The Day I Bumped Into Cayla At Crepeville

I feel bloated with responsibility. 

I feel pressured to be a social creature to seek fulfillment, and I don't know why. A big part of me is wishing to retract like a turtle into its shell, to isolate, seek silence, and have some space to think. Another part of me wants to keep pushing forward through the thick fog around my comfort zone. Having these conflicting sensations is beginning to wear me down. I want to meet people and reach out into the world, but I am coming to discover that the world is a lot more complicated than I expected. Women are puzzles. The economy is an illusion. The world is full of rules. Everything I've ever wanted is out there, but no one's going to tell me how to get it. I just have to wake up each day as blindfolded as the day before and feel my way forward. 

Somehow. Hopefully. 

I'm not happy at Old Soul. I'm pretty sure I'm happy with Sacramento, for now. I've still got that urge to pack up my things and move again--I don't think I'll ever lose that, no matter where I live--but I also find comfort in planning to stay in Sac until August. It gives me a deadline. It tells me that I've got about eight months to make the best of this city. If that means that I get a new job in the meantime, then so be it. I'm still checking craigslist regularly. I'd do almost anything if they offered benefits and ten bucks per hour. 

I stopped by John's bike shop to chat with Cayla after work, only to be cock-blocked by the bastard and forced to retreat to try another approach. About two hours later I went out to Crepeville to grab something for dinner to go, planning, I guess, to try and catch Cayla again on the walk back. However, that small-town snow-globe effect came into play and Cayla comes walking into Crepeville while I'm waiting for my grilled chicken sandwich. I invite her to wait with me at my table. We chat, get our food, and walk back down the alley toward the bike shop. She talks about wanting to tune up her Spanish and learn how to fix bikes and travel. I never quite felt bold enough to ask for her phone number, though the question was on the tip of my tongue the whole time, and I fear I might come to regret that reluctance. Cayla's a girl I might actually like like if I let myself feel again, so that's difficult to interpret. 

Watched the movie Brick yesterday. Fantastic. 

Made a trip to Max's apartment to smoke a bowl and watch an episode of Family Guy with him, Kat and Huggy. Paid him back for Sean's stuff. Refilled my own stash. Tips have been good lately. Jack wants me to be his middle-man to Max, but I don't want to play that game with coworkers. It feels seedy, like the time Joe asked me if I could get cocaine through Tyler way back in the day (I never did). 

Katie and I might be doing mushrooms soon. 

I'm not entirely happy with myself lately. I think I'm losing focus.

I've been writing, though, which is great. A lot of me plans on focusing on the book for now and trying to get a finished product, something to share and submit. Something real. Now is the time to write a novel. Now is the time to do what I love. Coffee-shop in the background, or not, girlfriend in the background, or not... This will be the year I finish the robot story. 

Anyway. Life's a trip.

- Left to Fry