speak of this
but I'd love to travel.
I'm not sure why, but I
feel that my excessive irritation
with everything can partially be traced
to the stagnation of scenery. Everything has
been the same since I was six. Most family trips
were to the middle of Texas at the furthest. Once we
went to Colorado and it snowed. Two weeks of snow.
Some of the best weather I've ever seen or been able to
be around in my life. Bright and cold. I've always loved the snow.
It is fascinating and magical.
really sure what
it is like out of the
South. The furthest north I've
ever been is Missouri once and that
was many, many years ago. Driving north west
in Texas last week was lovely- I could feel the thoughts
in my head slow down while I actually concentrated on the scenery.
The physical beauty of the land rarely strikes me, perhaps because I
live in a city that is shaped of more steel than land
but I saw the green and the blue and the red
and my mind was quiet for a little while.
my car are
not what you'd call
best friends. We are temperamental
at best, due to a long and storied back history
and mutual disdain for each other. It isn't correctable
at this point, but I assume it will probably get better as the
years and locations change, and probably once I get the air conditioner
fixed. But regardless, she gets me where I need to go. But it does what it
is supposed to do and I am appreciative of such things.
But all of this
is to say that it is a big
big world out there and on
days like today, where I feel sad
and empty and angry and lonely and
there isn't a whole lot anyone can do to
fix it, I look out the window and I swear to
the gods that this is not the only world I will ever
not know when I will travel
but I swear