She was at a crossroad.
When looking to the future didn't produce solid leads, she looked to the past for clues. Pictures, hairstyles, smiles, a way to gauge which phase was good and which was not. Meditation teaches you to name things so that you can let them go. Compartmentalizing is an easy way to understand.
A drunken phase, a writer phase, a musician phase, a motorcycle phase, a cog phase. Good solid friends overlap them all. The before this happened phase, the after that happened phase. Real detective work was at hand. Where did she look the happiest? What was happening at that time? Look for something that lasts.
She walked to the gas station across the street for a bottle of wine and some smokes. Is this falling off the wagon? Well, it wasn't too high off the ground and it's really not moving very fast if it is.
There were some real successes in there. It wasn't all bad, that's for sure. But the next move seems so likely, but so mysterious. Perhaps she had gotten more careful in her maturity. Perhaps flipping a coin and moving on gut feelings wasn't enough anymore. Life here in Seattle isn't so bad if she could get over missing her friends so much. She moved because she had to, and she could.
A woman like her can go anywhere. Do just about anything. But our generation is plagued with the inability to do. We can dream, whine, plan, save up, have goals and know that we are destined for more. We can feel like that next big move is just around that corner over there on the other side of the street. A lot of times we feel severely cheated and disillusioned. A lot of times we just can't find something good enough to get excited over. It's not that we don't want to be passionate; it's that we just don't see something worth it. The world is crumbling under our feet and even though nobody is being overly dramatic about it, you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who thinks everything is working just fine.
So do we find a job polishing the fine china on the Titanic? What if we really like china. Corporate greed and nasty politics have people sleeping in the streets to find a voice. Shitty banking systems have good people being foreclosed on. Birds are falling dead from the sky, fish are washing up lifeless. Husbands and wives are cheating on each other and getting divorced. Doctors are living in mansions and refusing to treat the poor. Alcoholism and drug addiction are claiming a high enough percentage to silence any great voice that could make us feel better. People are screwing other people over out of necessity. We work jobs we hate just to survive. Where is the humanity? Who has time for love anymore?
She started looking for an empty can, to turn it on its side and crush one side in a little, use a safety pin to poke some holes. Shit. Not one goddam can in this apartment. She took the hippie water bottle, burned a mouth hole in the side of it, took some tin foil and formed a perfect bowl, took her post earring out and gave it some holes. It was like she had gone to weed college or something. Oh wait, she did. Picked some leafy green stickiness off the bud that one guy left here earlier this week, and smoked it. Jesus. Was this falling off the wagon? Who ever said there was a wagon in the first place?
She was in this spot because she hadn't made a solid decision in over a year. Auto-pilot had her somewhere in Nebraska with nothing but corn fields on either side. Kind of forgot how to drive after this long. Kind of don't know why we got in the car in the first place.
If only a green light prevailed, she could drive real fast and real sure through it. Nothing is perfect. Only red lights and a whole lot of yellow. I suppose even a green light doesn't guarantee some asshole didn't run his red and is barreling right toward you. He was probably drinking.
If I go there will be trouble, and if I stay it will be double.
She acts real tough, but this place is getting to her. A roommate was a welcome distraction from what has become the middle. The middle, but far away from everything. There had been breaths of greatness, updrafts of awesomeness, and aftertastes of satisfaction. It wasn't all bad, that's for sure. But what is next? What seemingly shot from the hip move is coming on so hot?
When looking to the future didn't produce solid leads, she looked to the past for clues. Pictures, hairstyles, smiles, a way to gauge which phase was good and which was not. Meditation teaches you to name things so that you can let them go. Compartmentalizing is an easy way to understand.
A drunken phase, a writer phase, a musician phase, a motorcycle phase, a cog phase. Good solid friends overlap them all. The before this happened phase, the after that happened phase. Real detective work was at hand. Where did she look the happiest? What was happening at that time? Look for something that lasts.
She walked to the gas station across the street for a bottle of wine and some smokes. Is this falling off the wagon? Well, it wasn't too high off the ground and it's really not moving very fast if it is.
There were some real successes in there. It wasn't all bad, that's for sure. But the next move seems so likely, but so mysterious. Perhaps she had gotten more careful in her maturity. Perhaps flipping a coin and moving on gut feelings wasn't enough anymore. Life here in Seattle isn't so bad if she could get over missing her friends so much. She moved because she had to, and she could.
A woman like her can go anywhere. Do just about anything. But our generation is plagued with the inability to do. We can dream, whine, plan, save up, have goals and know that we are destined for more. We can feel like that next big move is just around that corner over there on the other side of the street. A lot of times we feel severely cheated and disillusioned. A lot of times we just can't find something good enough to get excited over. It's not that we don't want to be passionate; it's that we just don't see something worth it. The world is crumbling under our feet and even though nobody is being overly dramatic about it, you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who thinks everything is working just fine.
So do we find a job polishing the fine china on the Titanic? What if we really like china. Corporate greed and nasty politics have people sleeping in the streets to find a voice. Shitty banking systems have good people being foreclosed on. Birds are falling dead from the sky, fish are washing up lifeless. Husbands and wives are cheating on each other and getting divorced. Doctors are living in mansions and refusing to treat the poor. Alcoholism and drug addiction are claiming a high enough percentage to silence any great voice that could make us feel better. People are screwing other people over out of necessity. We work jobs we hate just to survive. Where is the humanity? Who has time for love anymore?
She started looking for an empty can, to turn it on its side and crush one side in a little, use a safety pin to poke some holes. Shit. Not one goddam can in this apartment. She took the hippie water bottle, burned a mouth hole in the side of it, took some tin foil and formed a perfect bowl, took her post earring out and gave it some holes. It was like she had gone to weed college or something. Oh wait, she did. Picked some leafy green stickiness off the bud that one guy left here earlier this week, and smoked it. Jesus. Was this falling off the wagon? Who ever said there was a wagon in the first place?
She was in this spot because she hadn't made a solid decision in over a year. Auto-pilot had her somewhere in Nebraska with nothing but corn fields on either side. Kind of forgot how to drive after this long. Kind of don't know why we got in the car in the first place.
If only a green light prevailed, she could drive real fast and real sure through it. Nothing is perfect. Only red lights and a whole lot of yellow. I suppose even a green light doesn't guarantee some asshole didn't run his red and is barreling right toward you. He was probably drinking.
If I go there will be trouble, and if I stay it will be double.
She acts real tough, but this place is getting to her. A roommate was a welcome distraction from what has become the middle. The middle, but far away from everything. There had been breaths of greatness, updrafts of awesomeness, and aftertastes of satisfaction. It wasn't all bad, that's for sure. But what is next? What seemingly shot from the hip move is coming on so hot?
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