A return to reality

You ever have one of those prolonged experiences in your life that absolutely change how you live, think, feel. . . everything? But then, it's over, and everything's instantly and often painfully brought back to the way they were, and you're left to wonder, "was it all just a dream, made up by my own mind?" The mission was like this for me. It was over suddenly, and when I returned home everything was the same. I vivedly remembered the last few weeks before my departure, but everything else was like an unusually epic dream, the details all fuzzy and unclear. Some things about this life are oddly surreal to me, like, for example, the passage of time. Time is just a mortal concept, and maybe it's for that reason that it feels so unnatural to me. I want to live in the moment, halt time's progress during those experiences most cherished and forever remembered. I've caught myself wishing this more often lately than ever before. The moment then ends and the only feeling of consolation is achieved through the hope of things to come. Optimism is much easier when our ultimate destinies are all laid out for us.

I can't really grasp a single, cohesive point right now, I just needed to ramble a bit.

A feeling of helplessness

Last night someone repeatedly called me during my shift and I didn't recognize the number and kept it up until I was honestly very anxious to leave work so I could call the person back. When I was finally able to make the call, all I heard was a thick, sonic buzz that effectively drowned out any voice that could possibly be trying to cut through it all. After listening patiently for a few moments, I heard music, then a voice, though I could only distiguish a few solitary words. I realized it was Brook, my bro in-law, who was calling me from a Nine Inch Nails concert, presummably to gloat. He put his phone on speaker so I could listen for a while to a song, which was interesting, but still a little cruel. Later last night, after I had returned to Jessica's apartment, he called me under better circumstances, wanting to relate to me most of what had happened, or at least express the joy that had apparently risen to a dangerous level.

Brook told me that he had no idea how much of a Nine Inch Nails fan as was, and was excited that I was able to appreciate his experience better than most. He also didn't realize how my envy, like his joy, had reached epic proportions. Someday I'll live the dream and see the two shows that are on the top of my list of shows that must me seen by me before I die or before the groups stop touring. There are only three groups on the list: Radiohead, Nine Inch Nails and The Arcade Fire. I've already seen Dave Matthews Band and Weezer, but overall I feel like my concert resume is hideously thin for a 22 year-old music junkie like myself.