I'm really disappointing and extremely blue right now.
One of my oldest friends from middle school is moving to California and is embarking on what amounts to THE great American road trip. Driving across the country is something that I really want to do (despite the fact that I don't care much for driving). Jeff is making his trek with Mike another of my oldest friends I've known since way back in my State Street Middle School days. They are being accompanied by Jason, a really cool guy Jeff met in college and I met when they stayed with me in Japan. It is going to be a really amazing trip and they invited me to go along.
I'm not going because I am stuck in limbo from my schools. I really need a job and all the schools that are interested in me have me in a ridiculous holding pattern of some kind. Where they may literally want to interview me, offer me the job, etc. at any moment. So rather than getting in a car with two of my oldest friends tomorrow, I'm staying put. I really hate this. Right now I'm really down on the whole "responsibility" thing. Coming back from Japan was supposed to free me up for this kind of expansive friend stuff, but instead I feel more locked in than ever. I feel I was freer in Japan holding down a full time job than I am in the States jobless.
A few lines of Khalil Gibran's poem "On Pain" seem to run through my head right now, "[Pain] is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. / Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity"
I'm getting tired of drinking.
Your pain is the breaking of the shell
that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder
at the daily miracles of your life, your pain
would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your
heart, even as you have always accepted
the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity
through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the
physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink
his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided
by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips,
has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter
has moistened with His own sacred tears.
-- Khalil Gibran