"Thought I might get a rocket ride when I was a child but it was a lie that I told myself when I needed something good. 17 had a better dream."
Listening to Counting Crows and feeling a little sorry for myself. The holidays are ever an exercise in delicacy and grace. I can't help but feel a little down as the year comes to a close. I wish I had a list of things that I was unsatisfied with so that I could cross them off one by one and move on about my business. Unfortunately, there isn't a list. There isn't a source. Just an overwhelming and suffocating feeling of not having done as much as I should have. I'm at least a little unsatisfied with almost everything in November. I think it's because I already miss October so much.
"I am not worried, I am not overly concerned." Tonight I will be with my family, and all will be right. Late tonight, I'll be with Leslie and all will be right then too. But eventually I will be alone. Friday I will be alone, will wake up in bed alone with myself and this feeling of dissatisfaction. I want to start a fire, deep inside, in the dark places where electric light doesn't reach. I want a spark, a sizzle, and smoldering sensation of doing something worthwhile. It's as if I'm walking across a bank of snow, sinking with each step, and my legs are fatigued and refusing to go on... I'm feeling a little helpless right about now.
I need a change of scenery, a task, a hobby, something to complete, something to say I finished, a craft, a class, a talk, a book, a friend. I feel stagnant and static. I never wanted to be a beauty queen. I'd rather write a book.
Quickly now, before it's lost, give me a shiny day with sparkling grass and a freezing breath. Give me a long drive and some time to think and cry alone. Give me a friend, give me a good book, give me an experience that I'll never forget. Give me an opportunity that I can't refuse. Give me the chance to create, anything. Anything.