Solitary Confinement

Fire season might be starting real early for me. I got a call from a former crew boss today asking me if I was ready to go out. They’re expecting lightning strikes tonight, which may cause something to flare up somewhere and the division just wants to be prepared with a crew if need be. If I do go out this week, it’ll be the earliest I’ve ever gone out. That’s kind of exciting, but also terrifying because I’m not done with my one big project at school, and that’s upgrading every machine to Windows 8.1. I’m close but no there yet.

I’ve always thought I’d do well in solitary confinement. It’s not much different than how I’m living now. I don’t mean that to sound as pitiful as it sounds. It was just a thought with no purpose or anything. Just a thought.

I miss laughing. Is that weird?

I’ve yawned at least two dozen times during this entry that my eyes are watering now. Tears are streaking down my cheek in rivulets of an ersatz existence. I’m wasting my life away, wasting the seconds I’ve been gifted on bullshit. I’m not living to my full potential.

I’m afraid to go out firefighting, but I’m also very eager. It’ll break up my life and provide some much needed novelty. I don’t know if firefighting makes financial sense, but it makes emotional sense. Four years of this. I’ve always told myself I’ll do five fire seasons and I’m done. I might have to cut that down to four. I need to move away from Montana, from California, and toward something else, something new.

I don’t think I’ll ever get married or have kids. I think I’ll become a published writer one day. I think I’m good. But I’m not good at anything else. Not really. I can’t hold friendships. I can barely make new ones. I live my life locked inside four walls and a roof.

I have a half-empty bottle of wine in the fridge and another episode of television to watch. Can’t let it go to waste.