Is this dream going to end??? It's been two months on the road, and every morning I wake up, I feel like I'm still dreaming, and it takes longer and longer for this euphoric yet eerily opaque feeling to subside as I focus back into my preconfigured sense of reality.
Everyone has experienced the "Where the fuck am I?" wake up in the early morning after either a booze-infused debauchery of well-liquor double bourbon and diet night, or the random pullout futon you were able to successfully fanangle from a group of 20 beachweekers squeezing into the one hotel room they decided to split....Where the FUCK am I? Heart jerks a few times outside your chest, instant of panic, then the "Aha" moment and all the glorious events of the MorningEve begin rushing in fast forward fashion with fuzzy yet focusing force.
This is a feeling of unfamiliarity that has become a part of my morning routine, which made me begin to analyze this funny brainfart, why it happens, and what does it mean to me...
When you wake up in the morning, what is the first conscious stream of thoughts that flash through your bedhead? Most start running through their upcoming schedule of events for the day; morning wood...check, brush teetch...check, drive to work...check, or maybe it's thinking about how you are going to ask that girl at the coffeeshop out finally, or maybe how long you can set your snooze alarm before you're off to study.
Whoopi in Sister Act 2 once told miss Lauryn Hill that "if you wake up EVERY morning and the first thing you think about doing is singing, then you need to be a singer." If I take this theory and plug in my inputs of morning marination, my results arent as clear...What happens when every morning you wake up in a different bed, couch, state, coast with no schedule of events in order? I am now very aware of the "Where the fuck am I?" felling as it is now normal to not have a clue why or where I am the instant I wake up. Unfamiliarity is now one of my most familiar feelings.
Having absolute freedom to pick up and fly is an acquired mindset that is built upon being certain that you will encounter uncertainty. When I wake up the first thing I think about or ask myself is where the fuck am I going today? It's understood that I will keep moving, that's what I do, that's the only thing that feels RIGHT now...Jesus, I have the worst type of ADD, and travelling is my Adderal. (Again I continue to draw the fine line between escaping and exploring, I make sure not to confuse the two. This is an important point to keep in mind)
So, according to the school of Sister Mary-Clarenceism, as long as I keep asking myself every morning "Where next Tim?" when I arise from my slumber, then by God I should be a Vagabond!
Can this last forever?
I'd like to think so, but deep down I feel like it will catch up. Let me put it like this: My travelling lifestyle is like being with a different chick every week, sounds rockstar until you realize you can't get past the first layer. You see a lot of pussy, but never the holistic woman that your "making love to." So in a sense, I'm a travelling slut; fucking, fingering, and sometimes fisting as many holes along the road, just for a taste, but never having the commitment to make passionate love to just one city. So what's going to slow me down first, a woman or a place? Hopefully it's both...Vegas is going wild right now, stay tuned for the point spread...
