I have no idea what to write, and yet, I feel compelled to write. The last few days have been a tornado of thoughts and stories, things I want to write, things I want to sound witty and elegant. Instead, I ignored that tornado and it has now made soup of my brain matter and I am left to function without logical thought or really, anything else for that matter. Not that this would come as a surprise.....
Nothing makes sense right now. I feel as though I am carrying weights with me where ever I go. I'm sluggish and moody and I feel like a brooding teenager who's angst warning is about to sound. I thought I was supposed to be done with this stage of life. This whiny, lets go to the cemetery and write poetry about how pointless life/work is, type thing is SO 2003-2005, and possibly portions of 2006-2008, and 2009 and March thru May of 2010. Ok, so obviously the stage is far from done, but if I could find a way to cope with it a little bit better that would be cool, so I'm taking suggestions, for the benefit of myself and others. But since I am currently sitting here emoting and typing to myself I have a, something, to pose to all of my loyal readers (Hi Mom!).
Have you ever been in a small, unfamiliar town that follows a freeway and you get off to get gas, or coffee, or another box of ding dongs, or whatever, and when you go to get back on you just can't seem to find your way? You can see the freeway, cars of many colors zooming by, and you keep turning down side street after side street only to see that gray concrete wall. You drive and you drive, no signs are in sight, and you just keep saying to yourself "Maybe it will be the next intersection." or "It's the next street.". With every turn you meet the same gray wall, taunting you. Eventually you'll stop and ask for directions, hoping the locals will know the easiest way, but inevitably they'll end up using strange landmarks like "old Aunt Betty's house with the white trim" or "that corner with the store" and getting you more turned around than you were before....
That gray wall haunts my life. Every time I feel like I've got things figured out, I turn, and there it is. Hard, foreboding, and completely immovable. My life is beginning to feel a little bit like Labyrinth, only without the creepy dwarfs or the be-mulleted David Bowie, although there is, arguably, a lot more singing.
David Bowie aside, I suppose my real question is how do I get back on the freeway? Or am I not supposed to get back on the freeway? Should I buy old Aunt Betty's house with the white trim and live in the small town of notknowingwhatyou'redoingwithyourlifesville and raise a small family of confusion babies. Or do I take the local scenic route?
Answers people. I need answers.
If I don't get answers I'm going to start taking myself hostage.
I may or may not know what that means, but either way you should be scared, or worried, or indifferent, or possibly tickled. It really depends.
This is all going downhill very fast. I should probably stop.
Ok I'm stopping.
Soon.
Ok now.
Now.
I promise.
