A Journalists thoughts

Originally Posted on September 25, 2011 at 3:45 PM

          

The hustle bustle of cities, where suits get laid out at the first site of a sun-beam, and where windows in tall housing structures open to let sun break through the towering buildings illuminating small kitchens and releasing a "day starting" energy to the world of business, writings, servicing, and feeding starts is good and all...but in all honestly can you often find someone getting a breath in the contained world of CEO's, Journalists, and fast paced on-goers?

I want to breathe in a place where the wakeup call isn't the sounds of horns beeping and sirens blaring, but rather having my face softly tickled by the majestic morning colors blissfully peering over the roofs of the stable, quiet homes. The place where, when you arise from a calm night’s sleep you are treated to the delectable smell of coffee and a warm breakfast, prepared using ingredients from a local market and a tradition, rather than a plastic sealed disposable bowl, requiring only two minutes in the "warmth' of radio waves. I want to leave the life of rushing to write that insignificant article of the fire on 64th street, leaving behind the 30 minutes to escape from the cubicle I spent years of late night coffee, and social life apathy for my desperate studying to receive. Where, I no longer hear the constant array of tones produced by the ‘convenient’ machines that improve communication, meanwhile increasing frustration to my concentrated mind. I want to leave from the place of extreme exhaustion after following a case for weeks, to end with an 11th page, curve-ball story.
I wish to escape and go far, to a small town, where the general store is their "Wal*Mart". Where, Fast food is the fresh-handmade egg and cheese omelet, snuggled up to three sausages and hash browns found in the Diner on the towns' Main Street. Living in an environment where the movie theaters are the local banquet hall's stage every Thursday night. I will truly be living in my home when, Friday's are spent cheering on the high school football team. This being game that has been validated by the countless posters and banners, hanging in shops around town. Gestures signifying pride in the town and the people of it. Oh I imagine how delightful it would be to be living by homes, where the lawns are mowed daily, even though the morning mist still rests calmly on the crowns of each grass head. Just to provide others with the morning aroma, making the day start off whole. This small town where everyone knows everyone and everyone has purpose.
This is my great belonging, I would go for a summer and become one with the people, write for the local newspaper to get the feel of how a car crash here, is equivalent to the people there... as a twin building attack is here. Coffee will persist to aide in starting my day, but at least I know the coffee comes from my kitchen, and not that of a barista’s doing. I know my morning regimen will not be rushed, because the people there have all the time of the bountiful day to wait. I take a breath as I write this to realize...this get away has, and still remains evident, it's just part of my journey to find it. My love for writing will always be discernible, and follow me where-ever I go. My only hopes are that my life can keep up with the rush of myself inflicted thoughts and ideas, to stay in touch with my dream place...