is quite genius. Used in many metropolitan areas to cease admissions from stop light time, to increase the flow of traffic, to generally make things easier for all those other cars on the road.

But aside from people in the UK I don’t think anyone really knows how to even use one.

So I am signaling in, the inside lane. Decision time is coming at me faster than expected. I need to signal out, I need to choose an exit.  People before me clever enough to remember little details write maps, they write directions so I’ll have a pretty good idea of where each exit will take me.  They worked hard to preserve their own trips just so I could have things a little easier when I make an attempt to take mine. Gratitude? Is that what I’m supposed to feel? Or slight annoyance that someone was here before me, and has everything already laid out on paper for me to read, it takes all the guess work out of growing up, knowing that I’m Supposed to turn left, I’m supposed to turn right, I’m supposed to merge into oncoming traffic if I want to get to my destination fully intact and in record time.

Yes. Slight annoyance. I want to create my own fucking map. And furthermore, I want to drive right off the side of the curb and take my family sedan sensible car loving ass into the grass. Into the field. Into the places I’m not supposed to go, or I guess sort of even by law, vehicular speaking, not allowed to go.

And why not? Why am I not allowed to drive on the grass? Infrastructure destruction? stepping out of line of the societal norms? Granted, It would look pretty damn stupid of me to be caught in the middle of a field, out of gas, stalled in space. Just as it would look pretty damn stupid of me to quit 36 jobs in 10 years. To move 19 times in just as many. To sell my life and drive. But I’ve done it. That’s me. That’s what I do. And even though this weird sense of structure , this right turn exit, that I’m supposed to love and crave and embrace is staring me in the face, all I really ever wanted to do was drive over the curb.

There is a great quote from a movie somewhere that says “And all of a sudden, even though you have a place where you put all your shit, the idea of home is gone.”

I guess the next big question I’ll have to sit down and ask myself is…well if I’m a ford focus, who the fuck is driving?