It’s been a while. I was starting off this journal so diligently, then I went off to wyoming for work where cell phones, tvs, and computer access came at a premium…. and I slipped.
I used one o them thaere old fahioned hand writing journals, so I’ll backup and transcribe when I get a chance, but for now, I’ll just focus on now.
I’ve been back in Cincinnati for roughly 4 days and the itch to get on the road and head west is burnin greatly within me. I s’pose it sank in the most when i was sitting outside as the snow was falling, waiting for a ride to work.
As I sat there on my front stoop, I looked around the neighborhood and was non-plussed, even with the beuaty of fresh snow – which always tends to facsinate me. I didn’t have that sense of awe like I did seeing some mountains in the backdrop off in the distance. I can attribute this to the fact that i’m a city dweller, and if I would just simply move to the outskirts of town and be surrounded a bit more by nature – this fish-outta-water feeling would subside.
Hell, I dunno.
I remember growing up, I’d pester my mom sayin I was “bored.” We certainly were in the wilderness back then. She’d get all serious and look at me and say something to the effect, “Oh you should never be bored, there’s sooooo much to do.” Then she’d just go off making a list of all the things one can do.
Pretty neat really.
But this feeling of being back home, and not feeling at “home” seems to transcend boredom. I’m not bored by any means. There’s tons to do here in this town, and I dig having so many friends and family around – but it’s the geography or somethin. Just ain’t sittin right.
I’m hellbent on figuring this out.
Is it that I’m just some transient, gypsy that can’t settle on a place? Or, if I plopped myself out west a while, would that urge to gather no moss keep naggin me? Hmm, i dunno.