“Change in all things is sweet.”
Sitting here in a waiting room in central Northern Indiana I look around and see three very unique people. I’m pretty sure they’re thinking the same thing, “who’s that girl in the polka dot tights, mid calf Alpine Stars all weather motorcycle boots, a sweater dress that barely covers her ass, and hair that looks like she slept in the back seat of a truck?” Yeah. That’s me, right now, in all my unemployed glory. (truth be told, I’ve actually landed a job, I just chose not to start quite yet). I’m still travelling around, some things never change, but there are plenty of things in my that have changed, like the over all approach at self care and respect for others.
Looking out over these people, I see a man, I’m guessing 68, who looks like he has spent all of his life being whipped by the winds that whip off the lake to the north. His skin looks like it has been weathered like a saddle, however, his eyes are still young and smile even when his face is cast down staring into not one but two different smart phone screens. I’m sure if he could change one thing, it’d be the fact that he’s got a son in prison serving time for a felony and a daughter that moved to California to have four kids that he never gets to see. He can’t change the weather, he can’t change the weather, but he can come here to the Chevy dealership and get his oil changed.
The next guy, a quite attractive fella about my age, staring I to the TV like it’s a black hole sucking his attention. He hasn’t once in the hour I’ve been here looked at his phone, and he sits comfortably on his leg. He gets called to the desk to retrieve his car from service, but honestly he didn’t look very excited. He’s wishing he could change the fact he bought a Chevy equinox instead of that hot sedan he wanted. His wedding band is too big for his finger and he smiles at me as he leaves. He wishes he didn’t have to go to work as a manager at the local grain store, he wishes he would have traveled out of state for college. She wants to change everything about his life.
The young lady next to me looks as though she is about to cry, and keeps sniffling although she had been in here out of the whipping wind outside for at least twenty minutes. She has boots that remind me of a pair that I own, she wears jeans like I would wear, and she has an ariat jacket, suggesting that she has some sort of interest in equestrian stuff. She hasn’t taken her nose out of her phone the entire time, she wishes she could change the channel, but doesn’t (even though the remote is right there). She holds a silly winter hat in her lap with a puffy ball on top, and looks so sad. She wishes she were riding her horse, she wants to change the fact that she is in a relationship that makes her feel devalued. She wishes she could change the channel, not only on the TV, but in her own life as well.
He’s so tired.
He’s so over the family life.
She’s so sad.
They all want to be someplace other than here, although, they really don’t want to be anywhere else either. I want to be nowhere other than here, although, with the snow falling quietly outside it makes me want a good glass of Bourbon. It makes me want to feel my nose warm up and my eyes slant a little. This feeling had been haunting me for the past three days, and although I haven’t partook (is that a word) it’s nagging at me, tugging on my sleeve, asking nicely to give in.
I wish I could change that, for Christ sake, I wish I could change that. I don’t know why it infests itself in my brain like a damn flock of bats in an attic, but it does. I want to change the fact that whenever I feel any sort of emotion or feeling I need to cram in down and away with booze so that I don’t actually feel anything. I wish I could change the fact that for the past couple of days I’ve cried quietly to myself out of frustration over trying to change. The problem is that although I’m changing, the people I love in my life only know me for what I was, not who I can be.
That, I wish I could change.
“I’d love to change the world, but I don’t know what to do. So I’ll keep that up to you. ”
Ten Years After