Chew on this
I feel like this is it. Once we pass the late twenty-something stage – we're on the cusp here of settling, foundation-building, whatever — we're close to figuring it out... but once we pass this test, that's it. Easy sailing.
It's been a while since I updated.
Pretty much my life has been like a chew toy... in a stranglehold by an overly eager bulldog (cute, boisterous, but a little cuckoo). Candice showed up again with a new Tumi bag, awareness and ideas. She's all adult now. It's weird. After a year on the road where I see her in the same three combinations of cargos, tanks and flip flops, it's disorienting to see her now dresses and skirts — fluttering, the image and the real dissolving together in the summer heat.
I guess we're all grown up now, clothing ourselves in grown up approximations.
So we're sharing a 200 sq ft room. There's about five inches of space between my bed and the wall, my pillow and the closet – my feet and the desk. But hey – they tell me that this is part of the fun – figuring out what the hell to do on our no-income/high aspirations/wickedly mythic.. life. I feel like this is it. Once we pass the late twenty-something stage – we're on the cusp here of settling, foundation-building, whatever — we're close to figuring it out... but once we pass this test, that's it. Easy sailing. What's next? I mean, once we get on a path, it gets simpler, right?
Does anyone ever say that the late twentysomething period is the best time of their lives? If I had a vote, I'd vote for college, or even elementary school (I'm going to bypass the 'tub of lard' period in middle school and high school).
She on her Mac and I on my Acer. She's virtually thumbing her nose at the Man while I, I try to enlist him to, to befriend and cajole him into seeing that I, too, am a responsible citizen of the capitalist machine – that I too can be an efficient cog of cogs, whirling away and contributing to the consumptive effects of our glorious civilizations.
Interviews. Searches online. Meetings offline. Going crazy in-line. Tossed around and buttressed by an absurd belief that everything will turn out ok.
Yanked in all directions. Moving to the West Coast doesn't seem so crazy now. Planning to uproot (again) is an option. The twist is – it's comic, really – that everything is an option. And when everything is up for grabs, deciding what to hold onto is much harder. Give me a goal that I don't want and I'll complete it double-time any day. Give me 10 goals that I want and well – it's a shame that we can't grow more than two hands (why are we so binary?). I'd like to grab them all. And shake them. Like a chew toy.