This is what falling out of the raft feels like.
The raft disappears down a different fork and you're taken down rapids you've never experienced before. This is when you cling to any little thing that resembles a flotation device, something that you can float along with, and you come to miss it when it floats away. These things remind you that you're not alone. That there are other consistencies in this journey called Life. Whether these be friends or jobs or habits, you cling to them to know you matter, to know that you're still alive.
I'm an actor in an imaginary movie starring me that only I can see.
Will I find a place to live downtown? How long will I like my job? What's going to happen to my car? How will my relationships with people change? When the hell am I going to create some concrete goal for myself?
Right now I'm clinging to the band Mumford and Sons. Every once in a while, I come across a band--usually a particular album--and it just fits. Besides the way I came to feel about the Astronautalis album, Pomegranate, the last time I think I really connected with an album like this was a Janove Otteson album I bought in Seattle. Every song on Mumford and Son's "Sigh No More" album has an epic, passionate, explosive feeling that bursts with raw emotional strength. It's foot-tapping, head-bobbing, tear-jerking wonder. I haven't heard anything this incredible in a long time.
I'm trying to write more. I'm sticking to a story, with an ending I've planned out, with characters I've come to love. On one level it's about a robot. On the other it's about love.
It's also 4:00 in the morning, right now, which is not a good sign. I didn't know what else to do but write something. I hadn't felt inspired to write more of the robot story, and stumbling the internet was boring, so I turned to another flotation constant and chose a journal entry. I do feel better. I feel happy when I'm writing. I'm also listening to Mumford and Sons, and there's really nothing better. I guess maybe I'm anxious because it's already almost August and I know I only have the slightest grasp on what exactly I should be doing. It seems logical to move downtown. It seems right. But is it?
Mumford and Sons will keep me sane, for now.
I'll cling to them the way I clung to Modest Mouse, the way I once clung to Breaking Benjamin, or Brand New.
I'm not even tired. I could stay up for the rest of the night and not care. The idea is kind of exciting, actually. I'm staying in an empty house, got no one to worry about waking up. I might have a little breakfast soon and watch a movie or finally get to playing Red Dead Redemption. I really should keep writing the story. It'd be nice to get that one out of my head, finally. On second thought, I found myself getting tired while writing this paragraph, and apparently a part of me thinks that's a bad idea. I'll probably put on a movie and lie down after this post. See? Even on my own I can make good decisions.
AJ and I are doing alright. I'm so busy trying to figure out my life--as you can see by the occasional bout of insomnia--that I haven't felt in the proper mindset to keep in close touch with her. I figured we both need time to recover. I figured she'd been just as busy as I have. And we did finally catch up over the phone, and I was pretty much right, but there were some emotional differences between us that had her bothered until we spoke. I doubt that we'll lose touch. It's not like I'm aiming to move very far.
I cannot wait to have my own space. I do have a place in sight, but I'm having second thoughts. For $450, plus a deposit, I need to be sure I can give up on finding a place with a washer/dryer and my own bathroom. But it's location, location, location right now. I want to be able to walk to work and save money on gas and parking, and, if I start to feel really trendy, I'll put a hold on my insurance and file a PNO with the DMV. Probably not right away. I'll have to get a good bike first.
Well that's it for now.
- Left to Fry
P.S. I'm not doing that bold thing anymore. It takes forever.
The raft disappears down a different fork and you're taken down rapids you've never experienced before. This is when you cling to any little thing that resembles a flotation device, something that you can float along with, and you come to miss it when it floats away. These things remind you that you're not alone. That there are other consistencies in this journey called Life. Whether these be friends or jobs or habits, you cling to them to know you matter, to know that you're still alive.
I'm an actor in an imaginary movie starring me that only I can see.
Will I find a place to live downtown? How long will I like my job? What's going to happen to my car? How will my relationships with people change? When the hell am I going to create some concrete goal for myself?
Right now I'm clinging to the band Mumford and Sons. Every once in a while, I come across a band--usually a particular album--and it just fits. Besides the way I came to feel about the Astronautalis album, Pomegranate, the last time I think I really connected with an album like this was a Janove Otteson album I bought in Seattle. Every song on Mumford and Son's "Sigh No More" album has an epic, passionate, explosive feeling that bursts with raw emotional strength. It's foot-tapping, head-bobbing, tear-jerking wonder. I haven't heard anything this incredible in a long time.
I'm trying to write more. I'm sticking to a story, with an ending I've planned out, with characters I've come to love. On one level it's about a robot. On the other it's about love.
It's also 4:00 in the morning, right now, which is not a good sign. I didn't know what else to do but write something. I hadn't felt inspired to write more of the robot story, and stumbling the internet was boring, so I turned to another flotation constant and chose a journal entry. I do feel better. I feel happy when I'm writing. I'm also listening to Mumford and Sons, and there's really nothing better. I guess maybe I'm anxious because it's already almost August and I know I only have the slightest grasp on what exactly I should be doing. It seems logical to move downtown. It seems right. But is it?
Mumford and Sons will keep me sane, for now.
I'll cling to them the way I clung to Modest Mouse, the way I once clung to Breaking Benjamin, or Brand New.
I'm not even tired. I could stay up for the rest of the night and not care. The idea is kind of exciting, actually. I'm staying in an empty house, got no one to worry about waking up. I might have a little breakfast soon and watch a movie or finally get to playing Red Dead Redemption. I really should keep writing the story. It'd be nice to get that one out of my head, finally. On second thought, I found myself getting tired while writing this paragraph, and apparently a part of me thinks that's a bad idea. I'll probably put on a movie and lie down after this post. See? Even on my own I can make good decisions.
AJ and I are doing alright. I'm so busy trying to figure out my life--as you can see by the occasional bout of insomnia--that I haven't felt in the proper mindset to keep in close touch with her. I figured we both need time to recover. I figured she'd been just as busy as I have. And we did finally catch up over the phone, and I was pretty much right, but there were some emotional differences between us that had her bothered until we spoke. I doubt that we'll lose touch. It's not like I'm aiming to move very far.
I cannot wait to have my own space. I do have a place in sight, but I'm having second thoughts. For $450, plus a deposit, I need to be sure I can give up on finding a place with a washer/dryer and my own bathroom. But it's location, location, location right now. I want to be able to walk to work and save money on gas and parking, and, if I start to feel really trendy, I'll put a hold on my insurance and file a PNO with the DMV. Probably not right away. I'll have to get a good bike first.
Well that's it for now.
- Left to Fry
P.S. I'm not doing that bold thing anymore. It takes forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment