So I got a motorcycle a few months ago, and have put easily two thousand miles on the thing since buying it, including a 200+ mile road trip to my sister's place in north Florida.
The most important life lesson learned from two months of motorcycle riding: sometimes, the response to a given situation is exactly the opposite of what your intuition will tell you. For instance, taking a turn too fast: don't hit the brakes. Engaging the brakes will straighten out the bike and increase your turn radius. That is bad. If you must brake, brake very very very very gently. Or, better yet, lean harder into the turn (unless you're already scraping pegs) and gently roll on the throttle as appropriate to maintain speed.
Lesson: intuition isn't everything, and your brain has veto power. My heart tells me I should just quit and go back to my old life of idle reflection, but then my brain reminds me that that life was unlivable, too. I'm a year older, and regretting going to grad school, but only because it's taken some sacrifices to become good at it.
I've been dating again, but in that half-hearted way you get when your biggest problem isn't your fear of dying alone, but rather, fear of failure, persistent feelings that you're wasting your youth, and worries that three years of balls-to-the-wall effort will net you nothing in the end. I'd rather just deal with the loneliness, but life is never quite so obliging. I'm terrified of becoming a sexless work drone, utterly incapable of relating to people who aren't academics.
Intuition tells me to keep pursuing her, that there's still a chance. Brain vetoes without explanation. I ran into her today, and felt nothing. We exchanged pleasantries and caught up with each other, and I realized how different her life is from mine. Last time we hugged, it felt like liquid electricity up and down my spine, and today, it just felt like arms around my midsection.
Intuition tells me to retreat to memory, of losing myself in a fog of regret and nostalgia. Brain vetoes, and I'm glad.