when you're not living your dream, it always feels like a mid-life crisis...

I woke up friday, on the dawn of my 36th birthday, with that calm still feeling of autumn in the air, the air once again crisp in the mornings, the leaves beginning to turn colors and prepare for their fall. I had wanted to prepare myself for 36. I googled any information I could find about the age of 36 in terms of philosophy, religion, psychology, astrology, and/or numerology. It seemed strange to me that I could not even find a Turning 36 for Dummies. I had figured that I would find some information about what to expect at this age, especially from the ancient religions and philosophies who had examined astronomy and astrology. I wanted to understand and make sense of this stirring inside, this need for change on some deeper level within that's making me feel desperate to move out, to move away, to seek something new, something different...

Some people might call this a mid-life crisis, but I think I've been feeling this way for a while now. I guess I've always had this innate desire for change. While some people can't handle change and spend their lives striving for stability and security, I've always felt safe in the idea that things will change. The idea that things might stay the way they are now for the rest of my life has always made me feel uncomfortable. Growing up, I watched my father wake up every morning at 5 a.m., go to work, come home and watch T.V., only to go to bed to wake up and do the same thing again the next day. Every. Single. Day. And I thought, This is not for me. Isaac Asimov is credited with the quote, "The only constant is change," and I've always found comfort in this truth. Maybe the truth is  that when you're not living your dream, it always feels like a mid-life crisis.

nostalgia

Hurricane Irene 
  swept through my home 
state leaving many at the
  mercy of the darkness.

In the days that followed,
without power, there was
 a calm that came without
 the noises electricity
makes around the house.

People took to the streets,

And I saw kids outside, teen-
 agers too hanging around
friends and family talking 
 face to face in the open air.

 Families walked together,
flashlights bobbing a stream
of light against the street. One
 night, I drove by a laughing

family, in their front yard, talk-
ing to neighbors as the sun set
painted the sky. I went to sleep
 as the sky darkened,

without a care for time.

There was something peaceful
about it all. I really like this, I
admitted to myself. Days later,

the electricity came back on.
Shouts & cheers were heard around
the streets. Someone set off fireworks. 

And then all was quiet.

I went for a walk later that night
and thought about the closed
doors of the homes I passed. 

The streets were once again lonely.