A goal? An ambition?

Where are we as a cummunity? Where am I as a person?

I am in a pit. Seemingly unable to pull myself out, I wallow. Maybe it's time to take drastic action. Like moving cross-country? To where? For what?

My eyes are tired. My body is restless. My mind is stuck.

Having given up on what looked like might turn into an employment opportunity (no responses to my reply after 2 weeks? I'd say it's dead), I find myself disillusioned at the apparent lack of prospects, yet unable or unwilling to motivate myself to seek other opportunities.

The corporate world, though sometimes fun in a frivilous sort of way, left a bad taste in my mouth. Pursuit of blind profit at the expense of all else is not a healthy existence. Endless drudgery is a bore. Is it any wonder that I find myself hesitant to dive back into it?

The best reason I can come up with, aside from the fact that it would be nice to earn my own living again, is that after a few fragented weeks of sitting around doing mostly squat, I find myself itching with a longing to go somewhere or do something. But what? I draw a blank.

Without a true positive to latch onto, I drift. Having to try and pick between the lesser of annoying evils is not a formula for driving energy. Chronic isolation does not help matters.

Maybe it's true that any direction, no matter how imperfect, is better than no direction. I am bewildered by my own stagnation. Bewilderment leaves me motionless.

There is a small, strange part of me -- it has been poking at my consciousness intermittently for over a year -- that wants to do the utterly insane: Sell or give away the overwhelming bulk of my possessions, load the rest -- only items most sacred and/or necessary -- into my car, and go. Journey across state lines, into unfamiliar and unknown territory, until I find an place that speaks to me, and begin a new existence there. Maybe it would be a small town. Maybe it would be a big city. Maybe it would be a wilderness.

But then practical sanity crashes in on my little dream. How ridiculous! Hop in the car, with no specific destination, nothing to count on at the other end (wherever that is), and no objective way to tell when that end has been reached? It's looney! If I did get crazy enough to try, the saner part of me says it would likely turn out more like this:

Inevitably, after a couple nights of the car seat as my bed, I would all-too-quickly become very aware of the hideous smell of my own stench. Desperate for a shower and shave, I'd either stop at some shitty motel, or pay for one of those shower places along the road. The taste of highway fast food would become way too familiar. Having not found any place that looks hospitible enough to stop for more than an hour, much less "settle down", it's a toss up bet as to which of 2 possible outcomes would happen first.

1) I run out of gas and money, and hobble home on a credit card (or worse and more humiliating, call parental units to bail me out), or 2) I become sick of the endeavor before depleting my resources completely, and come home more broke than I left.

But somewhere down in my gut, the slimmest sliver of a possible (3) is enough to keep me coming back to think about it every now and then. 3) I stop somewhere decent and manage to make friends with one or more of the local inhabitants. I find a job that might not be the best at first, but enough to get me by. I find someplace to stay, it works out.

Now... introspection... Why does this vision seem to appeal more than simply finding another job down the street, moving out of my parents' apartments, and doing more or less the same thing right here in beautiful Colorado? What's the real difference? After all, there's a lot about this locale that I know and like.

Part of it might be getting away from the parents. Maybe there's some appeal in not only becoming financially independent, but actually getting far away enough that they aren't constantly hanging around trying to help me with my life. (Not that their help isn't appreciated, but... I need out.)

Then there's the charm of unpredictability. Just get out, go, and let things fall where they do.

On top of that, I feel like I have too much clutter, materially. With every move, it is lessened somewhat, but there's still too much. Just the thought of being able to fit every object I own into my car to take with me holds a certain fascination, regardless of the "where" part.

Also, there's this idea that maybe by going somewhere I've never been, I might connect with a new culture (or subculture). I yearn to transcend this life of same-old, same-old which clings to me like a wet rag.

On that note, I'm changing the stylesheet for lyrics. (Actually, I did it last night because I was tired of the old color, but I decided to hold off on putting it out until new content was ready.)

To showcase the new color, I'll quote an entire song because it's such a beautiful one, lyrically as well as musically and vocally. Evanescence. Whisper. To be followed by a link to some entertaining reading material at the bottom.

25 days of doing nothing.