You ever have one of those moments where despite everything you need to or could be doing, you feel like doing nothing and you don't know why? After all, the last thing you want to do is waste time. The day is short enough as it is. Books (school and casual) are piling up, the piano stand is full of new pieces to learn, the house is a mess, and friends are leaving messages to come out and see that show, but you feel like doing none of it? Maybe?
This is what happens when I'm tired. And bored. And maybe a lil' lonely.
Anyway so you start your rounds, calling the people that might still be awake and wouldn't mind driving out and doing nothing cooperatively. The people you know will forgive you for being slightly off and maybe just a little bit human. The list is short. And they're not answering and you're leaving messages just so they won't call you back. Because by the time your phone rings, the moment would've flown away and you won't need anything but mindless television, scrambled eggs, or your pillow.
If you had a lawn chair, or could actually see the stars you'd be on the patio. You'd be waiting for your neighbor (across buildings) to come out too, so you could finally ask why it is they don't believe in blinds or curtains or any window covering apparatus at all. Also to see if they're as attractive as some of your friends think they could be from several feet away.
You'd be picking up stones by now.
Instead you're typing away, because you don't know what else to do. You're sick of the feeling. And you're sick of telling people you're a writer when the truth is you haven't written anything good maybe ever. Certainly never finished, anyway. You ignore what the professors say about your papers. You're sick of moving and packing away each day and moving to the next because last time you checked it was already September 8th and goodness where is 2007 fading off to?
2007. You never imagined what that would be like, did you? Life felt too fragile and bittersweet to get past 2004. And even that felt out of body.
If you still believed in the things you did when you were 10, you'd be a million miles away from where you're currently standing. Wouldn't you?
Of course...
If a year ago that cop had known you were drunk or simply felt compelled to have you step out, you'd be in the same boat. Wouldn't you? And you've never stopped thanking him for that. Your friends never stop hating you (and him) every time they try to do the same.
Instead you've managed to complete another semester at UH. You've worked every weekend for the past year, and it's inspired you to work even harder. You've found a dream and run with it. You've explained your unexplainable fear of kayaking, and no one takes it seriously. You've celebrated two weddings, and an engagement. You've seen Laura. You've followed a band across the state. You've only arched an eyebrow when she said, "I had to try so hard not to jump you last night." You've smiled about it and the rest of that night later. Especially, "Did you know Jessie can divide by 0?!" You've grown (real) facial hair and a taste for coffee. You've found God. You've learned two instruments on your own through sheer determination. You've gone swimming. You've given up alcohol. You've crossed out Sunday mornings for the near future. You've learned how to shake your ass. You enjoy catching the looks you get at the gym, and the awkwardness that follows, maybe a little too much. You've become obsessed with that fragile, imperfect human connection between others. You've had an entire conversation based on existentialism through a fence. With a stranger. You've realized that dating for any other purpose than finding someone to spend the rest of your life with is a waste of time. And you've become quite picky because of it. You've become a health freak. You've been to hipster clubs where underwear is the proper attire. You've still never been to a UH football game. You've laughed. A lot.
You've grown up.
You hope. At least a little.
But when you mention that your life is hardly boring, she says, "Looks like someone's an instigator." And you begin to question the things you can control and the results you already expected to precede them.
I've often wondered what the end of my journal would look like. The last post I'd ever put up. I couldn't just abandon it, like most people do, without notice or explanation. No, my blog would need a final chapter: a climax, conclusion and a sense of accomplishment. Yet it would also have to be an opening chapter of sorts to those first stumbling upon it. It'd be a book in reverse to them, and would need a title page: concise, alluring and inviting.
So just picture me in between two suns walking vaguely in one's direction.
I'll let you decide if it's sunrise or sunset.
-Brian
