Who's driving the car?

There are times in my life, even more often now that I have this fucking blog, where I feel I have to speak in philosophically vague metaphors about certain things in my life for fear of starting a war of words with certain people if I discuss them in great detail. Yet, I feel I need to get these things off my chest. This is one of those times. So, I'm cracking my knuckles and preparing to furiously type away.

I've always resisted change. Not that I lack the ability to adapt, it's just...it's like I'm driving home, and while it's a road I've traveled thousands of times I absolutely hate the thought that there will possibly be some sort of detour along the way because I never learned the side roads that will get me back on the road to my destination.

I'm on one of those side roads right now, and Mapquest is telling me exactly where to go. The only trouble is that the road in front of me is leading right off of a cliff. Twice in the past, and now I'm speaking literally, Mapquest had lead me right to the middle of an open field. According to their maps, I was AT my destination, yet I was at the end of a gravel road and a cow was twenty feet in front of me staring at me. Of the dozens of other times I've used Mapquest, I've made it there safe and sound with no problems. That considered for the sake of this metaphor, the odds are favorable that I will get back home safely.

But that road ahead sure does look like it's going right off the edge of a cliff. But for all I know it could just be the crest of a steep hill. I won't know until I go over the edge. It's a leap of faith.

And suddenly, I have four people in the car with me. In the back seat, one keeps asking if we're there yet, one is screaming at me that I made a wrong turn back there and one is repeatedly asking me why I'm even on this road trip. As we approach the point of no return, those three people are screaming at the top of their lungs and there are no signs of them shutting up.

In the passenger seat next to me, the fourth person is telling me in a soothing voice, "Buckle up and floor it! Those people in the back seat don't have seat belts. If it's just the crest of a hill, we'll ramp up and make them hit their heads on the ceiling. If it's a cliff, we're the only two with airbags. At the very least, either way they're gonna shut the hell up very quickly."

I'm trying to focus on the soothing voice as I step on the gas, but the screaming voices are making me swerve all over the place. Three sets of hands come up from the back seat, trying to grab the emergency brake. I'm fighting them off with one hand and steadying the wheel with the other. I look to the passenger seat, and the fourth person is smiling at me saying, "Yeah, let's do it!"

Right now, at this very moment, I'm freeze-framed at the moment before we reach the edge. And to make this a metaphor within a metaphor, the batteries to the remote control are now dead.

For tonight, I'm just gonna turn off the TV. I'll find new batteries tomorrow.