5/14 late post

Alright, so the truth is out. I adore Rebecca and Doug, but the bookstore itself is HIDEOUSLY BORING. It's okay, I try to make the best of it. Although it would appear that they are noting my lack of interest. Really, how interested can a person be in cleaning stacks upon stacks of books each and every day, with half hearted attempts at conversation and returned weak laughter. I feel awful that I can't immerse myself in it, can't enjoy it the way I'm sure they do. It's caused me a lot of guilt. It's not them that I dislike, not even the store itself, just the mindless, monotonous tasks.

Sometimes I think that for Walkabout, someone should just say- my walkabout is LIFE. That would be amazing. I mean, how often do we honestly live life as we should? I don't think many people can say they live each day to its full potential. I know I don't. Especially not lately. Although this new healthy lifestyle is absolutely fantastic. Who knew being in shape and eating right could feel so good?

If I could do whatever I wanted, I wonder what i'd do. Maybe i'd stay up all through the night, awe struck by the moon. I'd be hit by a sudden intensely creative urge and write pages upon pages in what was once just a blank notebook without a story. Perhaps i'd get up at dawn and climb the tree in my backyard to the very top to watch the sun rise. I could go on the streets and observe people, write sketches about them, wonder what their life was. I can picture myself going up to a homeless man, quietly offering him a sandwich, and then asking him how exactly he ended up here. There's a chance that said man [although I won't discriminate; not all homeless people are men, obviously, this is just an example] would throw his sandwich back at me and call me a number of ludicrous names... but there's also a chance that he would open up and tell me the story that no one else thought to ask.

Now, isn't that a learning experience?
I guess it depends on what you think you should be taught.