I’m going, going, … … … gone?
I need a vacation. Bob Dylan called it Time out of Mind; that sounds good. My love for life is waning at best, dying at worst. Classes are redundant when they’re not repetitive, boring. They hold my attention no better than the eraser cast-off left on my desk from the previous class. Work is one wing over from class, but no more exciting. My house is quiet and dull, its inhabitants growing stagnant, not unlike myself. Praise God for Christen, whose voice and hands soothe me at every sound and touch. She keeps me sane when I am incapable of doing so myself, which is more frequent than my preference dictates. Praise God also for Himself, His continuity, his changeless nature. Something of which I have no fear is my life with Him; He is stable in my instability and present in my absence. My great Sustainer and source of hope even when my strength is no more active than my church’s youth group, which might as well not exist. Oh wait, it doesn’t.
What it comes down to is a dime-sized patch of hairless skin on the back of my head. It’s been called a bald spot, but bald seems an awful word to use in reference to one so young. I prefer think of it as the exit hatch for my stress and exhaustion. Though, in earnest, it is a bald spot, a damned bald spot. It speaks to me from the right backside of my cranium, almost audibly, saying, “you need to pull a Southwest Airlines and ‘get away.’ Trust me on this one, you need some of Mr. Dylan’s time out of mind, and I do too. Grab your car keys and a good novel, but leave the phone and textbooks where they are.”
For being so unsightly, that hairless blight on my head has got a point. A good point. It’s been a while since I genuinely took off, stole away, disappeared. A disappearing act would do me good. First off, I slap-happily threw up, literally regurgitated, the crap I had in drafts on this site. It’s worth less in the public eye than the current Presidential administration, but to me it represents a temporary closing on this portion of my load. Now I just have to make it ’til I can cast off my other responsibilities. After that, who knows. Not me. I don’t want to. I want a little time to not know, to not care. A chance to step back from myself and check if I still like who’s on the other side of the mirror.
I need to recheck the mirror. Wow. James would surely have nasty words for a person like me…