Meatmachine.info

I’m waiting in the Chico train station, for the 3:50am southbound to San Jose. In the company of 3 other passengers-to-be, sleeping peacefully on the indoor benches.

I packed my bag 3 times this morning. The first time I packed it with everything I wanted to bring with me to San Jose. The contents of the bag reflected what I wanted to do when I got there. The bag was too heavy though, so I unpacked the contents onto my bed.

The second time I packed my bag it was with everything I needed to bring to San Jose. A laundry list of assignment I needed to complete while away from school determined which notebooks and which textbooks to bring with me. The bag was still too heavy, literally and figuratively.

The third time I packed my bag only with what I believed I might actually use. The contents were reduced to those items I honestly thought my time in San Jose would necessitate. Laptop, notebook, sketchbook, book of poetry, two textbooks, a change of clothes, and a camera.

My bag is a box, more tangible than most. The final contents represent my intentions and aspirations, and they define my options and actions.

I am having trouble staying awake as I wait for the train to come, my eyes close on their own, and I long for a montage cut-scene to transport me to next week. Hopefully the train will get here soon.