Back to the Start

It's strange how things start to fit together. You're finding yourself begging for a small moment of relaxtion while you're technically still relaxing most of the time. Talking talking talking to people never used to be an issue. You loved it, craved it, needed that attention to be around you. Now you're teaching guitar for nostalgic value as opposed to the profit. But that doesn't mean you don't have much money. It seems that centers all of it.The money you have determines the quality of life is constantly lingering in limbo.

This isn't at all about the plus minus plus minus though, this used to be about simple things. Little instances being elaborated into grandoise images of my thought process. So let's kick back and talk about some simple things.

People, it's always about people people people, the way they act and look. The way they make themselves, treat themselves. It's all an elaborate puzzle. It's those people you make up stories for though. The people who get a nod from you in public, the one's you haven't said enough to. It's almost like you want to study the way they move. Their body language, the way they choose words. A short twitch of some muscle connected to the something or other nerve. I'm sure somewhere in the bio-psychology it all makes sense, but it's not that simple for me.

There's enough wondering about the closed books, but the open ones. Spread out on the floor. The ones who I talk to in detail with. The ones I miss. The neighbors who live down the street now instead of down the hall. It's a whole different dynamic, those close lasting relationships that were built are resetting, manifesting in the faces of all the small aquaintence nods. I'm almost close enough to consider myself lonely. Throwing myself into things, trying way too hard to get into some one's head. It's the way the air doesn't taste like home anymore that makes you miss people so close. It's the way you can't drive your car down to the beach and drink milkshakes and talk things out. It's the way she probably would've loved to be here. It's still the way the air doesn't taste like home.

At least you're coming to terms with what you're going to be. Something important, more than a peace of paper important. Maybe back to engineering or maybe into teaching. It's the way you can explain calculus in thirty seconds and have the person retain it. It's the honest talent of passing on how I learn so quickly with others. Maybe that's what I crave. Being a president, teaching people to survive here, that's how I can teach people to survive mathematics, equations. Numbers and music, the only words to me.

It's getting to the point of a ramble now. Sleep on it.