As I laying dying one day, I'm going to spend a brief moment thinking about all of the episodes of my life when I wasn't just wasting time—because a moment will probably encapsulate it. The rest of my life is just chasing one squirrel or another. I'm jealous, sometimes, of the people I've met who have achieved Supreme Focus while working on something. It's a beautiful thing. But sometimes I'm not jealous. The asides, the deviations, the sidetracks, the daydreams, the wrong turns, the missed connections, the strikeouts, the bombs, the faceplants, the wide-rights, the bricks, the clanks, the crash landings—that's where all my good ideas come from. Given the choice, I suppose I'd just do things right at the outset, but I've come to grips with being exceedingly good at crawling out of the broken window of a damaged plan and having Better Luck Next Time.
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