Legendary Blog

How many times have we uttered the phrase, “That was a waste of time.”   As good as our intentions may be, the outcome clearly did not pan out the way we wished it to.

Hours upon hours of time invested into something, and the result goes unnoticed.  Perhaps it’s trying to figure out how to use a new piece of seemingly cryptic technology. Maybe it’s an attempt at learning a new language.  It could be time spent exercising, consoling others, studying, reading, helping, conversing, or just showing some support, and yet nobody really seems to notice.

We tend to measure our investments based off the worth other people see in them.  But any experience you engage in runs deeper than the perception others create.

Walt Disney World is a wonderful example of this.  Described as a magical place, Disney has an atmosphere of sheer wonder and awe.  How did Disney come to be what it is?  Investments.  Many of which go unknown, but no doubt play a pivotal roll into creating this living fantasy.

It was a hazy Tuesday afternoon and I was driving home from the store.  Buildings passed on either side, cars turned into distant colored blurs, and I had failed to notice the radio had been in commercials for the past three minutes.  I was completely spaced out.

As I sat at a stoplight, I turned my head to see two kids tippy-toeing across a window ledge of a local shop.

Both were smiling as they teetered on the edge of the ridge of the store.  They tried so desperately not to fall, like world would end if they did.

I wondered what they were thinking.  Were they scaling a steep cliff on the coast of a distant country. Perhaps they were secret agents shuffling across the side of a skyscraper.  Maybe they were in the jungle crossing over one of those wobbly wooden bridges that doesn’t break until you are directly in the middle of it.

The possibilities are endless just like a child’s imagination.  Here I was, zoned out on a dreary day in north New Jersey.  And these two little kids were off on some extravagant expedition just a few yards away.

I thought to myself, I just don’t find that type of stuff fun anymore.  It made me realize that my imagination is not what it used to be.

I was recently in Quebec City.  After I briefly unpacked some of my clothes I realized I hadn’t eaten anything yet that day. I bundled up and walked out through the revolving hotel door.  As I looked around, piles of snow cut out the borders of the streets, while a thin, mushy slush covered the well traveled sidewalks.

I could see my breath instantly hitting the air as I tried to decipher the French signs cryptically hiding any real means of me being able to navigate this city.  I walked down a narrow street illuminated by a series of tall standing lamps positioned roughly every twenty paces.  After passing coffee shops and fine French cuisines I came across this tiny pub nestled in between a restaurant and an apartment building.

I walked in, sat down, and knowing no French whatsoever asked if I could have a menu.   The bartender spoke broken English and between that and charades, I was able to order a beer and a pizza with a topping that I still am unsure of as to what it was.