An Interjection

An Interjection...

I’m twenty-four thousand feet in the air right now. Given new perspective to introspection. Staring at the clouds that sporadically cover the coastline below like poorly placed stepping stones for the gods and giants of the stratosphere. I consider how much more time I’ve been given to take such an angle in the recent past. Especially, in juxtaposition to the countless hours I’ve spent staring at the underside of those stepping stones in the more distant past. Then I consider if giving such consideration is totally ghey. Possibly. I’ve been listening to a lot of Snow Patrol lately. Fuck it.

*An interjection unto the interjection: I consider why the fuck I’m always sat behind Nancy McFidgit, who feels the need to treat her seat like it’s a goddamn Lay-Z-Boy trampoline. You forcefully recline that seat any further back into my lap your boyfriend might start asking questions. You’re 5’ 2”, if you want to stretch out you can do it in the fucking overhead compartment.

I apologize. And with my laptop beneath my chin I’ll continue. Even though I feel like a giraffe in a gerbil cage at the moment, it’s all pretty sweet.

Point being, It’s a bit of a trip to take into account all of the elements that have put me on this current trip I take. Decisions made by me, decisions made by others, decisions made by chance, time, biology, chemistry, physics, addition, subtraction, cosmic attraction, made flights, missed flights, dream filled days and sleepless nights, friends, family, and the ties in between. And utmost, the manner in which I’ve decided to deal with those elements. And whether blessed by Miss Fortune at the time I faced them, or oppositely butt-fucked by Misfortune, or my own foolish forethought, I think I’m rather happy with the way things have turned out at this moment, and will continue to be after it has passed. Mostly on account of this...

A few months ago, Miss Fortune and a friend fed me a favor I’ll forever be grateful for. In the midsts of digital discourse on current dilemmas we deliberated over, he tossed something at me that took to my frontal lobe like a brick from a canon.

“...so many of us, me included, just expect to be happy and when the world doesn't accommodate my every need, I get frustrated. "Striving" to be happy just hadn't occurred to me. I have always presumed that I was put here to be happy and that if I am not, it must be someone else's fault. But that is total and complete bullshit. Like anything else, we have to put in some effort to get what we want and something as "simple" as happiness is no fucking different.”

Now, I’ve never really been one to shy away from accountability. In fact, it might be safe to say that far too often in the past, I’ve blamed myself for shit that was far beyond my control. And at times that I haven’t been happy, I’ve blamed no one else but myself. This, I was well aware of. The “striving” bit was what loaded that brick. I was forced to think of how many times I found myself knee deep in bullshit and lost, contemplating the adoption of complacency in it, albeit with heavy reluctance. Knowing goddamn well that I wanted to be elsewhere. But wanting won’t make it so. Striving for it will.

Hearing those words in my head brought about familiar ones I heard once before in a song. Ones that stuck with me so well, I had them stuck in their own fashion along my ribs. I grant gratitude to Mr. Kensrue once again.

They serve to remind me that “striving” is a requisite. As I look back on all of the decisions I’ve made throughout my life, the ones I’ve made--as much as this may seem stripped from a Dashboard Song, I apologize--with my heart have always seemed to serve me in the most rewarding fashion. I’ve come to conclude that just behind a few ribs of mine, lies a space in me that works like a compass. But that’s only half of the equation. The other half rests in the ability to find the balls to follow through. To step out of that bullshit, follow that compass, and make towards those desired destinations.

And at times, that compass may have led me into a minefield, but I’ve garnered a good amount amongst the shrapnel. Strength, resilience, a little wisdom and a lot of faith, as it’s subsequently led me out of the chaos every time. It’s taken on the elements, taken me through the elements, and found Magnetic North in those elements... And though I know I steer the ship, for the time being I can’t help but to take guidance from the compass.

Anyways, those elements and that compass have put me on the path I’m on today, at this very minute, and I guess I’m grateful to them. And though I walk it with empty pockets for the time being, I also do so with a head full of ambition, and a heart full of... I’ll spare the sappy shit.

So, I guess I’d like to give thanks.

To my Father and Mother, to my Sister and Brother, and the two of those monikered in a similar fashion on behalf of matrimony and the State of California. To the Friends I left amongst the sand and sun of San Diego. To San Diego. To the Friends I made amongst the sand and sun of that big southern continent. To that big southern continent. The Friend that followed me there. To the friends and family that lent ears on my darkest days throughout the years. To the blank pages that made like ears on my darkest days throughout the years. To the music that always shed light on those situations. To music. To guitars. To pianos. To planes. To Chance or Cosmic Attraction on a Friday night. To couches and wine and bad movies. To subsequent laughter. To first...

Shhh... Slow it down. You gun’ OD on disclosure again. It’s an interjection, not a fucking dissertation...

Fair enough.

To those who made their homes like mine. To those who made me feel like I never left it. To those in whom I feel a new one. To all that made me push this through my pen.

“And I’ve been placed in pseudo-paradise, but can’t help but to feel something pulling me elsewhere. Like I left a sizable chunk from the bottom part of my chest in the last place I parted with. Anchored. And there’s a few thousand mile tether I feel tugging on raw nerves around my guts. It’s like it’s begging me back. It’s like I’m sick over the tangible loss of what I left behind. It’s like it won’t subside until I follow it back.”

Wrap it up, Homie. This bitch is about to land.

To all that’s put me where I am. To all that’s given me new direction...