Micro. Seems simple enough. Small. Little. Tiny. Yet somehow, these synonyms do not convey the whole story. Microbrews are not designated driver drinks served in a thimble sized frosty mug. They are hand crafted, exquisitely rendered small batch masterpieces, which somehow absolve you of the lable drunk mother fucker. A microcosm is more than just a shrunken cosmos. It is a perfectly sublime example of a complex system in an easy to digest analogy. Micromanagement is the art of losing the forest for the trees. Yet micro is also an apt descriptor when I think of my own self image at this crucial crossroads that my life has stopped at. Look left. I see fresh new pavement. Perfectly drawn lines. Sensuous curves, not too sharp, roll away in the distance. Look right. Straight. Flat. Lonely. Behind me, my road I've known for years. Bumpy? Sure. Some fucking nightmare potholes too Brah. The road I've traveled to get here. Finally, I could go straight ahead. May be some trouble up around the bend. For sure, some nasty fender benders that I will have to take care of. My heart says stay the course. Work out the kinks as they come. My mind, which is tired of my heart getting its way, says hang a left and lick that route from stem to stern. Revel in that smooth tight fresh road and never look back........................................................
