On a Wheel

This is my life right now, I am on a wheel. I do the same things over and over again through the week in hopes of doing something more later on. A trained monkey could do my job, in fact many do, at least they act like monkeys most of the time.

It is the weekend, and I am on a completely different schedule than everyone else is. I just awoke, and am contemplating what to do for the rest of my day. Last night the only real human interaction I had was when I went to Wal-mart at four in the morning. How do these people do it? How do they work the graveyard shift and barely see the sun, or anyone else?

At almost midnight I went to run on the track, another squeaky wheel. I was running for a little over thirty minutes listening to the Kings of Leon on my Zune when the wind picked up from behind me, and blew me with it's cold hand, back inside my dorm.

I got on audible.com and listened to Thus Spoke Zarathustra for five hours, the translation was a little indigestible, I might actually have to read it after all.

I think I might take up drawing again in this downtime.

I slept and dreamed. The dream was that I was driving, not in my Volvo, but in my first vehicle. The 1978 Ford F250 with the home-made flatbed, leaky gas tank and rusted out floorboard. I was driving hwy 86 from Bates Corner in Cassville, going to college. I kept wondering why it was so dark, there was no moon, no other light. I could only distinguish the road because it was the only spot the trees didn't cover. I knew the road and every turn by heart without looking, I'd been here many times before. Finally I had the realization that my headlights weren't working. My dad showed up in my dream with lights, only was more of an antagonist than a hero with lights. He was angry that I didn't realize they were going to go out. He didn't fix the problem, I ended up having to hold (in my dream) a square foglight to find the road. I awoke.