Hashtag Hercules

What started as a split second instagram shot {+} has morphed into a late-night ramble. I'm just gonna roll with it...

Instead of sleeping, I'm listening to the sounds of shovels scraping against sidewalks, salt trucks crunching by, the occasional yelp of a city worker earning his pay in the freezing cold streets outside my window. Interrupting are cheeky bouts of silent night so calm I could hear a bird chirp from a block away, if only ever there were a bird who would warble from a wintry city bough at this time of night. By the time the sun rises, the snow will have been tossed aside, much of it married with grit. They say grit is the best indicator of personal ambition and success. Funny, the two definitions of grit, no? Tonight is probably my last chance to beat the dawn and make my way to a snowy Central Park. I thought this would be important to me, to take my camera and spend some time in a snow laden sliver of the great big park at least once before the city has its way with her, but it seems that priorities and wishes change when the clock's approaching four and the wind chill is -10. My bedside lamp is still on. I'm in bed, but sleep is not coming. Typical. Happens every time. I'm facing a wall of framed images, looking and wondering what to do with them. The middle one is still maddeningly crooked, I notice. I'm realizing that these have been with me for nearly ten years. That's a whole decade. That's more than two presidential terms. That's two bachelor degrees. For some, that's a whole career. I wonder if I might not be doing right by me if I find them a new home. The indecisiveness is here.