- (no subject)
- May 21st, 2008
So, life is miserable when I'm not on the road. There's a surprise, right? I'm frustrated that I'm going to have to wait until the fall (which, with these silly boys, means winter) to see them again. Although it's better for me. I'm so tightly budgeted over the summer that I won't have a spare $200 to get airfare, never mind pay for gas, tickets, and all those other fun tour expenses.
I hate living so far away from the people I tour with. Granted, I live close to some of them - Kim is just down the street - but I really like traveling with Laura and Angela. It's always well planned out and endlessly fun.
I miss tour when I'm not on it. I miss the endless miles on the road, sleeping all cramped up in the back seat, eating shitty food from truck stops in the middle of the night. I miss running back and forth from lines to the car. I feel like I'm stuck, stopped in the middle of an adventure, and every fiber in my being is telling me to keep going, to walk somewhere, to run away from all this bullshit and responsibility but I can't because I have to live real life, at least for a little while longer.
Everyone is getting on my ass to go back to school. I don't want to. I tried that road and I didn't feel like I belonged at all. I felt like all I was doing was working towards something, that all I've been doing for my whole life was working towards something else and never once taking a second to live in the moment.
I took that chance last year. It started with three shows in a row. I got bit by it then, I got pushed in a direction that I didn't even know how to handle because I just felt like I had to keep running, keep moving forward down dark highways and through a thousand airports towards something indescribable. I can't reason it out. I can't figure out what's so satisfying about it, what part of it makes me feel alive.
I traveled 34,848 miles in thirteen months searching for something. I don't know what it is. I know I crave it more than anything in the world and I know, completely, that I won't be happy if I'm living my life any other way. Maybe one day I won't be following, chasing after a bus and a dream and a band that doesn't care if I live or die, but I know that I can't live my life the way I was living it before.
I feel like I'm stuck when I'm at home. I feel like I'm pressed against a wall, pushing back and trying to knock it down but I can't. I don't know if it's that something. I don't know if I can describe it with any of the lame metaphors Hanson came up with. I just know that when I'm here, sitting at work and waiting for the clock to turn over so I can get up and spend eight hours pouring coffee, I'm dissatisfied in a way I never was before.
Part of it is because I didn't know there was another way to live life before March of 2007. I had no idea that there was this whole other subculture of people who spend their lives chasing dreams. I wonder it now, every time we're on the highway or stopped at a rest stop for a quick break, if the people around us know that we exist. If they know that out there, there's hundreds of people who pointlessly chase a dream just for the sake of living in the moment, of not wasting one precious moment because life is too short to live working for the next great thing.
That's my problem with 'real life'. All through my childhood, I was being pushed to get ready for the next big thing. When I got to high school, it was get ready for college. When I got to college, it was get ready to work. When I finally get there, to a 'real' job and everything, it's what? Get ready to retire? When am I supposed to live?
I'm sorry. I can't waste my life that way. I can't spend my entire existence working forty hours a week to just advance myself to the next level of waiting.
I want to live.