this is how we grow

It has been some time since I have written¬. my brain has been filled with too much static to think about forming sentences that have any real meaning. I’ve only had lists in my head. the last two months have been one endless list of things to do. some fun and exciting, some scary as shit. some too boring to even have to write on the paper let alone accomplish. i like the crossing off of things though. i like the act of that more than the accomplishment itself. it is the most satisfying part of completing a task. it pisses me off when i accomplish tasks that never even made it on the list because i don't get the pleasure of scratching a rule across vague words defining my assignment. i hate that. i usually write it on the sheet just so i can scratch it out. But I digress. This isn’t a post about lists. It is a post about transitioning into ones real self.

What happens next when you finally pass through that window and fall completely into the life you were meant to be living all along? It is odd and awe inspiring and so full of fascination, puzzlement and expectation. I wonder if I look different or if people will see me differently. I don’t know where to begin. I am so thankful to have shed that old skin that never fit properly. I never felt as though I belonged in that corporate world of posturing and corporate speak, that while sometimes amusing, was quite irritating. Good people drink poisoned Kool-Aid to maintain position and income level and there is sadness all around and nothing to respect. now my life has been filling up with other like minded people and artists. we speak in realities that have color, we do not care if we venture "off topic", we explore contradictory ideas rather than trying to be "on the same page".

Anyway, it is in the past, along with some people, and there will definitely never be a returning. Some doors are meant to stay shut once we close them and some people we are meant to say goodbye to for a final time. This is how we grow.

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing. But burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars……………"
Jack Kerouac