Care for some mysterious dancing forest creatures, anyone?

I was in Hawaii.


And now I'm not.



With my entire life and a whole world of limitless possibilities lying before me, and the life I've lived and countless blunders sitting passively behind me, still I do find myself lying awake at night with my mind racing, trying desperately to figure out what I am going to do with my time on this mortal coil.

The question itself is a thief, snatching time and mental energy from me before I notice anything missing. If there is an afterlife, an eternity, then does its existence not trivialize every action, every feeling we have now? I cannot accept that, so I prefer to believe that this time is most likely all I get.

Something has to change. Everything has to change.

Years ago, months ago, I feared change. Routine defined me: if I do not stray from its shelter, nothing can harm me.

But I will not have lived. And lately I find that I catch glimpses of another life, a better life where there is change, where the shelter has been cast aside. It feels like something I would want.

I want real jazz music, red wine, a place to call my own, a job, a degree. I want to travel.
I want long walks in autumn where, if only for a moment, I might feel at ease.

The comfortable routine claws at me, trying to hold me back. But I don't want it anymore. I've seen something better. Or at least something more interesting.

I don't know what I'm talking about.