Two and half Weeks Later

Much hasn't really happened since I last reported. My routine has been, e-mailing resumes everywhere that may be hiring and almost never hearing back. I am still at it everyday. But it may require more patience than I can muster up.

I haven't done anything really fun. I watched a movie at the cheap theatre by myself and that is it. I have read two books, Kindness of Strangers, and Into the Wild. Travels with Charley, is next. I plan on reading a big handful of traveling books to make sure that my book doesn't overlap too much information and discovery. I am pretty sure at this point that my story is still very unique and potentially comparable to poignancy. Should I learn how to write. 

Sacramento hasn't felt like home anymore. I grew up here, I have always loved it here. But I don't know how much more of it I can take. It feels the wrong place for me. 

My parents left my bedroom the way I left it when I moved out so many years ago. All my CD's in a huge storage shelf. My childhood comic books out for display on a rack. My rock n' roll paraphanelia out and about. My guitars and amplifiers out. It all made me sick. I packed all the speakers, CD's, Paraphanelia, and comics into boxes to be donated, sold or given away. I even cut my clothing load into about a third. I don't want things I don't need anymore. 

I have gotten already three offers to resurrect my Johnny Cash Tribute band "Cash Only." only to be turned down or told "Maybe". I don't really have much of an interest in music anymore. I gave it the best I could, but at the end of the day, it wasn't in the cards. And unfortunately, I cannot EAT dreams. People always tell me NOT to give up on dreams. But I almost want to curse them for that. Look where I am now. 28, no job, living with my parents. I have always shunned and scoffed at the existance of NO-RISK cubicle jobs. Now, I am actively seeking after them. I can't help and wonder if these are the same humbling feelings everyone else gets when they decide to grow up and lay off the dream about being a cowboy or an astronaut. But most people have their dreams shattered before they are old enough to live those mistakes I suppose. 

I have spent some time at the Local LDS temple, trying to sort out my goals and make sure they are in line with my eternal wishes. I don't know if they are or not, but I am certainly trying. I am not particularly happy with my situation and I know that is normal. If home life with the parents was so great, nobody would move out. My parents would have me stay the rest of my life if they could get away with it. But recently I am heavily considering moving somewhere in a trailer by the desert. There I can write my book and get my peace. The only places I ever seem to have peace are on the road, the desert and in church. I know that I can't get a paid position in church, they really don't exist. I can possibly be a truck driver, or maybe work at a home depot and write while I am not working. 

Lately I have been heavily considering becoming a writer. I have craved writing ever since I came off the trip. I miss blogging. I don't know how I lived without it. Once again, I changed my focus. I don't care to be a reporter, or maybe even a radio jock anymore. Maybe rock n' roll radio was just my way of making sure that  I never grew up. Just to prove to everyone that I can do anything I put my mind to. Ironically, everyone I know believes in me now. But I don't know what i can do. My will to carry on may be admirable. But it may be the death of me. 

i haven't given up hope, I don't know that I ever can. That may be my problem. I never give up. Even when it is absurd. But I am trying to figure things out. My soul search didn't end when I got back. Unfortunately it amplified. Maybe my road trip wasn't long enough. We will see. But writing the story seems like a happy thought to me. It really helps me get the perspective. So I do have that to look forward to. I think if I write the book, I can possibly get what I was looking for in the end.