It's a Monday; around six o' clock in Austin, Texas. Someone that lives here put on a Simon and Garfunkel record, and the little window in the room I've been sleeping in has a view of golden weeds blowing softly in the hundred-degree breeze. Everyone is going to the spring for swimming today, but after a long, sleepless night of sentimental tearshed and paranoid thoughts, I can't bear the idea of stepping out into the world right now.
I actually like it here as far as I can tell, but could I be happy here?
This is some sort of a weird, new-fangled mid-midlife crisis or something and I think that dating older people has given me the warped illusion that I'm actually in my 30's. What a bummer when those moments of realization hit and my lack of life experience and accomplishments are boldly underlined! I'm only turning 25 this year and it's not a big deal, but I'd at least like to have a place where I feel that I belong and can call my own, and my poor little museum of momentos back in Sacramento--my shrine to my own past--is regularly pimped out in my absense. There is nothing I can do except wake up in other people's beds every morning and pretend that I'm looking at my own ceiling through the eyecrust of the first two minutes of each day. Then, it's back to the rigormarole of coffee shops, other people's agendas, and the aimless passing of time until the next show, which is the saving grace of my lifestyle.
There is a great and shining hope within me that I am eager to suffer punishments for, if necessary. I'm an optimist and bonified lover of life, but everyone collapses beneath the weight of the unkown at some point or another, and what better time to start a blog?
I've known for a while that 2009 would be a profoundly pivotal year in my life, and my intuition has served me well already. The best I can do is to take it in bites I can chew, keep my eye on the prize and document as much as possible for my own betterment.