windless kite

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I woke up early again this morning.

I don’t mean like 15 minutes early….I mean hours early.

I don’t really know why that is….I guess that maybe I have a worm in mind that I need to get somehow….or something.

I don’t know.

I think that “I don’t know” is my mantra, sometimes.

Jenny was awake when I woke up….and before I got up to start my day, she mentioned that she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about what we were doing buying this land that we’re closing on tomorrow.

“What we were doing….”

She said that she’d seen all these pictures of houses that were far away from here….affordable…grand….adventurous.

And here we are….buying more property in the same school district.

She wasn’t distraught…just hot with the fan turned off….and aware of how much there is “out there”.

There is a lot to be said for “out there”.

I’ve been absorbed in thinking about “out there” and “somewhere else” for most of my post-adolescent life.

Thank you, Jack Kerouac.

Jerk.

Every single place that I landed, I found myself occasionally thinking that there has to be someplace better “out there”….some town or land or sunset….some high mountain peak or beach or house or school….or even a better restaurant than the one where I just placed my order.

Most of the angst was fleeting.

I’m a satisfied man, usually.

But it came again and again.

I was thinking about that after Jenny mentioned the places overseas where we could buy an interesting property.

There is always “someplace else”, I guess.

I realized that there was always something that was a constant in my longing.

There was always something that I couldn’t escape….no matter where I went.

It was me….dragging my windless kite and complaining that it wasn’t flying.

To quote Loudon Wainwright III …. “I’m the one….the dirty bum…I’m the one to blame…”

I’m the one to blame.

I can’t be happy no matter what I’m given.

I’m trying to learn to be, though….

Maybe that’s what the “apple” did for us….clued us in that there was “someplace else” out there….some reason to be dissatisfied.

So now I blame Kerouac….and the apple.

Dang both of them.

No matter where I go…there I am.

Just another collection of molecules….vibrating in a different chunk of air….imagining that I deserve anything…imagining that, if I just marshal my will and push through, that I can find Shangri-la underneath a pile of kudzu somewhere.

Maybe not underneath a pile of kudzu….that took all the romance out of the thought of finding Shangri-la….out of finding some weird Southern Nirvana…..or Western….or Slovakian, even….Scandinavian? The list goes…..

I AM THE CONSTANT!!! I’M THE ONE WHO ALWAYS SEEMS TO SHOW UP AT THE CRIME SCENE!! I AM THE ONE WHO ALWAYS SEEMS TO FIND THE DISSATISFIED VICTIM.…LOOKING OUT AT THE HORIZON LIKE THERE’S A BOAT THAT I NEED TO BE ON GOING TO A PLACE THAT I HAVEN’T IMAGINED DISCOVERING YET.

It’s me….I’m the problem. It’s not the place I’m in…it’s the one in the place.

This land is what we’re doing now.

It’s where we are right now.

There’s nothing wrong with a little satisfaction every now and then.

I should know that by now.

“Acres of Diamonds” Loudon Wainwright III

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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