Wow! It’s been nearly two months since I’ve written
anything. (I apologize in advance for any rustiness. Is ‘rustiness’ even a
word? According to my computer’s spell-check it is.) Actually, I take that
back; it’s been nearly two months since I’ve written anything significant, for over
the past eight weeks I have written partial lyrics to about a dozen songs that
will certainly not be recorded by any major or minor artists anytime soon. The last
time I went this long without writing, I was helping to power a canoe down the
Mississippi River. This time I was walking down the Oregon Coast. (Which you
will hopefully get the chance to read about next year when I publish my much
anticipated adventure travel book: A Long
Walk on the Beach: 420 Miles on the Oregon Coast Trail.)
[What
a dreadful opening paragraph! Hopefully by the end of whatever this is, I’ll
have gotten the rust out of my literary joints…]
I want to talk about The Grind, The Groove,
and The Goals, but not necessarily in that particular order. “The Goal” was to complete
the Oregon Coast Trail—in which I succeeded—but The Goal was so much more than a
simple achievement; it was the end destination of a journey that began long
before I ever started walking. I was in “The Groove”: I had a job, a savings
account, a place to lay my head, food on the table, etc., etc., etc…But, boy,
could I feel “The Grind”: having to wake up each day to go to a job I despised,
to put money in a savings account that I obviously didn’t need, to lay my head in the same place day in and day out, to put
food on the table that was only making me fatter and lazier, etc., etc., etc… I
was living, for lack of a better term, THE AMERICAN DREAM! But, unfortunately,
not MY American Dream. And that’s why
I needed a goal. Any goal.
[Okay,
that paragraph was a bit better, but I still think I can do better…]
It
was around New Year’s that I asked my girlfriend, “Say, do you want to hike the
Oregon Coast Trail this sum…”
“Yes!”
she said before I could finish the question.
I
suddenly had a goal, and that simple goal, that derived from that unfinished
question, was enough to make The Grind worthwhile; enough to justify living in
The Groove. The job I despised suddenly had meaning (even if I knew that I
would be quitting it soon enough), there was a good reason for that money I was saving, the food that was making
me fatter was providing me with much needed calories to burn later, etc., etc.,
etc… That prepackaged American Dream finally had a purpose: it allowed me to
follow My American Dream.
And
for six weeks, that’s precisely what I did: I followed My American Dream. And I’m
aware that six weeks may not seem like a long time to most hard working adults,
but when you’re traveling substantial miles on foot, hours suddenly feel like days,
days feel like weeks, and weeks feel like months. All that Grind, all that time
stuck in The Groove, it all finally seemed worthwhile because I was following
The Goal. And a funny thing happened when I was on that journey: The Goal began
to multiply. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline, or a feeling of purpose, or
having nowhere to go but forward, but before I knew it, I was making lists,
developing numerous goals, things I told myself I would accomplish as soon I
got back in the groove, things like: finish editing my novel, write 1,000 words
a day, exercise more, watch less TV, read more books, find a job that I didn’t
despise, learn a foreign language, etc., etc., etc… until that list seemed so
good and perfect and promising, that I couldn’t wait for the current Goal to be
accomplished so I could get back into The Groove and go after them. I only
forgot about one little detail—THE MOTHERFUCKING GRIND!
[Slowly
but surely, the rusty parts are being oiled…]
I
couldn’t wait to get home. I couldn’t wait to get back in the groove. My feet
hurt, I was drinking entirely too much, and I was downright sick of walking ALL
THE TIME! But The Grind had other ideas. My first day home I threw my back out.
Throughout the entire hike, my lower lumbar had felt better than it had in
years, so, boy, was it a surprise when I plugged my computer into an outlet and
it felt like somebody stabbed my in the spine with a broken beer bottle. So, I
spend a few days on the couch, “taking it easy,” watching the Olympics, and
accomplishing nothing. By the time it’s healed, it’s time to go back to work, back
to a job I despise, because often times Goals have a funny way of causing your savings
account to bottom out. And after working all week in 100+ degree temperatures, I
want nothing more than an ice cold beer, which quickly turns into a three day
bender, because after all, I have friends I haven’t seen in two months that are
more than happy to hear about my adventures over a drink or ten, and then all
that booze weakens my immune system and out of nowhere I’m struck with the flu.
And I know what you’re thinking: Who the
hell gets the flu in the middle of summer? My thoughts exactly!!! And
before I know it, two weeks have gone by since I accomplished that original Goal
and I haven’t even begun to tackle a single one of my new goals. FUCKING GRIND!
But
it’s okay, because I know I’m not alone. Because if you’re not in the Grind,
then you’re not really living. And without the Grind, the Groove would be too
easy, and the Goal wouldn’t seem as sweet. I just need to get back in the Groove.
These thousand words are a good start, (even if they are covered in rust). And
when I’m done typing this, maybe I’ll go for a run, start in on a new book, edit
some of my novel, practicar algun espanol, etc., etc., etc…[and hopefully work
some more of this rust off…]
Oh,
Yes! About those song lyrics. I’d hate to be a tease, so here is small sample:
Go ahead
and judge my worn-out soles
And eye me
like I’m filled with sin
But I’d
rather walk these lonely roads
Than hide
my head in your crowded inn
And, yes, most of the lyrics
deal with walking…go figure.
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