Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Speeding Life Train

Hello, Internet. How are you? I'm good. Can't complain. Or, I can, I guess. I can always find SOMEthing to complain about. Twist my arm to moan and whine. And I'll take some cheese with that.

Tonight I'm feeling...restless. I normally hole up in the evening with a book or my computer and cocoon while I try to relax so I can actually sleep. See, I have trouble sleeping because I can never get my brain to turn off. So I try to start the sedation process earlier in the evening than most. Once my brain is going, there is no turning it off.

And tonight? Ce soir? It's a goin'. Ca va! Ca to the mother fucking va. And it's only like 8:30, but the wheels are on overdrive, dude. I feel restless, but forced to sit still. I feel like I'm ready to take so much for my life, but it's all on hold. I'm feeling like time is tick tick ticking away at record speeds but I'm frozen in the midst of it all, watching it pass me by.

okay, so I realize this photo is of a young male of color and in no way resembles my pasty female ass. deal with it.

And I'm just standing here, living my life, doing everything right, being polite. While the good stuff, the scary stuff, the stuff that puts hair on your chest, the stuff that makes life worth it is zipping away and I can't quite grasp it. And jumping on that speeding life train is goddamn scary, yo. Making that leap is treacherous. A girl could get hurt.

But, dammit, I'm done being polite. I'm done being safe. I want to tell this polite girl to fuck off! I don't want to stand by quietly anymore. What the hell are we all waiting for anyway? I want to jump feet first on the speeding life train and take those things I want. What am I protecting anyhow?

You know what I think? I think that the only things worth living for are the riskiest. Risk is inherent to life and the bigger the risk (I am not going to say, the bigger the reward), the better you become. I am ready to jump. I am ready to risk. I am ready to be scared fucking out of my mind with life.

I think we only tread this planet for so long and the good things need to be pursued. I'm not going to sit on my ass any longer just hoping for the best, hoping a big wad of exciting life falls into my lap. I just don't think it works that way.

And I live a decent life. I do. I have a job I'm good at. I'm not a hooker. I don't have any major health issues. I've never had syphilis. I see my therapist and I pay my taxes. I've never committed larceny (not really sure what larceny is). I feed my cats (every day) and I tend my garden (mostly). I read dozens of books. I'm supportive of my friends. I've never been a cannibal. I've never cheated. I only hate a few people, and even then, it's just a really strong dislike. I always use my turn signal. I've never maimed or beheaded. I'd say I'm a good person.

But is that enough? Not right now, it's not. I want a rich life, not rich with money (though I wouldn't be turning that down), but rich with experience, with joy, with love, with learning and growth. I want that. I WANT THAT!

And even after all that ranting about jumping on a speeding life train, I can be patient. Yes, I can. Stop looking at me like that. I can, dammit!

But maybe it's really about making the first leap. Make the jump. Get on the train. Then I can find a nice seat near a window. And if the train takes a while to reach its destination, that's okay. At least I know I'm on the train. And the train is going the direction I want.

I haven't jumped yet. But I have my ticket and I'm standing on the platform. Who's coming with me?

2 comments mean you love me:

Lynnette said...Best Blogger Tips[Reply to comment]Best Blogger Templates

hum ... last time I jumped into the scariness that is life, my train derailed and I got emotionally maimed. I must say it left me scars that are still healing so I'm content to watch the trains for a little longer, but I'll catch up when I'm ready :)

andygirl said...Best Blogger Tips[Reply to comment]Best Blogger Templates

that's okay, punkin. you've had a tough year.

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