63 years of age? Yes. In fact, 64 in 6 weeks. (God help me and God willing, 65 in 58 weeks.) And still no idea what I want to be when I grow up. And, worse, still fearful that I’m like one of BF Skinner’s rats—trapped in rituals of my own making but no longer under my control.
On the way to and from Korea last week I read a superb novel by Douglas Kennedy: State of the Union. I ended up bending the corner of three pages, on which I found the following quotes:
“We make our own traps.”
“We construct our own cage.”
“We build our own roadblocks.”
It’s hardly a new idea, for you or me. Still, they got/have gotten under my skin. Deep. Embedded. In fact I’m using them as my Desktop Background. And it’s driving me stark raving mad. Looking at the damnable, devilish quotes—hour in and hour out.
Obvious ideas. Axioms. But “troubling” “disturbing” “madness making” “barf-bag inducing” nonetheless.