I feel like a flake when “pondering scenarios for my life” since seemingly moment to moment they flip and they flop, they vacillate and shimmer upon the road ahead. Maybe not because I don’t know what I want but because I want everything, I am greedy for life. I want to live all the lives, be all the incarnations of myself. I don’t want to deny any facet of my authenticity but instead want to embrace and cherish each crazy version. After throwing off the yoke of censorship and falseness from my life, I feel compelled to avoid shutting off dreams and skirting paths, even though in reality they perhaps conflict or deviate wildly. One self cries out for the isolation and seclusion of the countryside, skies full to bursting with nighttime stars. Another self longs to return to living in a historic district, full of neighborhood coffee shops and jasmine walks. In other moments all I want in life is loft living with the never-ceasing buzz and thrum of being smack dab in the middle of it all. Each one in turn is shoved aside by the gal who doesn’t want to be troubled with moving yet again and who adores the perfect tiny apartment and the screen porch looking out upon the pines.