'we can reach our destination, but we're still a ways away'

Today I made 14 different trips in the car in less than 12 hours.

They were trips of little significance, but the most productive hours of my day were spent confined to a car.

Fourteen times. In less than 12 hours.

I went here and there.

Back and forth.

North and south.

East and west.

East and west.

East and west.

East and west.

East and west

There was lathering. There was rinsing. There was repeating.

It wasn't until the 13th trip that the thought of not returning home crossed my mind.

Did I say crossed? I meant it parked there. The idea of not returning home parked - probably illegally - in the space that had opened up in the front of my brain, and it proceeded to sit there with its motor running and its brakes engaged, allowing the glowing fire of its questionable intent to shine, confusing the other thoughts that circled the lot, wondering if it the thought was there to stay for awhile, or planning to reverse right out so one of them could slip victoriously back into the prized position.

In the time I spent in left turn lane limbo, my signal blink, blink, blinking my original intent, I considered my other. I glanced briefly into the driver's side mirror and back toward where I'd come, then quickly turned my eyes forward and thought of where I could go and who I might be when I arrived there.

I liked it there, that place where I imagined ending up. I thought I could be awesome there. I could go on and on and tell you why I did, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because it's late and I'm tired.

And it doesn't matter because on my 14th trip, I pointed the car toward the west again, and once again, I'm home.

I just wish I knew what I was doing now that I'm here again.

among the things i've recently decided...

I don't have enough reason(s) and/or excuse(s) in my life to use the words 'nut punch.'

This honestly comes as a gigantic surprise and/or disappointment to me, especially considering how often in my life of late I feel like leaving someone with a subterranean depression of the gonads. I did use it earlier today, and I have to be honest, ever since, I haven't been able to stop thinking about how I can use it again.

Nut punch.

Nut punch, nut punch, nut punch.

Nut punch.

So how 'bout you? What have you decided lately?

sidebar - Subterranean Depression of the Gonads is the name of my band. We play emo music and never look at the audience while performing. I'm the cute one on bass.