Westward

  Tomorrow I go alone to the Sonoran desert of Arizona to let life intervene. The only plan is that there is no plan. I am now confronted with insecurities that I long ignored, after a year of having nearly every single day planned hour by hour by hour. Sleep at 9. Up at 5 - study. Class. Find time to eat. Study. Walk dog. Try to see a friend. Coffee. Sleep. It was a cycle in which I lost a connection with my self. I am happy for the year, despite this: it was a triumph of straight A's, still making time to take trips and so on. But I cant remember a day where I had some time to stop and really take stock of my place in time and space. Lost in a routine. This upcoming year will only prove itself more hectic, more expensive, and more stressful. I've lost my muse.

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It's an unavoidable cliche, but there is something to the American road that prompts discovery of physical place and equally the nonphysical. I want the red rocks, the stretches of highway, to engage me the way textbooks and concrete steps cannot. Let it come alive again.