Sunday, during lunch, I wished I could draw. I'd have drawn us. Except we'd have been the only ones who knew it was us. Me because I drew the thing, and you because I'd tell you.

I was wishing that I could draw a couple of railroad tracks, starting out far apart but converging and running parallel in the middle of the picture. Farther away towards the hazy horizon, I'd have drawn a man and a woman. One on each of the tracks. They'd be walking in the same direction, at least for the moment, but still not quite walking together.

And they'd have their hands outstretched towards each other, but they couldn't quite reach.

But I can't draw, and I know I can't draw, so I didn't even try.

Besides, I don't think I like the railroad track visual anyway. It seems to me that it implies fate, and I don't believe in that. We're not on tracks. If we are, then what's the point of any of this?

I like to think that it's not fate that steers us. That it's much more random than that. Faced with millions of choices and opportunities during our lives, we choose our own paths. Right or wrong, it's up to us.

Sometimes, to be sure, inertia takes over for a while, and our choices seem to dwindle, but I think that's as close to fate as we get.

To me, the concept of fate is a crutch. An excuse for the mistakes that people make, and justification for the bad things that life seems to throw our way. After all, saying, "It was meant to happen that way" is a lot easier than admitting, "Boy, I sure fucked that up. My bad."

I forget where I was going with this.

Oh yeah, wherever I wanted to go.