That's kinda what it's like you know. A nagging gnawing.
They're all busy and happy and doing what kids do. The neighbor comes over to get a hug, and the birds keep pissing me off with that constant chirp chirp chirppery that they do at this time of year. I think they're fighting over who's going in what flock, south, for the winter. Lucky bastards.
It's almost 7 now and the sun is on it's downward creep, sinking for the moment into oblivion to illuminate someone elses darkness. Isn't that nice?
You know what I miss? I miss the ocean. I miss the mountains. I miss the caverns. I miss adventure. My school schedule wouldn't allow for much of it this year and that's exactly what this gnawing is all about. The need for flight.
Long-haul. I'm forced to keep this whole long-term objective in mind, and I am wired to live as if the long-term doesn't exist. Put a lion in a cage to get it to safety, and it paces back and forth as if it just knows it'll be in the box forever... even if there's a sign on the bars screaming in bold red print "YOU WILL BE FREE IN 4 SHORT YEARS" That's not the whole truth though.
4 years til' I've my Masters, 2 for my bachelors, and just a month for my Associates. The internship is less than a year regardless of masters/bachelors... and after that student loan repayment. So I figure ten years. MINIMUM. It's enough to make me quit, sell everything I own and load the kids up in the first rusty RV I can find right now and go see some shit, do some shit, experience something other than contractual allowances and staff annualization.
Who says what we have to do, to do what we need to do, to be successful. Who has that authority? I'd like to meet the jackass who makes all these fucking rules up. Smack him across the face, feed him a bottle of viagra, and hire a thousand angry whores to fuck him silly and watch gleefully when his head explodes. Providing it is a man... though whoever it is is just trifilin' enough to be a chick.
So there it is. Stuckery.
OMG. My neighbor is singing I believe I can fly.... at the top of his lungs. All the kids are cracking up. How ironic. I wonder if he knows how miserable his wife is. Oh, the lols of life. They just keep coming.