metaphors

I spent today - surrounded by strangers - in a big hall that looked like the home of a copy of the fallen madonna. No, I wasn’t in London, I was in Canada but in all honesty, I was nowhere. Nowhere, anyone I knew, could spot me. I was by myself in a herd of business professionals strutting their stuff and rubbing each other’s beards. It wasn’t pretty, it was the exact opposite of the first six letters of a freeform drama mystery thriller. 

At first, I told myself this is where I was supposed to be but the language and conservations weren’t anything like what you would expect between Lincoln and, say, Draper - two professionals. It was more like the last four letters of a freeform drama mystery thriller.

As far as lessons go, there weren’t many life-changing ulterances like J.K. Rowling at Harvard. All I heard were the weightless words of braggarts. So I thought to myself, I don’t want to be like these guys. I don’t want to walk the long road and come up short. 

I figured if my circumference is an indication of where I’m coming from then I better check my radius, sorry, radar. I walked out of that business seminar and walked back home and the fresh air that slapped my skin was the best thing that happened to me today.