glass ceiling.

this summer i will stand at the intersection where robert johnson sold his soul to the devil in exchange for the ability to be the greatest blues guitarist to ever live.

other than that, my current out look is kind of bleak. the winter is getting inside of my bones, the marrow long frozen, no longer free flowing. with no school and no work for another month or so, this sleepy midwestern metropolis seems seven shades slower, each day starting well into the afternoon. i'm currently filling my time with half-hearted attempts at hibernation. in a couple of weeks, i will be forced south and then east, but that should be a welcome relief. as i contemplate the coming semester, the spring, the eternity that always stretches just beyond our fingertips, i am coming to grips with several things. as the semester begins, the weather will not immediately improve, it will take several months, and by the time the hard, north-iowa soil chooses to thaw, the "spring" semester will be just about finished. that is a welcome truth, however, i will jump straight from winter into the healthful kisses of the summer sun, and that may cause quite the mental lapse. also, there will be many unforeseen (but obviously somewhat forseen) obstacles to fill the remaining winter months: drake, des moines, apartment shopping, trips to indy, balancing work/magazine/20 credit hours, hannah still being around, planning the trip by not planning, making preparations for the summertime, and all the other things that one must do when there is nothing else to occupy time. I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF JACK JOHNSON. my brother has a new obsession, so my shuffle on the old home computer constantly has to ruin my day by playing this beach inspired rot. (a deep breath of relief). i'm starting to see that i'm not all that different than anyone else. i have always viewed myself as quite the outsider, now i'm starting to think that i just fantasise about being so much more than a man. none of us are really the superheroes we make ourselves out to be in our own heads. the midwest is shrinking. the small-town bubbles we grew up in used to stretch all the way to the sun, now they are shrinking down to exclude the eves of the tallest buildings. city limits always provided the main-measurements, the diameter cut down main street. however, the fluctuation of our own glass ceilings has seemed to be a bit short as of late. i'm ready for the next steps, i now need to make them.