'So we follow our wandering paths, and the very darkness acts as our guide and our doubts serve to reassure us'
Jean Pierre de Caussade
A grey foggy day in the city, it seems everybody just waiting for the rain to fall. The mood on the street so different from what it was these past few days. So much for the long awaited return of spring, even the umbrella vendor dude is in hiding today. Of all things I have jazz playing, it seems to fit with my mood and the coming rain. Plus it is Jazz Fest time back at home and I always enjoyed working those weeks.
I always seem to call my dad’s home. Sometimes I’m not so sure where my home is now. State College got to the point it felt like home, or at least an extension of it. I don’t get that feeling in the Village, not yet anyway. It has the feel of an extended working vacation. As if I was at the beach house and bartending at Fred’s while I was there. Now the beach house is a place I could call home but somehow I don’t think the owner has that in mind.
I guess I just don’t feel attached to any one place at the moment. I feel like I’m floating above it all, just watching my own life unfold and waiting to see how it turns out. It’s not the first time I have felt this way and I have no idea what it means to feel this way. Really I don’t want to know because it can’t be good.