I have been running full-throttle since October 23, 1993. Well, at the very least, my mind has been running full-throttle.
There hasn’t been a day, let alone a weekend or any other extended period of time since I got married and then divorced when I have been able to take a breather. I moved three times between August 2013 and November 2015. Just typing that makes me sick. I don’t like moving and the disdain I feel for it is not just because of the act of moving itself. In my mind, moving that often is an indicative of instability.
I grew up in the same house my mom and dad brought me to after I was born. It was a shack by most standards, but it was my home until after I struck out on my own after I graduated from college. Even after I came back home in 1990 for a while, my parents still lived there. My parents finally moved out of that house in 1991. Daddy was ready to go, but Mama wouldn’t leave until the lights and phones had been disconnected. There was no furniture in the house, but that woman wouldn’t leave. Anyway, y’all understand the fact that I hate moving.
Today has been one of those days when I’m wondering just where I’m supposed to be. I know without a doubt that I’m supposed to be in school. I know I’m supposed to be majoring in English and Creative Writing. I know that at some point, I’m supposed to use that advanced degree to become an English professor. What I mean is I really don’t know know where I’m supposed to be physically.
I love being near my family. I love being back in Louisiana because this is home — the food, the atmosphere, the cost of living, the people — all those things make me so happy, but sometimes I feel like I’m missing out on so much. Sometimes I feel like I would be out and about if I was in Dallas or San Francisco. Maybe if I was already in San Diego, I’d have something to do. The truth is, though, there’s enough to do right here. I need to get out. I need to get off my ass and get out. I don’t go anywhere — as a matter-of-fact, almost everyone I’ve run into lately says they didn’t even know I was here. Imagine their shock when I tell them I’ve been back since 2013.
I need to get out and meet people. I need to get out and have fun. I spend all my time writing, reading, studying, visiting my son, or doing nothing…
It’s time for that mess to stop. I need to find a permanent church home. I need to make new friends because the ones I hang out with are at least four hours away. I’m always super busy during football season, but I need stuff to do now; well, besides studying. Maybe tomorrow I’ll take a ride to the (little) city. It’s time to live.