It's been an interesting ride; the last few years, I mean. Some days I don't feel like I'm behind the wheel at all, but maybe lying in the back seat staring at an old cigarette burn in the seat, or a place where the seam has given way, and I'm staring at the padding. Or maybe I'm just sticking my head out of the open window like a dog.
You see, if life is a journey, then I'll agree with the song that, for me, it's a highway. It has been, I think, ever since I graduated college and started paying attention to exactly how quickly the days pass by...like flashing cars.
And if my life is, in fact, a highway, then I see myself driving an old black classic car. Maybe an Impala, but not necessarily. Something long and boat-like, with four doors and endless room. And one huge front seat that you can snuggle up to a lady across. Not anything made after I was born, certainly.
So the last few years, I've found myself driving through this desert. I'd say with all fairness that I turned onto this particular road in 2005 or so, after a huge life change, leaving a road I'd been on for about ten years. There were a few pit stops, both professional and romantic, where I thought maybe I'd found a place to settle down. They turned out to be temporary, and unsatisfying. So I drive.
I've been driving this desert a long time. And though the desert is a mystical place with many important revelations, I'm tired of this particular stretch of road.
I need some new scenery.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
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