Jack Kerouac's book "On The Road" is one of my top 5 favorite books of all time. I like the meaninglessness of it, but also -of course- the adventure... and the poetry. He's got the most gorgeous way of seeing people and the world around him. Sometimes I think I'm a little like him-- a little messed up and lot of the time reckless, but I see the sparkle in each person I meet, and I think that's saying a lot.
Even here in Puerto Vallarta with the language barrier, I can see the depth in the people I meet. Each one of them, I just feel like I see them. It's hard to explain really. I just feel really blessed to have the gift of seeing people. But more on that another time.
I've been thinking, and I wish I could see myself a little clearer, you know? I suppose I'm a work in progress, just like everyone else though. I'm always working on something. I never feel satisfied with the person I am. The thing I'm working on really hard right now is my anxiety.
It's awful. It clouds my senses, or more like enhances them. I feel like a highly caffeinated orangoutang when it strikes. Animalistic. Out of my mind. Sounds are louder. Lights are brighter. Smells are stronger. It's hard to breathe. When it hits, I don't see people clearly anymore, and I definitely don't see myself. I'm outside myself. I just see red. I don't want to talk to anyone. Sometimes I can't even move. But simultaneously, I want to run as far away and as fast as I possibly can. I want to outrun the feeling it gives me as it moves through my veins.
But, I hate running, and you can't outrun it anyway, so I just have to deal with it in the ways I've learned to cope.
I'm treating this blog a little like a journal, because I've realized writing in one brings me zero satisfaction. In fact, writing in a journal/diary makes me feel all alone, because each time I write in one I think about how if I died no one would ever care to read it, and if anyone did it would all be read out of context. So, I am just writing here instead. Reckless, yeah. But like I said, I'm a little like Kerouac. At least, that's what I like to tell myself.
Anyway, as I'm sure you've gathered, I had a grip of anxiety show its face to me today. Overall, today was a good day in many ways, but, unfortunately, it ended with a dump truck of anxiety showing up and leaving its garbage on my doorstep.
You know, tomorrow's gonna be good though. We're going to rent a boat, and there is nothing I enjoy more than being on a boat. So, cheers to mañana.
“Sure baby, mañana. It was always mañana. For the next few weeks that was all I heard––mañana a lovely word and one that probably means heaven.” -Jack Kerouac