yesterday I ran in pink running shorts and a fluorescent yellow Key West "smile mon" t-shirt. it was 48 degrees and sprinkling when i walked the long way to my car after work. i wanted to walk in the rain all night, but there was no one to do that with, and silly as it sounds even to me, i wanted company.
this morning the 2363 driveway is covered in sand-textured snow. i'm surprised the handle didn't come off when i tried to open the passenger door on my car. ice!
if it was warmer, nicer, brighter out today and the road didn't look treacherous through the window in the door from my floor-bed, i would run, far.
if tomorrow wasn't supposed to be the same as today i would take my day off and head somewhere, anywhere in my car. somewhere, anywhere. it's all the same. everywhere i go i seem to find something worth having and something i don't want at all.
i'm trying hard these days to be optimistic. i'm trying hard to be here. for awhile it didnt feel like trying at all. now, 9 weeks later, i'm trying.
money and working solely for it make me sick. but my debt makes me sicker. so i work on.
i want mountains and endless trails. i want clear air, my tent, some hiking poles and a backpack. i want to sit by a fire completely alone, listening to the sporadic crackling and knowing that while it may not be "normal", there doesn't seem to be much that's more right for me. at least right now. how is it that this life, this normal life, is so difficult for me? very little about it makes sense to me. what if we have it all completely wrong. what if we've built this thing and called it life and so we all subscribe to it and believe that any diversion from this norm we've created is somehow wrong or strange or irresponsible. there, i've said it. and i want to say something else-
i'm not irresponsible. in fact, maybe i'm the most responsible of any of us. why? because i know who i am while recognizing that i have no idea what i'm capable of, i know what i want and that sometimes i'm clueless as to how to help myself, and i know what makes me come alive and am willing to chase fervently after those things. because i'm unwilling to compromise who i am in order to appease people around me with a narrow scope saying that real life can only look a certain way. because even when i'm working 50 hours a week i go for ten mile runs, read books that make me cry, spend hours talking to a friend about how messed up i am and how i really want to change but just the thought of the effort it will take/is taking exhausts me. maybe the irresponsible are the ones who have houses and families and excellent jobs but rarely take a moment to analyze or work on their own person, or to do something or find something that makes them truly happy, or to be aware of a world outside their own.
i say this realizing that all my life i've depended on people with solid jobs and solid lifestyles. i don't at all think the wandering life is ideal or better or "the way" or any of that. it's not. but it's incredibly disrespected by a lot of people. it's seen as lazy, avoidance, unfit, unsuitable, not really living. they say when i'm 70 and still have to work because i don't have any retirement that i'll wish i had done something with my life. maybe i will. or maybe i'll never stop doing something with my life. maybe when i'm 70 i'll have my tent in the woods and i'll grow vegetables and be contented. or maybe i'll be going strong, speaking life into beautiful people in developing nations or messed up cities who have no one else to believe for them, who've been told they're a waste and that their lives are somehow unfit.
we create our own ideals. i've decided that much for sure. this "ideal" life of working everyday doing something i could care less about so i have money in the bank and cash in my wallet and new stuff piling up in my closet, it doesn't do much for me. i prefer my $1 turnips from the market to all the steak in a steakhouse. (truly!) i prefer mountain air to mall air and ocean water to chlorine. i prefer to bathe in a lake than a shower, prefer to smell like smoke than perfume.
and within this same body is a girl who glows when she puts on skinny jeans, pulls on her black leather boots, and straightens her hair. she takes mink coats for rich ladies and serves bloody mary's and mimosa's at artistic soiree's on saturdays. she smiles politely, jokes properly, quietly refills the shrimp coctail, and knows she is captivating.
it's the same girl who can no longer sleep in a bed, eats tuna out of the can for the protein, and could at any moment decide to head out.