I have a very hard time seeing past where I am in the present into the future, so I think back to college, specifically senior year, and I have no idea what or if I had any expectations of where I'd be right now. I hoped working in a theatre, professionally, somewhere East Coast, so of my most minimializing details, I managed to fill those aspirations.
However, I know for a multitude of reasons that this isn't "it". Many really don't need to be gotten into, if only because I found it ironically disturbing watching a movie earlier and an older actor was commenting on how this young generation right now (in which I am at best in the oldest category of) likes to blog their every single thought, no matter how trite or insignificant. So, I'm trying to stop myself, while being the rambling, angsty, post-adolescent I strive to grow out of.
There are people I miss in places where I have little artistic future if I want to continue in this field. There are places that are full of dreams, if only I had the financial means to throw myself into them. There are places where I can have a house with a white picket fence and buy every little cutesy thing I want because I'll have a house to fill that will be mine, that I won't be leaving in a year, or two, or three. There are places where I know one person for the entire city, state, but it would be such a great place to live. There are jobs all over, where I know not a soul, where I would be starting at the square one again of not knowing where to go, how to get anywhere, not having a friend or companion. And there's my great inability to see past the present to know which direction I should shoot. And not for a lack of effort either. I ask my present self what I'd like to do, and that person just kind of scratches her head and stares back at me, puzzled, perplexed, utterly distraught at the idea of change, that every altering state that brings terror to all.
A week ago I was in Lawrence. At present, I'm back at the ol' staff house, listening to Pink Floyd (I'm so bad ass, I know), after having watched not one, but two Redbox movies- back to back, no less- get down with yo' bad self. That's right, "Easy A", followed by "Going The Distance". The first, while well-intentioned (and with a not half-bad soundtrack), was trying to be a little too John Hughes, while being completely disconnected and scattered- I'm not sure whether to blame the original story, the directing, or the editing. Regardless... meh. Cute, but meh. The second, had a much deeper undertone. Very light and funny and jokey and Justin Long even reminding me of my own friends at times, but also deeper and harder and relate-able- something about that missing somebody who lives across the country thing- frak, that blows. And you can know each other so well and be so compatible and then not see each other for so long that when you do, you're nervous and you say the wrong things and it gets awkward when there's no reason for it to be. Not that I'm speaking from personal experiences or anything...
Other, bigger things- death. I feel weird "blogging" about specifics, because I feel like to put that sort of topic into the social media or a blogging atmosphere in anyway whatsoever is trite and devaluing somehow. So, sans specifics... I don't really know where to go.
Alright... this is a disconnected ramble of a post, the length to write equivalent approximately to the amount of time it takes to listen to "Echoes"- thanks Pink Floyd.
iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou... i love you.
