So you're on top of a grassy hill. You decide that you want to run down it. It starts off fine, a light jog. As the hill becomes a little steeper, you pick up speed. Soon the wind is rushing into your face and you feel magic-millimeters away from flying. Still you keep running; partly because you can't stop the drunken happy feeling, and partly because you start realizing you can't. As the ratio of these two 'partlies' lean more towards the Can't Stop, you start thinking about consequences. You are going to fall. Somehow it only makes you run faster, take longer leaps, try to control a losing battle. Then your face ends up in the dirt, hopefully after not too many unplanned somersaults.
This is how I take on projects. Currently I'm trying to juggle the jobs I've raised my hand enthusiastically for, while still euphoric enough to say yes to a couple more. Actually, my mouth says yes. I believe my eyes have a bit more window to an adamantly "nonononono" soul. In a few weeks I predict you may find me curled up in the corner, spitting dirt out of my mouth, singing Mother Goose songs to my new invisible friend Franklin.
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