Lost in Thoughts

I am about to get in my car and head north, wide-eyed and thinking. I am wondering about this. I am wondering about life and the positions we have that interconnect to other people in all ways under the sun. I am unsure why people are the way they are; although, in fairness, I do understand that everyone has their own motivations. People are people, right? This means we all have our own interests. We all have our own needs for comfort and survival.

I am south of my belongings and south of the state where I grew up. I am hours away from my normal everyday surroundings and to be clear; I am out of sorts and yet, perhaps I am thinking a bit more clearly now than before. Maybe this is a case of stepping out of our surroundings to actually see what is going on. Is this our life? And if it is, is this the life we want; or is this just the life we have for now?
I think this is a valid question. I think this question is the dividing line between us and our personal happiness. Besides, what is life anyway? What is the meaning of it?

I am tired and yet awake, driving and heading homeward bound, and along the way; I am searching for the right songs to play. I am fiddling with the radio so that my mind can shift into a semi-glaze of autopilot—as if to place me in a state that is equally aware, and yet I am disconnected at the same time. I am just driving but yet, I am thinking. My body is in-tune and knows which way to go. However, my mind is there but yet; I am elsewhere and switched to the ideas of semi-fantasy, thinking about the plans ahead of me and which direction I’d like to turn.

I have been chasing either one of two things for a very long time. I suppose I am not alone with this. I have either chased the scream or a dream, and yet still, I am chasing this thing we call destiny. I am looking for some proof that I am on the right track. Just a hint. But, unfortunately, life often comes with clues and road signs but as for proof; well, proof is often an aftermath of results. 

I have no way of knowing what is waiting for me. I don’t know if my business plans will materialize or, perhaps this is a simple understanding that now is a good time to change my direction.

I have spoken with people who dislike their jobs. I have spoken with some of the greatest people in the world (only, no one told them and they don’t know this) and I have heard from people who dislike their supervisors. I’ve talked in great lengths about unwanted positions and new beginnings, and yet, as unwantable as they are—I have seen the response of what happens when the positions do not come our way. Suddenly, the unwantable option is no longer an option at all, and yet; here we are with the taste of rejection on our tongue, which is also covered with contempt. But yet, wait. Didn’t we say this is not what we wanted? Didn’t we call this unwantable? 
I see what happens here. I see what happens to our mind when the topics of rejection come to the surface.

I suppose the wanting has nothing to do with the welcoming or the ideas of being included. I suppose there is a long list of inventory here. Maybe this stems from our need for acceptance. Maybe this has more to do with our own comforts. Or, maybe here we are, grown as ever yet, we are still looking to prove ourselves. Maybe this is us, still looking to bring our report cards home and pin it up on the refrigerator; as if to say, “Look Mom, I did good.”

Come to think of it, I made a decision to step away from the crowds and the divisions of popularity. I did this a long time ago to keep from being confused with personal fidelity and the need to fit in.
I go back to the idea of “To thine own self be true.”
I am thinking about a suggestion from a friend who quotes the line, “Kill the boy Jon Snow.”
He said, “Kill the boy and let the man be born.”

I think about the intention behind a book called The Metaphorical Suicide: Destroy The Old To Create The New.
I think about the strength of our abilities and our inabilities to let go of our weaknesses—or as it is with me, I am heading home and thinking about the boy, the past and the metaphorical execution so that I can allow the old self to pass so that the new me can begin.

I am hours from the streets that I know and understand.  I am away for now but I will be home soon.
Soon . . .

I will see the skyline and I will know. I will see the city and I will understand. I will smell the air and I will feel the patterns of my life as they come flowing back to me. And I will face this when I come home. I will face the boy in me. I will walk the streets and see myself as I am; and for who I am, I will decide the “To be or not to be,” and yes, this is still the question. 

I do not understand why we seek acceptance from people we do not like. I do not understand why we personalize comments from people who we do not know nor is it clear to me why we internalize or adopt insults and arguments when it would be a lot easier if we were to simply let them go. But ah, this is nature. This is us. And I as said before; people are people, right? And so am I. I am a person too.

Maybe not always, but still, we personalize unnecessary information, which can be painful. Maybe this is only me. Maybe this is the boy and rather than try to mediate the argument in my head; perhaps I should let the man be born. Yes. Let the man be born
I think this would be best.

Come to think of it; I see little kids in a rush to grow up. I see them looking to shed their skin and enter into this thing we call adulthood. I wonder if they know what’s coming.

I shake my head at this.
It’d be nice to revisit the stressful times of Saturday morning cartoons. It’d be nice to revisit Mom’s cinnamon toast or have a cup of her hot cocoa. But for now, I have a trip ahead of me. I have to let the boy go so that the man in me can begin. 

By the way, at 49 years of age; I can still recite Bugs Bunny cartoons as if I just watched them yesterday.
Rabbit Season!