My brain is the way it is. It is a streamlined and crowded circular expressway, with many entrances and exits. It processes things horizontally, vertically, and diagonally and uses metaphors... because that is what an entrovert's brain does. Like my experiences driving on busy LBJ Expressway in the Dallas area or on the complicated Beltline in St. Louis, I might miss an exit or two and become lost on one of those expressways. And my thinking and the way I write might take an extra turn or two.
Within the paragraphs and sentences in this blog and my other blogs is a vulnerable weakness. It is sensory sensitivity with stuttering "I, I, I's". This snap-chat begins after watching the movie, Martian, and thoughts about life's purpose. Martian is about a fictitious astronaut stranded on Planet Mars and his story of not only surviving, but thriving.
Many thoughts swirl, with questions that come to mind. If push came to shove, and I ended up cast-away on a deserted island, or stranded on an uninhabited planet like Mars, alone, who would I be? What would I do? Pitch a fit because it was not what I was expecting? Deny my circumstances and die? Or maybe, on the island, dig deeper and dialogue with an imaginary friend created from a volleyball. And build a legitimate saving plan and escape raft. Or, on Planet Mars, resourcefully figure out how to communicate with anchor NASA, and on that frigid planet somehow grow vegetation.
King Edward followed his passions, throwing to the wind royal protocol and marrying a three-times divorced woman. Finding love, but never fulfilling his gifts. He felt like an odd creature who had lost his purpose: Half man, with uncontrollable passions; and, half crown, with a sincere belief in its continued existence.
Through God's eyes and serious determination, I will be accurately useful anyway. The jury is still out whether or not I will fulfill my purpose(s). I. Am. Entrovert. In other words, a mash-up of focused-entitlement, hyper-sensory, validation-seeking, and (as corny as it may sound, but surviving cancer brought death so close I could almost taste a fifth dimension) a child of the King. I love my King and my Savior, with a passion.
Don't worry, Houston. In faith, before hell freezes over or I experience my last breaths, God, the deep Anchor, will provide clearer coordinates and maybe a kindred rescue crew. And possibly less obtuse blogs, but I hope not.