An Aimless Friday

I’m feeling especially aimless today. It could be that it’s Friday, or that I’m trying to scale back on the amount of meds I take, or just that shadow of existential doubt that likes to crawl into my soul from time to time. I am also perfectly content at the moment which is a bit of a new feeling and may be part of the problem. Contentment is foreign and thus disorienting.

I want to go to medical school but I don’t want to change. I’m scared of doing this job for the rest of my life but I am fairly happy now. I used to know what I wanted but I was miserable. Today I have no goals but am content. My discomfort is perpetually caught between the future and the present. My brain tells me that the present is all that matters – my gut tells me to keep moving, don’t look back, I must become something.

I initially thought this was a result of my ADHD but I am also coming to notice that survivors of childhood abuse often have a deep driving need to never stop moving. It’s a compulsion. It’s rooted somehow to the belief that I can never let my guard down at any time or for anyone – not even myself.

BUT some of the most successful people in history also had a relentless desire to achieve.

I am a container of objectless ambition. I think this is the point that some people start to ask if there is anything more to life. I am starting to hope there is less to life so I can make some decisions.

I went to a concert last week with a friend of mine from college – lets call her Sharona – because she grew up with the members of one of the opening acts. She got free tickets and I bought the drinks. Her friend’s band was okay but the other opening act was called Nashville Pussy and rocked so hard that I nearly had a mental orgasm. Despite their name (or perhaps because of it) the bassist and lead guitar players were both women. The bassist was young and slim and dressed like the chick from Guitar Hero – tattoos and all. The other woman was perhaps 40, a mess of head-banger hair, and undoubtedly one of the top three guitar players I have ever seen live. Her style is what you would expect if Slash started to play a lot of ZZ Top.

By the time it was over I needed a cigarette, a sandwich, and a nap. I found myself wanting to get home to my little fender strat and see how long it would take me to learn a few of their songs. I wanted without a doubt to play guitar for the rest of my life. I looked at Sharona – noticing the curves of her body – and imagined what she looked like first thing in the morning. I was three quarters of the way to falling in love with her.

I finished my beer as we watched the main act set up. We were tired and decided to go home – after all, the tickets had been free. By the time we got to my car I had forgotten about being a rock star and my love for Sharona. I was thinking about the new episode of South Park my roommate had taped and about doing laundry the next day. The laundry didn’t get done for another week. The whole experience is my life in microcosm.