unplugged

So, I'm traveling again. Hotels, motels, Holiday Inns. Mostly Holiday Inns. I've noticed this before, but it never ceases to surprise me: I'm happier when I'm on the road. Or not happier, maybe, but less miserable. There are clear tasks to accomplish, and I can accomplish them. Not like in normal life, when I can't figure out what the tasks even are. Get married, buy a house, have kids? That either sounds ridiculous or impossible. This, I guess, is why I haven't done anything of significance to me in the past 6 years. I get distracted by work. I mean, I guess that's what you're supposed to do -- work hard, make money, spend the money, die of cancer. It's not that I really think there's more to life than that. It's just damned depressing is all.

Sang arias at a bar last night. It was sort of nice. Oh, hell, it was really nice -- the nicest thing that's happened to me in quite a while. Yes, I am an approval addict, and yes I would have wanted to die if I had sounded bad or been met with blank stares or awkward throat clearing. But everyone was nice. I did not make eye contact with anyone as that is not my style, but I'll assume no one made a face. It is frustrating to have praise heaped upon you by someone who does not actually want to be with you, but common sense tells me I would be equally terrified of me if I were in his position. I do not know what to do. I never know what to do, and I feel no closer to figuring it out.

It's only been three months, and I'm itching to move again, though there's nowhere in particular I want to go. And I like everyone in SLC. I suppose that means that I am the one I don't like, which is too bad because I really thought I was becoming a better friend to myself. I must have been wrong. 6 months of winter, and I'm trying to get off my pills. Seems like maybe I need to be more unhappy in order to see what I need to do. But maybe it's just my brain. Maybe my brain is just wrong. Science is rather useless to me at the moment. You can't prove a damn thing.