I picked up my keys and left the house while he was on the phone. Should I visit mom or go pick up some things from the grocery store? I almost turned into the parking lot for some aluminum foil and unneeded eyeshadow but I passed by instead. Not really knowing why I left, I debated answering his phone call but against better judgment I hit ‘OK’ and said hello. The only question asked was, “What’s wrong?” and the only answer I had was that I didn’t know. After several minutes he hung up on me.
My dream of getting into my car and going as far away as a tank of gas could take me has been reccuring over the last several years. Sometimes it ends with me in a tiny little house in the Florida Keys where I barely make enough money to get by but somehow never notice because I’m too busy enjoying my life and the sun. Other times I end up in Maine, painting. Today, I only had a bit more than a quarter of a tank and I knew that was definitely not enough to get far enough away to re-start my life.
To my satisfaction, I did get far enough away so that my phone lost service for a while in the dips of the hills. The rain that was falling was barely enough to need my wipers on at their most minimal of settings as I headed out on my drive with no distinct destination. The softball fields were far enough away for me to visit and enough of a good reason to be driving, so I went west over curvy, wet road. It wasn’t until I was half way there and “Centerfold” came on the radio that I became aware of anything besides the drops on my windshield. I realized that noone was behind me down the long stretch of road and I saw the glow of the lights around the fields coming up on the right. In all my trips to the fields, I’d never passed them before, never seen what was around the curve of trees up the road.
As if I were brave, I decided to pass by the fields like had my unneeded eyeshadows and came across an intersection, a dilapitated and raggedy old barn, a trucking company and intense lightning. The road ahead looked flat, unfullfilling and just as empty as I felt. I turned right down a little road and went back the way I came. As I passed directly between the “No Worries” bar and the “Best Damn Bar in Town” saloon, I wondered what the difference could be. It would seem that if I were in the best damn bar in town, I’d have no worries.
I then came home to an empty house and began writing. I assume that most of my blogs will occur spontaneously and usually when I’m upset. I also assume that I’ll feel a sense of relief as I’m writing and a sense of disgust as I read them later, as I always have with my writing. It’s kind of like getting dressed up to go out and feeling hot all night, but seeing pictures later and realizing you were really just a hot mess the entire time. I haven’t yet learned how to keep my eyeliner in place or not to have a quasi-doublechin in slurry, blurry photos so I doubt I’ll ever learn how to not write emotionally.
I’ll try to think of this as a journal of sorts and not an entertainment piece that needs tidy endings or even a main point. My drive ended with no specific reason, my nights out end with no specific reason and I suppose this will too.
