bullseye

I realized tonight, as I scored two more goals for the home team, that my apparent offensive skill is just the result of not being able to hit my target. I mean, usually a goalie tries to judge where the person is going to kick the ball, and they protect that spot. Even when the player tries to fake, ultimately they must commit to a certain target. For me, though, I commit to a target that's actually about three feet from wherever I'm aiming.

My soccer game may be a pretty good metaphor for life these days. I mean, I definitely haven't quite ended up where I wanted to be, or where I thought I'd be, but where I'm at ain't all that bad. In related news, I'm starting to feel that adriftness again; spring must be on the way.

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