And Now I . . .

Evan's Room
The Kids' Apartment
11:39 pm
Wednesday, June 22, 2005


And Now I . . .

Ultimately, I'm not sure. There is so much to say about Bonnaroo and the whole Texas Experience but I'm not sure I have the emotional fortitude to delve into that at the moment. Let it suffice to recap this last week. I plan on expanding my mind this weekend, this time in a land plentiful with power outlets and cell phones, so hopefully I'll be able to write and do the Roo some justice.

I left Waco Friday with a happy heart, and no tears and actually went to Tyler to stay for a bit. I ended up there for only 13 hours, 15 total for the whole trip. Not bad, not bad. I closed my Austin Bank account - thank Christ, that bank sucks many balls - and packed. Chicken Fried Steak at the Laughing Dog, splitting beers with my dad like always. More packing, and eventually sleeping on the couch with Spartacus because my room was experiencing a profound absence of me.

Then I began The Drive. I made it out of Tyler at 11:20. I had to stop and get my oil changed first, and the man at the Jiffy Lube knew me, and wished me well, giving me directional advice. There are some things that I will miss of Tyler.

I drove. I drove drove drove. Through all sorts of land. It was quite fantastic. I induged in a guilty pleasure and listend and sang with the Phantom of the Opera. As I marveled at the sunset, and the majestic expanse that is the Mississippi, "Music of the Night" came on. Quite fitting.

I reached Ayse, and Evansville at half past midnight, and was force fed much amazing Turkish food. Oh it was exquisit. It was much needed catch up time with Ayse. I'm glad that we're reached the point in our friendship where we can let it go when we have to, and pick it right back up when the opportunity allows. The next day I was given a tour of Evansville (pretty historic district, nice riverview, but I wouldnd't want to live there) and then I was off again.

I made it to Chicago at 9:30 -- six hours. And then there were my people here. And then I started training the next morning. The people that I have the priviledge to work with astonish me everyday. They're all so fantastic, devoted, driven, inspired. They inspire me.

Yet, I'm unsettled. We've gone for Sushi, we're made apartment dinner, gone to movies, but still. I feel so joyful, so full of life. I must be careful how I phrase this, but it seems as if people here trudge. Lament, exclaim, brow-beat and hassle. As Bryan put it, sometime I look up, and go, "Oh, this isn't Bonnaroo. Right. . . "

I feel as if I've been fundamentally changed as a person, but only because I was offered an exteneded commune with who I truely am. And I've come out much stronger, sure-headed, joy-seeking, committed to what I feel is a purpose I can fufill. (I won't say my purpose, as I'd like to think I have more then one.)

What's missing? Is it me? Is it the people I'm around? My friends here? I love them all so dearly, completely, for who they, yet I wonder if I fit. Deciding what french fries to buy become a committee decision, belaboring the point witout really making a point, round after round.

I feel adrift. Summer Links is a fantastic place where I justified in my existence and goals, while being pushed to think further, deeper, different as I help other do the same. Then I come home and go, "What's wrong?"

This is supposed to be home. Officially. Legally. All my stuff's here. But I'd rather live out of my truck, and drive around Texas. If it a fundamental characteristic of me: I feel most at home on the road? It's the settling that can psoe difficulties.

More later. Some of us have to be at work at 8:30 in the morning.