He said to me, "Some things are only good once."

I really don't know why I do some of the things I do. Like what I'm doing now.
What am I doing now?


Jessie and I were talking (in Florida where we shared a room and stayed up way later than we meant to every night talking...what could we possibly even have to TALK that much about?)...we were talking about what we always talk about...or one of favorite things, anyway. How people are and what kind of people we are and why. Analyzing. And this is the truth we stumbled upon. For some reason, it's been haunting my brain ever since.

I'm always looking toward the next big thing.

I'm one of those people that has to look ahead, that has to have something to look forward to, always. I've discovered that the times when I don't have anything coming down the pipe are the times when I let myself get bogged down in the day-to-day...the times when I freak out and reach out and cry in the stairwell corner. Break down.

It's not a bad trait to have, this looking forward to things, in theory. But here's the part that gets me: I almost like the looking forward better than the actually BEING there. As soon as I get to the thing I'm looking forward to, I shift ahead and start looking forward to the next big thing. While we were IN Florida, I started talking about Ben Folds. After that, I almost immediately shifted to April 10. What's wrong with that? I don't know if I let myself fully ENJOY where I am at any given moment...soak it up and take it in and actually take the time to look around...because I'm so focused on what's next. Which makes me feel like a selfish little kid who's always wanting more despite what she already has.

I've always kind of thought anticipation was the best feeling. And disappointment the worst. I like looking forward to something, and I almost always feel a little bit of a let down once I'm there...maybe because I know that being there means it's coming to an end--there's nothing left to anticipate, and it means the streamers will come down and the balloons will start to slowly deflate and there won't be anything left soon.

It kind of correlates to living in the past, present, and future. And that scares me. Most of the time I think I live in the past. Or at least I used to. I always used to wish myself backward, reminisce, dwell on past hurt. And I still do, sometimes. But honestly, I think when I shifted a lot this summer, I started living for the future. I get through weeks now on promises and expectations. I plan. I wish days away. This is bad. I know this.

But what's it even LIKE to live completely in the moment? Can a person even do it? Is it all it's cracked up to be? Sometimes I feel like it's unrealistic. You have to have SOME kind of plan...and the past shapes you into who you are. And who's to say it's what you should strive for? Sometimes I feel like I'm living in the moment--concentrating only on what I'm doing RIGHT THEN. And it's not much different than getting caught up in the mundane drone of everyday...

But maybe...living in the present--TRULY--is like those little moments where I break through and feel like the world is exactly as it should be. Like driving with the top down in summer and blasting songs. Like a friend's familiar room with familiar songs and familiar talks. Like sitting on a porch swing wrapped up in a blanket with you and finding Orion's belt. Like Landed with the orchestra. Those moments. Maybe.