went to the coast for the weekend with my family. long lazy days at the beach, swimming in the ocean, dozing in the beach bum van, combing through mountains of crap at tiny town antique stores; I even saw a baby seal. life seemed to slow down, for once, to a pace that didn't make me feel like I was losing my mind.
it was a nice feeling.
now I'm back home and I feel like I'm supposed to be doing something, but I can't figure out what. it's disconcerting. last night I dreamed I was floating over swells in the ocean in the dark, feet first, up one side and down the other, my face and feet the only parts of me visible over the steel gray water swirling around me. strangely, I wasn't afraid of it.
today I'm drinking coke to stay awake, being bored of all my books, and wishing the air was crisp and salty instead of heavy and humid and awful.
on the drive home the roads were windy and the trees were so tall you couldn't see the sky. the music was a soundtrack and I reveled in the feeling of being between places. I forgot how much I love being in transition... once you reach your destination there are expectations, eat here, go there, see this, do that. in the van with the landscape fading in and out along with my consciousness there was nothing to prove. I want to feel like that all the time.
I guess my summer restlessness is kicking in late this year.
in a long tunnel that gets you through the california mountains to the coast I held my breath from start to finish, on the beach after a beer staring into the sunset I kept my eyes on the first star I saw, on the way home I came out of my doze for long enough to hold my breath through that tunnel for a second time. I made the same wish every time.
now that I'm back, I kind of feel like I should be more careful what I wish for.
as much as I still want the same things I wanted when I left, I feel like they are being eclipsed by a larger want... to do my time here, enjoy it as much as I can considering the circumstances, and get moving.
as much as it sucks on an emotional level, another thing/person tying me here is probably the last thing I need.
it was a nice feeling.
now I'm back home and I feel like I'm supposed to be doing something, but I can't figure out what. it's disconcerting. last night I dreamed I was floating over swells in the ocean in the dark, feet first, up one side and down the other, my face and feet the only parts of me visible over the steel gray water swirling around me. strangely, I wasn't afraid of it.
today I'm drinking coke to stay awake, being bored of all my books, and wishing the air was crisp and salty instead of heavy and humid and awful.
on the drive home the roads were windy and the trees were so tall you couldn't see the sky. the music was a soundtrack and I reveled in the feeling of being between places. I forgot how much I love being in transition... once you reach your destination there are expectations, eat here, go there, see this, do that. in the van with the landscape fading in and out along with my consciousness there was nothing to prove. I want to feel like that all the time.
I guess my summer restlessness is kicking in late this year.
in a long tunnel that gets you through the california mountains to the coast I held my breath from start to finish, on the beach after a beer staring into the sunset I kept my eyes on the first star I saw, on the way home I came out of my doze for long enough to hold my breath through that tunnel for a second time. I made the same wish every time.
now that I'm back, I kind of feel like I should be more careful what I wish for.
as much as I still want the same things I wanted when I left, I feel like they are being eclipsed by a larger want... to do my time here, enjoy it as much as I can considering the circumstances, and get moving.
as much as it sucks on an emotional level, another thing/person tying me here is probably the last thing I need.
