Journal : OpenRoadWorks

It will be another long day at work, but it is eerily quiet. The moments of reflection lying in my bed last night have toppled over into the early day's work at the office. The list of items to complete is filling up on my desk, in the notebook, and I have nowhere else to go but stay here with this work. I have found happiness - it is the mundane of this silent moment, whir of the air conditioning system ventilating the room, just loud enough to muffle the sounds of keyboard typing from the laptop computers. Everyone else sits in silence, too. I stop typing just to hear that muffled silence. Weird. As the rain contemplates its contribution to the day (should I pour or drizzle or stay away in mist?), I sit typing away on another random Wednesday.

Earlier this year, it seemed that promise existed for something more than this - almost April, almost spring, almost home, almost sure of something beyond uncertainty. My perspectives change by the day - literally, since I have been traveling without abandon. Kansas City, Dallas, San Antonio, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, New York. Soon, Cleveland, New York for a month, then some days in SF. Much past these days, I am not quite sure of my plans - return to university? Some time off? A trip out of the country? Just some days at home? I cannot say any more - again, beyond my control. I wonder sometimes where this time falls, in what mode that it collects itself. Do I hold a reservoir of these days for introspection, or is it only the moment that remains as my reflection, like raindrops that settle on the pavement and then evaporate at the turn of sunshine? Sometimes, I wonder these things, before I am distracted by the days that have passed. Sitting at my desk at the e...