In high school, I remember feeling anxious and abnormal for not knowing what I wanted to become. Ideas were plentiful; but that was precisely the problem. I wanted to be an attorney (oh, to be naive again), and a police officer, an astrophysicist, and a writer/photographer for National Geographic. I wanted to fly fighter jets and race cars and ... well, I'll spare you the thousand occupations that excited me.
One might think this handicap a temporary dilemma. But it was--and is--not. Sure, I pursued pilot certifications and followed my dream of flying airtankers, but that was an exception. The tanker goal came with complimentary blinders that I donned like a parade horse, and a carrot that I followed intently. Once I finally reached the carrot, famished, I found it bitter. (No doubt having spoiled due to the length of the journey.) Within the disappointment, however, exists a sweet motivation to taste other successes.
Writing is the one thing that allows exploration of eclectic interests, or so I thought. The more I plunge into this passion for the written word, the more people I find that discredit the notion. They say that a writer should have niche, that what they provide follow some sort of contrived theme, especially a blog. But I barely have the attention span to match my socks each morning. How can I focus an entire communication platform onto one subject?
Despite the advice of blogger professionals and Chocolate Dynamite's slim readership, I'd like to honor eclectics by exploring a variety of topics, relying on style to hold it all together. Think of it as a dinner party, where you are invited to move about and participate in conversations ranging from 41mm racing carburetors to killing house plants.
In the mean time, check out this race car powered by--like me--chocolate!