The blog is a dying art. The internet has surpassed or sunk below what was formerly a network of human beings into some Baudrillardish hall of corporate mirrors. But I will still deposit my quarter into the slot.
I have never known a time in my life where I didn't convulse with mental ticks and overgrown analysis - but these seem to be settling at the bottom of the aging glass. As I approach 30 years-old I see in front of me a crossroads, but it is not the one I would have thought I would face years ago. Its not a split path between the soul-scorching office job and 'doing my own thing'. It ain't a choice of countenance or perspective or somehow 'settling down'; I have always had the same perspective that doesn't give me a choice on those topics. Its the choice that has to be made when something is failing, the car is running out of gas, the sun is setting, the leg won't work right anymore, so what do you do now? The holy cracks have grown and now I need to face them with conscious intention. That choice for me is between a predestined belly-flop into a bottomless hole or attempting to blow life into a new spirit. In that light, I am taking a temporary leave. I am leaving my COVID pod, I am leaving the condo, I am leaving my friends, and I am leaving Minnesota for the promise of a family ranch back in California. If everything goes well the temporary break will become permanent, and maybe I do quit the job, and the PhD, and everything else that at that point will be holding me back.
Here's to hoping I don't lose my soul. And if I do, here's to hoping I can build it back from the seeds. And if I can't, here's to the songs of hell.
-Best
Soim-a-go-go
