"Don't put off till tomorrow what you can do today", "Ambition feels good", "I am my own house elf". These are but a few of the daily affirmations and wise sayings that have stuck with me over the past few weeks. The last time I nose dived into a funk, I very quickly came to my senses and pulled back on the stick-metaphorically speaking, of course!. Cheesy and ridiculous sayings kept popping into my mind as my body became a weapon against all disorder and waste in the apartment. Grand ideas like "If I had an organizer for my desk, I'd never have to search for my keys & wallet again!" burst forth, followed immediately by the formulation of plans like "Buy an organizer". These plans were urgent, and required immediate action. Some things I did I had already resolved to do months before but had neglected, like working out and cleaning the apartment for 20 minutes before reading the paper over breakfast each morning. Other things involved a large amount of money and some long term planning. All of these goals, from the smallest to the largest, rode on the back of the immense angst and ambition that suddenly burst forth out of the clouds and into the bright blue sky of a summer.... You get the picture.

Right. I must say that writing is probably one of those things that gets easier the more one does it, and harder the more time one allows to pass between writing projects. Sheesh!

So, this angst. I believe what helped it set it alight was an old and lasting disdain I felt for inaction. As a young lad, I half expected to see a relative do something of note, or to achieve financial success of some kind. Instead, what became apparent was the fact that large families, religious convictions, and a simple lack of initiative were not particularly conducive to the birth and realization of amazing accomplishments. Now that I look back on it, its obvious that my mom or my uncle had their hands full taking care of me, my brothers and sisters, and my cousins. Not having even the smallest silver spoon, having to contend with divorce, and being single would have made raising children an act to simply survive. At any rate, my siblings and I were very aware of the fact that we didn't have a lot of money, that our relatives didn't have a lot of money, and that nobody in the whole clan lived a comfortable, fun life. While I looked up to everyone in my family for one reason or another, I never observed anyone doing or accomplishing anything that I'd consider cool. Among my siblings, there were more than a few of us who thought that there might exist a Travis, or a Satchel, curse. It was a do-nothing curse. I resolved then as a child that I would not be a do-nothing. A few weeks ago, I felt too much like one, and it really pissed me off.

When I was 12, my mom met a man named Bill. They later married. After a split and remarriage, the couple moved me, my sister Erin, and brother Seth into a deluxe double wide trailer in a rural area south of Parma, Idaho. Bill owned the property, which included a barn and alfalfa fields, as well as a tractor, two dirt bikes, and some junker cars. Bill was a charismatic man who dreamed big. He wanted all of us to help him transform that dusty land into some sort of paradise with orchards that grew peaches and apples. He wanted to remodel the bunkhouse and build a home. He wanted to have animals in the barn. In the end, we had none of these things, thanks in large part to the fact that Bill was much more of a dreamer than he was a doer. After a couple of years on that windswept hill overlooking the Owyhees, during which time a few trees were planted and a window was placed in the bunk house, Mom divorced Bill and moved Seth, Erin, and I into a Homedale cottage.

Several years later, Mom met and married James who, like Bill, was a charismatic dreamer. Understandably, my mom was again caught up in thoughts of an ideal life in a beautiful rural part of Idaho-this time in a single wide trailor in the Emmett Valley. Allegedly, James's dreams involved more than finding financial success with his computer hobbies while Mom raised his six boys. He told my mother that he had a dreampt of the second coming of Christ during which time volcanic eruptions would destroy much of the area but leave his home untouched.
After moving in with James, his six boys, my Mom, and my sister Erin; I decided that it was the perfect time take up my Dad's offer to move in with him at his home in Independence, Kansas.

The anger I felt in response to my recent stagnation was surely fueled in part by experiences I had with Bill and James. Still, my anger wasn't directed at anyone in particular, including myself. Instead, I imagine inaction as something tangible-a barrier to pass or an opponent to conquer...