This is somewhat a bit of an abstract theme. What I mean to say is this is only an exercise and so from here on, I will write in a stream of consciousness. There will be no rules. No form. And more importantly, no excuses or explanations. No, this is from me.
This will be from the inside and with no apologies. I will see this as a means to clean house — and by house, I mean the one upstairs inside my head.
Maybe this is just a ramble. Or maybe this is a plea. Well, if this is true, then fine.
So be it.
Maybe this is my inner voice, reaching, screaming or shouting out like a kid that reaches home base during a game of manhunt and screams “Home Free All!”
Or, perhaps this is an extended hand, reaching out with hopes to be more than just who I am.
Maybe this is me yearning to be free. I want to be free of regret and free of the burdens of the mind. I want to disconnect. I want to let go and free myself from the grips of gravity that hold me down to inaccurate ideas.
I want to walk away from what we go through. I want to move away from what they call “the new norm,” down here on project Earth. I want to walk away from the riots and the routines and the daily rituals.
Maybe that’s not it at all.
Maybe this is me looking to speak plainly. Can I remove the mask now? Is it safe?
Or will someone see?
Maybe this is me being me without trying to impress anyone.
Maybe this is why I come here.
Then again, wait, you already knew this.
I want to say what I want without worrying about the world around me. I want to stop the conspiracy theories that suggest everything is some kind of crazy plot.
I swear, I see it this way.
I wonder . . .
Am I the only one?
Am I the only one that wonders if this is all a joke?
Maybe it is and somehow, everyone else already knows the punchline.
I want to walk away from the imprisonment of concepts, which is far beyond my control —which nevertheless, life is beyond my control but still; I do have dreams.
I do have my list of requests.
I have goals. I have hopes. I have wishes and feelings, love and desires.
I want things too.
I want to smile (and not worry about when it will end).
I want to hear the rebirth of real music.
(Not this shit they play now.)
I want to see the rebirth of style.
I want to be reintroduced to myself and feel free to give myself a fresh start.
I want to laugh. I want to dance.
I want to go to a prom that I never had the chance to attend.
I want to say thank you to a man named Mr. Nastri. Oh, and Mr. Schehr too.
I want to apologize to a few people and not feel the need to ever say I’m sorry again.
I want to reintroduce the “Do-over” rule because there are literally multiple times when this rule would come in handy throughout my day.
I want to stand in an open field with rolling hills and green grass. I want to be here beneath a perfect sky with patches of soft white clouds, puffy as ever, and there’s a big yellow sun, warm air and a cool breeze to flow through my hair.
In fact, I am letting my hair grow back in case The Universe allows me just such an occasion.
I want to hear the sounds of summer.
I want to be in that field (like the one I just told you about) somewhere in the country, far from the city life and city lights. I want to stand in the fields of tall grass and hear the sound of a single engine plane as it flies overhead.
I want to see a lake that I see in my dreams.
I want to see the weeping willow there too because this is a representation of Mother to me.
Mother; as in to give origin or to rise to. Mother; as in the deliverer of life and nurturer of soul.
I want to see more than just what I know about.
I want to get in my car and go.
I want to find a place that I read about a long time ago in a little city, far away and I want to sit down to have a bowl of soup.
I want to play the game and not care if I win or lose.
I want to abolish lonesomeness, anxiety, depression and the unholy concerns that rip us apart and tear us limb from limb, and yet, although the damage seems severe, all of these matters are only a form of our imagination.
I have wants. I have needs. I have dreams and desires.
I have urges, an appetite, longings, compulsions, and yes, I have cravings, passions and weaknesses too.
I want to be washed. I want to be clean. I want to be rid of doubt, fear, blame, shame, guilt and regrets.
I want to clear my calendar and start over without worrying where the paycheck comes from.
And ah, the farm. I want to see this before I die; my dream, the plans, the land it sits on and the people this place would welcome. The farm, The Second Family, which would be home to anyone that needed a place like this to learn, to live and to rid the demons that lie to us on a daily basis.
I never want to be so far from reality that I forget who I am. Yet, at the same time, I want to forget who I was to create new possibilities and become the person I choose to be.
I want this.
Then again . . .
There are old fears that I have, which linger. There are triggers that return me to old ideas. There is hope though. There is aspiration. There is the effort, which I put in (like now) and there is the benefit of my work.
This is good because I work every day. I work all the time. I work to build my sanity and deconstruct my old beliefs, which only kept me crazy.
Ah, I think I feel better now.
I wish you were sitting next to me. You would hear the sound of the keys on my keyboard, punching and slapping because everything I have in me is coming out.
This is emotion. This is the chemical change. This is the influencer that creates feeling and sways thoughts or plans because fear gets in the way of strategy. This is me telling on myself. This is me freeing myself. No wait. This is me being me and not caring if you or the critics slam me because hell, no one else has to live in my skin.
That’s my job.
I am tired of what I see.
I’m tired of the threats, which I hear constantly. I’m tired of literally wearing a mask, yet, I know that I have to so of course, I wear a mask. I do this and hope that yes, someday we will be able to put the virus behind us.
While I’m at it.
I want a grilled cheese sandwich and I mean the best of them. I want this and a bowl of good tomato soup but no. This doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me today.
(I’m trying to stay away from carbs and cut down on the pandemic pounds! The soup is okay but hey, the bread can be a bitch sometimes.)
I want to start another book, which I think I just might.
I think I might pool a few of my posts together. I think maybe I’ll put them out there into the universe once more.
Will someone buy it?
Will anyone buy it?
Does it matter?
Hey, look . . . .
It’s sunrise and I have to get ready. I have to sit in traffic and get to work. I have to dodge the daily landmines. I have to navigate through the concrete jungle, weave through streets and kamikaze taxi drivers, and park my car. I have to put my best foot forward. Or better yet, I have to put my right hand in a scanner and prove my existence so that my job pays me. I have to do the same thing when I leave too.
This is the grind, right?
This is life.
This is the reason I tell all the young interns to think and choose what they do carefully.
Life only comes once and happiness can often be all too fleeting.
So pay attention. Buckle your seatbelt and do your best to enjoy the ride.
We only get one go at it . . .