the rain said it better

I was going to write a poem last night, but the rain was saying what need to be said well enough already - all of the weight of the day, the air I had been swimming through, finally released in a gentle shower and a little flare. Would that words had the same effect on my life. So much has been building - a thunderhead in the afternoon sky - and I'm waiting for the storm to break. But my life isn't so dramatic, it's just the accumulation of inertia and unfinished dreams and I job that I no longer enjoy.

Oh, all of the games that we play - and I find myself raging against, but can't get away from. The ways we dance around each other, the small talk, the ways we use another other without ever really seeing who's there to begin with - the objectification. Confession - I suck at small talk and the general niceties of supposedly polite conversation - except I'm not blunt enough to tell anyone to just cut the bullshit. But sit me down and let me talk about something real and I can go for hours - I miss the late night college free-for-alls - some ofthe best damn theologizing I have ever done - and the rest seems so trivial sometimes. And yet, and yet...I'm still so far apart from the real.

I told a friend recently that I wish I could just pack up and leave - he said he would travel the world with me (knowing as little as he does, no less!) - a nice thought. I wish I were so carefree. I've gotten old and I'm feeling cobwebs set in at early age. But I believe there's enough passion in me yet to break out of this - and I keep hoping that I will find a bit more of it again once I just get out of this present inertia that's tied around work that I want to but no longer enjoy.

It's strange - I can spend hours getting lost in the issues and the debates and the details of the decisions that ought to be made, but the second I start trying to frame it all into my work context I lose all interest - I get bored or weighed down by trying to piece it all together into something that no longer makes sense to me. So, I end up only scratching the surface - I end up like my office, just outside the beltway, just outside of where things really happen - and I want more.

So, let it rain some more and wash enough of this restlessness out of me that I'm able to shake some of the cobwebs and dust and spread a little of my own thunder.....