James over at Love During Wartime has me wondering if my life has a theme. From my initial blank stare, I'm thinking no. Surely there has to be at least a thread that runs through this fragile accumulation of years that I call a life, that exhibits some evidence of a theme. Still, I'm clueless.
I suppose I could look backwards (a talent that must be good for something) and see points in my life where I might have had something of a theme going on. Doing this little exercise could be important to something I have been toying with lately. The thought of trying to write an autobiographical poem. Not a four or five stanza poem that summarizes my life. Something a little more lengthily. I don't think I am talking as extravagant as Eileen Tabios's brick. Still, something that could allow me to compartmentalize my life into segments with metaphorical adaptation. Why, I'm not sure. Maybe it would make a more interesting read from that standpoint.
Anyway, James has put a thought in my head (scary as that may seem) and now it is going to bug me until I can work through this and come up with some answers. I'm wondering if this is one of those things you can think too much about. Like maybe the first thing that pops into your head is more significant than trying to think it through in deep thought. Forcing it, so to speak. Yes, I'm obsessing now. Thanks James, for the ensuing headache I feel coming on.