Oh Apple, How Far You Have Fallen

In my previous blog, I ponder living life as a conventional 9-5er versus a more creative path. Much of my journey relates not only to other options I’m exposed to via social media, but also, some of the angst comes from thinking I was set as a conventional 9-5er, having been a serious student my entire life, and then suddenly losing my dad, my number one cheerleader, as well as my #1 role model for thriving in a hardworking full-time job.

Then there is the simple fact that the world that my dad grew up in, and frankly, that of most of our parents, is so different from our world in many ways. And so, can we really use the same yardstick? And if we do, can’t we modify it just a tinge?

On that note—below are related thoughts I had early last week, on why I at times feel like an apple that’s fallen too far off the tree…


Sometimes I feel like I fell off the tree of my father and got kicked by a farmer far downstream.

It’s like my car. It’s a Lexus. Wowee. But if I replace the bumper and fender with a cheaper part, it’s not really pure Lexus after all.

So too, do my mistakes in Life make me less of a testament to the great life my dad (who passed in 2006) led?

This morning as I got ready for another day of work, I watched as I once again tried to fill the Giant shoes of my father—my career is following in his footsteps after all. Sometimes when I step in his shoes I feel mighty, other times I stumble and trip.

And then I remember that my dad doesn’t expect anything from me other than what I am. That I am his daughter, and he therefore is simply in Awe of my very existence—the way I wiggle my fingers, for example.

So I decided to have my morning stretches today hold extra gratitude for simple things like wiggling my fingers and twisting my trunk and torso.

If I’m chasing after pleasing my dad, than why am I doing so with not the least amount of compassion that he would bestow upon me? He was always so excited to have a daughter!

And if I’m chasing after pleasing my own expectations or what society has led me to believe is expected, why am I even trying to keep up?

It’s impossible. A loser’s game.

I can never be perfect. I can only be.

As I am.

And strive to improve.

Little by little.

Step by step.

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