I've read lots of quotes lately that talk about one must travel, travel often, travel far and wide the depths of this world because life isn't meant to be lived in one spot. I've so often thought this was the mantra for my life. Adventures out there waiting for me, I just have to go find it. Exploration is just a turn away.
You know all ideas of that sort.
However...
After this weekend, never do I ever value the stability/consistency/warmth/security of home as I do now. Over the past weekend I have racked up more frequent flyer miles than pilots themselves. I have been in an airport for nearly 24 hours and then changed in a bathroom to go straight to work a 9 hour day. Which will be followed by a 1.5 hour commute home.
Pause for a deep breath.
After all things have been said and done I can look back and be thankful for my time traveling, but there's just something immensely draining about it. Sleeping on the cold floor of a freezing Denver airport with bright flickering (wanna be strobe) lights and public address announcements on fifteen second intervals, janitors vacuuming around my body stuck to the floor shivering in hibernation as if I was merely a chalk outline of a body like you see at crime scene investigations.
I flew to Cincinnati this weekend. Boy did I never think I would be back there in a million years. Still not sure how I feel about the situation, which is why i'm here to see if my fingers can relay what my lips fall short. Curiosity killed the cat you say, well, I beg to differ. Sometimes the longing/wondering can be ever more nagging than facing the situation head on. Yes, you may head straight for a collision. But with that collision you find out everything you would have never known had you sat back and let your curiosity idle. Plus, those that can rise up after defeat. Prevail in the face of defeat. Why those, cats I say, have the best 9 lives of them all. Your emotions and self-worth can only be killed with your consent, remember?
That being said, it's strange that I spent the entire weekend there yet still have no idea the point of my time there. Yes, we goofed around about... everything, bickered about... everything, but we still didn't get any closure about... anything. It's just so typical I don't even know where to start. I'm not sure if it's because Orson still thinks like a boy. But he has this idea in his mind... better yet an illusion of what his life is going to end up. There is a huge gap in two essential bridges in his life. The bridge between who he actually is and who he wants to be perceived as. Secondly, the way his life is going and the way he wants it to end up.
Until he actually does something... different. He's going to end up with the same outcome. I feel like such a mean person constantly telling him this but it is so true. I don't see any other way around it. And with me I'm not sure if he actually cares about me... but the idea of me. Because I am his idea, his way out of "player status" "self-consumption" I'm his ticket to a happily ever after. Wow this is weird that I'm putting this together as I type. I think he's not necessarily ready or wanting me now, but scared to lose me to someone else.
So action plan for me and him here on out is fragile. But ultimately, I cannot play pretend any longer. It's been four years and at this rate it will be another four before anything tangible comes my way.
I distance myself, because I feel everything. The little I am exposed to hurts my feelings. The only things I can really control are my songs, and my behavior. the rest? If I focused on it, that would lead to insanity.
- T. Swift
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