The Desert Life

This is strange. I haven’t put a pen to paper in well over a year and before that even longer. I’m afraid I won’t be able to do this, or afraid I’ll unlock so many intangible thoughts this won’t make sense. I’m trying not to be reflective. It’s never been done before where I think without a vessel such as the voice in my brain or my tongue. This is straight to ink. I feel like I’m back in school. Pop culture flickers in the background of my solarium fortress. My itunes is loaded and except for this baby blue pen on computer paper, I guess I’ve premeditated this like a married couple has sex. I thought life was hard in high school when and where I was driven or “inspired” to write every week wrapped in girl jeans, black T’s, along with firearm and suicide like metaphors. I didn’t smoke in high school. (I don’t know where this is going). I’ve been procrastinating on this like going to the gym. I’m unhappy, very, completely. It’s odd how you can accomplish so much but still feel like you’re so much behind where you started. (I think there’s something there). I miss writing. It’s nice to record an entire one sided conversation so when you show it to anyone to read, they listen completely without interruption and for me at least, distraction. But anyways, back to my previous thought. How is it remotely possible to move so far forward in your life but seem like you’re 3 steps behind where you started or worse? It’s like renovating your house but the new high tech dryer ignites and burns it to the soil. You expanded your house logically to be left with nothing at all. Is it your fault? That’s where I stand myself. Wondering did I fiddle with something back home that was logical enough but boring as hell to be left with nothing. We’re so desperate to face lift our lives. It’s so easy to say “Hang in there… good things are coming your way”. Ironically I’ve said those words about a trillium times. But what happens when you can’t. I’m not talking necessarily mentally but when you physically cannot because you no longer have the resources. When the optimistic, positively charged electrical storm around you is unplugged by the hydro company and you realize you’re neck deep in a steamy pill of shit. If I had the answer I’d be winking and smiling a whole lot more. Blame it on poor planning, irresponsibility, laziness; it’s all of those things. Retreat or press on? I can still see where I started, where I am presently, just not where I’m going. I call it the desert life. The drinking water I had all my life just didn’t quench my thirst. And now I’m the one stupid enough and proud enough to look for something with a better kick with no map, direction or promise. It’s a test to see how long you can survive off hope not liquids. I know in reality it’s not necessarily a case of life and death but for the soul it sure as heck definitely is. I can always go back home for now but there’s no way that’s living, that’s inheriting. I love my family very much but I am NOT Gods version of cloning. It’s a case of working for a living or waiting for the lottery. Can there not be balance? Is there no hope for dreams at all anymore? I mean besides waiting for Extreme Home Makeover to change your Saturday afternoon with a bus and a megaphone. I’m sun burnt, dehydrated beyond belief and engulfed by sand but I’ll keep crawling towards the horizon. There are plenty of opinions out there I’m sure that will think this is a complaint and that I fail to realize what I have. (I’m guilty there as well). If you think that, you’re bass akwards. I know damn well what I have right now and unlike most appreciate it with utmost respect. What I have right now is a wagon. Now a wagon is a hell of a lot better than having to carry the weight of this life on my head but I’m looking for a horse to pull. It’s evolution. Maybe these hopes and dreams are all just a yeaning to evolve? I think it’s pretty obvious, along with the humor of all the childhood cartoons sparked in my memory derived from the word “evolve”. It’s an excruciatingly hard decision! Is there a breaking point? I don’t know that either. But for right now I’m 22 years old, its 1:30am on a Thursday night, Randy Travis spits from my laptop and I’m a complete nobody. Mirage or not I think I’ll stay just who I am. I’ve got absolutely nothing to lose because that’s life. *Important Note* And when life take’s all you have, just look it calmly in the face, make notion like you have something sincere to say, then kick it full force in the dick.