I want this.

I don't want to talk about how I want to be somewhere else. I want this. I just want to fill up my time with things and be done with it.

This winter, I came back to Philadelphia. The latent steps to my career-ladder were unimportant. The doldrums of the year are the perfect interruption to momentum, and my intent was to rewrite my ambitions. There, the place of my upbringing, served a singular purpose. I came home for a professional intermission, as it were. I didn't want to focus on the next great thing, my resume for a long shot job, or some tirelessly crafted cover letter which would only see one pair of eyes. Life would be so simple. So refreshing. But to my dismay, I am again confined to rock climbing niche I so happily forced upon myself. The collection of relevant jobs in such an unlikely place would have been to any other person, wildly exciting. And I admit, it is cool. Comfortable. But what I came east seeking was not progress, but rather an answer to the questions "what do you want to be when you grow up?" or, "why do you want to be what you want to be when you grow up?"

See, we all dream. There are days when I frantically scribble thoughts down in my notebook on the bedside table at 3 in the morning or squander an hour of precious, precious life studying the crux pitches of the Northwest Face of Half Dome with a jittery anticipation of spring. Everyone has their own, personal Northwest face, of course. I am absolutely happy to continue on living one of many dreams in the outdoors, but a relentless pursuit of these dreams will surely result in the fabulous, roman candle blaze Jack Kerouac so haphazardly described. Maybe self-doubt is as important as self-confidence?

Yesterday I make a collage, and, sure enough, I still don't want to be an artist. But it was worth remembering I don't want to be an artist any more than anyone else wants to be an artist. Art is hard. The same goes for any niche(rut): Make sure it's the right niche(rut).

So make a pit stop somewhere and do something categorically useless. Give your glowing and eager eyes a moment to forget which way is up, or down, or forward. Soon, you'll be somewhere filling the gas tank of your home in the middle of the night with not so much as a molecule of hesitation or confusion, which will feel perfectly reassuring. I want this, I know it.

Riley.

P.S. Merry Christmas, buds! I miss every single one of you.

The New American Road Trip Mixtape: A Book by Brendan Leonard from Brendan Leonard on Vimeo.
This dude preaches, big time. So good.