What's Next?

A blog asleep, with two pressed palms underneath its right cheek. I’ve punched the pause before (right before kickoff) — what works and storms, deserves its rest. 

Under a post-grad high, I’ve never felt more delighted by the entrapment of this achievement. While low, I have no choice in what I want; just wish I gripped the steering mechanism sooner, younger – when I was needier…

However, what has, have, had, is -- and will be.  

After this big and shiny accomplishment, I've gained an artifact, and like other avid achievers you hope away the looming risk of obstructed pathways, especially when their spectacle molds the vulnerable parts far faster than your plan to bail.  

But guess effing what? I’m on it, even if it ever decides to unrequitedly let me go. 

But I have addressed the unfilled pot holes, and the career calamity of producing fiction and nonfiction, because the id (Freudian Personality Theory) is fiend-ing, and the ego is trying.

The next might be honey. The sample was sweet.