Date: 5/07/2018
When I had left the driveway… pulled out, head twist to look behind and around, moving away… from house and familiarity.
When I had left the driveway… I was not alone.
But days since then, sometimes, I felt alone. Adjusting to something foreign to me.
When I had left the drive… I was out of my zone. Time, comfort. Out of my zone.
The place we find ourselves is somewhere else. When young, we long for it. When old, not so much. At least, not me.
Is it a root thing or an insecurity? I think both. Funny. I usually think both. On pretty much anything, I think both. 2 sides. But nowadays, at this age, I think as I sit in the same place. A place familiar, a place that doesn’t distract or disorient. It gives me the freedom to be as disoriented as I choose because the place where I am is most certainly not disorienting.
Are creative people that way, or is it just my brand of creativity-ness? In any event, thinking in weird ways doesn’t seem to estrange me. When I was young I was deathly afraid of the dark. Deathly. That was a place-set that affected, strongly affected my mindset. Now, it seems to be just the place. Somehow, listening to mind’s wandering is a familiar friend. But, put me in an unknown place, my heart races. Odd isn’t it? I think it’s odd and sad that my context disrupts me so. In my college years, that just was not the case. It was all exciting and happily unpredictable adventure. That’s all. Not fear-inducing, unless of course I got in over my head.