This feels like such a critical time in my life. I feel like I wish I had a personal secretary, someone to help me with all of my deadlines. Someone to say, “Mr. Scott, you have an appointment at 4, you have to have to have your lunch at 2 because of the late morning seminar, the counseling department called and is awaiting your response, and your laundry, well, it can’t go another day.” Each day I wake and I think, “What is due?…Did I miss anything?…Am I on top of all of my requirements?…Applications?…Are my finances in order?…Should I exercise now?…Am I doing well enough?…Am I going to make it?…What’s next?” The list goes on and on, and I think how different this life is compared the days when I just had a job with the weekends off. Nowadays, the weekends come, but that doesn’t mean a thing. Guilt creeps in if I spend a moment to rest or watch a movie, and I feel like if I miss one solitary piece of the puzzle, the entire building is going to come crashing down.
One thing I noticed about leaving on business to the hometown where I attended high school is that some things just don’t change, excepting the fact that everything seems a lot emptier. I don’t know what I expected to see. I drove through the area and I couldn’t think of anyone I had any desire to reunite with. Wait, I take that back; I can think of some people I’d like to look up, but not in the condition I’m in. Some of the buildings were in the near same state as when I left, the streets all led to the same places, and the fact that a huge shopping center went up next to the freeway didn’t seem that shocking; seemed almost appropriate. At any rate, the nostalgic drive simply motivated me further in the correct direction: the future. What is there to observe in the graveyard of memories other than bones and dirt?
Every once in a while I am confronted with bizarre sights, and they help me to clarify in my mind, with illuminating proximity, the diversity by which the world operates. Seeing this old Asian couple with a couch on a shopping cart waiting for the light to turn green made me forget all my troubles for a moment. They looked so hospitable, so amiable, so unconcerned with whatever the world might think of them. They were very diligent about observing safety, as far as safety is concerned with regard to manual couch transportation goes I guess. I think I liked seeing them because that is where I hope I’ll see myself–no, not in the middle of road facing deadly traffic–but being old and happy and content with whatever it is I’m doing in spite of. Hopefully I’ll have a truck by then in case I need to move a couch.
There was also a round of thanks I wanted to send out to those that responded with such warmth to the previous post. What a terrible subject to have to blog about, but the ongoing, haunting nature of the case prompted me to act when I saw the photograph taken less than a month ago. It’s one of those things that I simply can’t believe is actually happening, it’s so weird, yet it’s reality. Reality has to be blogged sometimes.
Thank you, I never thought I would have acquired such a lovely group of friends through the internet.