Thursday, February 10, 2005

If You Came Looking for Wheat Fields You Will Be Disappointed

Sometimes I wonder if most of you are the kind who lay there staring up at the ceiling just waiting and wishing for something new to happen. Dying for that change to just jump you on some idle Tuesday while you're sitting in front of a screen or riding a bus or wasting away in class. Sometimes I play the keyboard like a piano. I'll have music rocking in the background and I'll stand up and kick back the desk chair. I'm pounding, pulsing, bobbing my head while my index and middle fingers scramble across the keyboard to cover all of the keys. Probably make some funny faces too. Sometimes I pound cause I'm on a role.

Sometimes I pound cause I hate everything about what I'm saying and about blogging. Sometimes it disgusts me. At the end of the day what do I have to show for myself except unintelligible 0's and 1's stored on some far-off server in a dark, climate controlled room. I walked by an architect surveying a site where a new building is going to be built. I sat there and watched him for about five minutes. Ah to build something with you hands, I thought. In a year or two that guy is going to stand in the exact same spot and radiate a paternal pride over his creation. And I'll just have a lot more words.

In another life I would have been an engineer. Maybe if they started dosing me with ritalin I could have done it. But instead my brain cells were flying around too fast to worry about adding fractions and drawing straight lines. I was too busy dreaming about Thundercats and Transformers. About girls and strangers and far off places I wanted to see. As soon as I have a house I'm going to buy an old car and an old motorcycle and I'm going to take them both completely apart until I touch every nut and bolt personally. But until then I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with days like today. With words. I put two valedictorians in their place before lunch. Then I interviewed THE Tony Pierce for an obviously-biased journalism piece about bloggers. Then I met with a reporter from CNN. If that's not enough I've got a night full of pretty girls and margaritas ahead.

But Afterwards I'm going to go home and stare at the ceiling just like you. I won't ask for any changes. No. I've been there. I'll just lie there waiting for that moment to come. When I breathe out long enough that my heart stops beating for just a second. When that voice in my head stops screaming "I want more." And everything's quiet. Finally quiet enough to spot that faint whisper coming from deep down. Finally enough to catch my soul mouth, ”Just right."


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