I can’t sleep, but I don’t have the energy (or motivation at this hour) to do anything very productive and so I’ve been going through the files on my laptop to free up some space. I like doing this every once in a while because it’s a little like digging through that shoebox on the top shelf of your closet. You know the one… the one with letters, postcards & pictures from from friends and old penpals. You find pictures you don’t remember taking and letters you don’t remember writing and it’s all a great flood of memories coming back to you at once. And just like the shoebox I find little gems like this in folders stashed away randomly on my hard drive, like a computer journal I began keeping earlier this year. And while reading one of the entries I thought perhaps it was one I had shared, but it turns out I hadn’t and so I feel like sharing it today. 
I hope you enjoy this little excerpt from my journal.
On a Plane from Phoenix to Kansas City
March 22, 2006
There’s something about flying on an airplane, maybe it’s the cabin pressure, but I always get this sense of wonder. I literally feel like I’m on top of the world so to speak. But usually I’m also in the process of reading a really inspiring book which is much like having a wonderful dream (for me anyway.) What I mean to say is, inspiration and intoxicating dreams give me the sense of being elated, and I strive to have that feeling more than I achieve it, because it’s what keeps me going. Right now I’m reading “Veronika Decides to Die†and like all of Paulo Coelho’s books they are deeply rooted in the main character finding themselves and breaking ties with the normal roots of society.
I know I’m not the only one, but it feels like he’s telling a story that could be my own life story. A girl bored with the same day in and day out routines. Life isn’t bad, but it’s not exceptional either. She decides to swallow a handful of sleeping pills in hopes to end now what will surely be years of the same boring monotonous life she lives now. Only, it goes wrong and she wakes up in a mental hospital with about a week to live, and lifetime worth of learning to do. It makes a valid point to show that life doesn’t have to be boring. It is what we make it. I don’t know anyone who wakes up in the morning saying they want their life to be boring, we all want exceptional things from our lives. And don’t we deserve exceptional for the short while we’re on this earth? I know I want it. I also know it’s a big reason for my frustrations with my own life.
For instance, yesterday I spent the whole day in Phoenix’s Desert Botanical Gardens. It was one of the most peaceful relaxing days I’ve experienced in I don’t know how long… probably since Europe, and that was 4 months ago. (4 months! Oh, how time flies!) Anyway, at the garden I kept running across this guy my age with long blonde hair who seemed to be enjoying his peace as well. I wish now that I would’ve spoken with him. I had 3 run-ins with him, and the last he was sitting on a bench reading or writing (as I had just finished doing) and it was probably that moment that I was supposed to talk to him. Only, fear kept me from doing it. I wish I could get over this absurd and irrational fear. I think if my time in Europe taught me anything, it taught me that the things I was afraid of really truly are as irrational as I always knew they were. Striking up conversations in broken English/Spanish with some guys in Amsterdam, or partying with Brazilian’s in Spain, or clubbing in Italy with our entire hostel taught me that my fear of rejection is only there because I’ve let what *I* thought others were thinking about me control my life. There’s just something about my current environment at home that’s a breeding ground for these emotions to control my life. When I’m at home I say, “Oh I’d like to go to the park today and skate.†What tends to happen more often then not is I decide that it’s not worth it and I head my merry way home where I spend several hours at home reading, surfing the net or watching movies. I continuously let myself stay in the security blanket of a routine that’s surely going to drive me mad.
Too many people, myself included, let themselves fall into a safe routine. I use my current job as a safe haven and security blanket, but at least I’m recognizing the problem and isn’t that what they say is the first step? I don’t want to be one of those people letting their goals float away like a dream upon first waking… perhaps that’s why people say dreams instead of goals. We’ve been so programmed to believe that our life goals are, as society would probably say, irrational, those personal goals are just silly dreams to be dealt with in our spare time, because life is too demanding and serious for things like traveling across the world to learn a new language. Pft imagine that!
Wow, look at how time flies Almost home. I love losing track of time because it assures me that time only exists in measurements of experiences - seconds and minutes are pointless… - moments, that’s what truly matters.
