Static Shocks.

The world outside my window seems to change more relative to everything else. I see the grass grow and the leaves fall in a neat little arrangement underneath the shadows where the clothesline would have cast a shadow some time ago. The birds come and go from the feeder, never the same ones, and the woodchucks continue to ruin the tomato crop. Some of the lawn dressings dance in the moonlight and find themselves opposite their old locale. But this is only because the backyard is secluded and private. If anything's put there, it's because I put it there.

In the broader view of the world, the opposite is true, for most areas are not so secluded and private, and some are trafficked quite constantly by many a commuter. They are strewn with litter from inconsiderate pedestrians, broken bottles from our street prophets, and useless propaganda put up by the corporations and businesses of the modern world to convince YOU that you're not good enough as you are and that their product is the only true way to happiness. Consumerism really is the predominant religion of the 21st Century.

But even though the trash is different, the mess is constant. Day-by-day I find myself awaking to the same alarm, commuting along the same road to the same job to sell the same damn dishes over and over. But in two weeks this comfortable, albeit frustrating, little cycle will shatter.

Self-actualization is proving to be more difficult to achieve than originally assumed. Proceed with caution, ask no questions, take no prisoners.