10
Jun
2003
17:49

Wanted: One Life

Have you ever felt like maybe your life is out there, but you’re just not living it? This is my best attempt and a describing how I sometimes feel. I’ll try and explain, but it’s one of those things that’s at least semi-intangible so it’s difficult.
Todays particular episode came from scouring the Styx website, and the website of Styx drummer, Todd Sucherman. As I looked at all the pictures from the road, videos, notes from the band, and such, I just felt this longing. Like I was seeing something that I was supposed to be a part of, but wasn’t. It was as if I was seeing the life I should be living or something similar to it. It was sort of like looking out from a prison cell and seeing people having fun and laughing, and knowing you should be out there with your friends doing the same. A bit of a strong and melodramatic example, but it seemed to fit. I even toyed with the idea of becoming a roadie, but realistically knew that like any other industry, you have to work your way up and pay your dues before you get big gigs like that. Besides, I also knew I’d be compromising myself, since that’s not really what I want to be doing with my life.
This same thing happened recently when scouring the “Weird Al” site. In fact, I wrote Al a letter praising his new album and offering myself as a backup guitar player, personal assistant or anything else he might need. I figured, hey, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. It probably has about the same chance of getting results as a lottery ticket, and I buy those.
This feeling often haunts me. When I watch the Oscars, I feel so strongly that should be there. There are just so many times when I know the life I should be living but aren’t, and I wonder if I ever will. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I have lived that life in the past perhaps, if you believe in that sort of thing. Maybe that’s why it feels so right and so familiar, and yet so impossible and far away.
Sometimes I just want to give up on it all, settle into a “real” job and just drown myself in escapism by watching lots of movies and playing lots of video games. It would sort of be a self-inflicted lobotomy, Stepford Wives kind of thing. Just be a happy, ignorant denizen of The Matrix and forget about it all. I can’t do that, of course, but it’s damn appealing sometimes. I think it’s just all compounded by the stress of the impending move, and good old money woes.
Again, my biggest problem is that I’m a dreamer. A lazy one. And despite this entry’s tone, a pretty stubborn optimist most of the time. Well at least I still have about 46 years to accomplish something, according to The Spark’s Death Test.

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