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.

I find it really, really tough to write about myself without bitching or writing with a tinge (or a splash) of self-hatred or solipsism. When I give myself almost no time to actually think, shit comes out. That’s just the fact of it. The other truth is that even if I did have all the time in the world to craft a good essay, I probably wouldn’t. I would probably seek out pleasure in all the forms available to me instead of sitting down to write.

I love(d) habits. They helped me lose weight and keep fit, write books, and read hundreds of books. But habits dulled my life. It focused me on work and not on play. So for the past few weeks, I’ve been forgoing habits all together and living life on impulse. If I feel like spending 12 hours watching TV, so be it. If I feel like reading, I’ll read. The only thing I haven’t changed is this blog, where every night I sometimes groan at the fact that I have to write, and other times I have something to get off my chest so I love that I have to write.

I think part of growing up is realizing that you might never be the person you thought you would be as a kid. I thought I’d be married and have kids by now. I thought I would have been working in Hollywood already, making movies and traveling the world. I never thought I’d be a firefighter, but here I am, ready to start my fourth season. I never once thought I’d write a book, and here I am with two. I never thought I’d live in Montana. But I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. I repeat the same mistakes sometimes. I say stupid things to people sometimes. My fear prevents me from doing great things sometimes.

Life is short. We all know this. I know this very well. I wish I could be fearless in some aspects of my life, of my personality. Part of it is just accepting who I am and who I want to be. Accepting who I am takes courage, and sometimes I have that courage, but other times I don’t, and lately, I haven’t had that courage. I’m more content locking myself inside my own home than fighting the world, and I want to fight the world.

Shame is a powerful emotion. It has paralyzed me and prevented me from living the life I want. I’m ashamed of many of the mistakes I’ve committed since moving up here three years ago, but you know what? Mistakes are mistakes. The past is in the past. I’m in control of my life and my destiny, and I shouldn’t let anything impede my forward momentum. I have to keep moving my feet, keep fighting, because one day I’m going to close my eyes and never open them again. And before I do, I want to know I expressed myself as fully and as completely as possible.

It’s hot. I’m in shorts I wear no more than once every few years, and the breeze feels good. I hung up the two poster frames I received yesterday and added the posters to them. The place looks good. I’m now seriously considering buying a TV mount and a TV to hang up on my wall, and it will make what I do the most of — watching TV — much more pleasant. That’s also the perfect reason why I shouldn’t get a TV mount and a TV. I’ve been watching waaaay too much TV lately¹ and not enough reading, so my priorities need to change. Maybe I’ll buy a TV in a few months…

I’m still sore but I can feel my body healing. That’s good because I was hoping to reboot my workout regiment on Monday. I’m going to attempt Insanity again, but I’m hoping for a miracle where I find something else to do by then, but I doubt it. I haven’t weighed myself in weeks, and I’m afraid I’ve gained ten pounds or something. I’ve also completely abandoned by Paleo-centric diet, allowing bagels and beans and spaghetti into my diet like it was normal. The summer makes me lazy. Maybe it’s the heat…

It’s funny to think back at how productive I used to be. I used to have every minute of every day scheduled with something to do, and now I’m just doing what I feel like, and it seems like I’m at the same level of happiness regardless. What does that tell me? I don’t know exactly. I can’t trust myself? Maybe there’s more to life than work? More to life than having fun? That I need to strike some fucking balance?

Life is hard, and life is short, and life is ridiculous.

I’m in so much pain right now that I can barely walk. Sitting down feels amazing; walking around, not so much. And now I’m listening to Damien Rice because he knows about pain, and his pain makes me feel good. Better, I guess. I have blisters on the bottom of both feet, my thighs and calves are sore, my shoulders and upper back are sore, and life is hilarious. Something is seriously wired wrong in my head because all this pain feels good. It makes me laugh, especially when it hurts the most.

A week ago today she came back into my life and told me to never try to contact her again, and she told me never to talk to her little sister, who is a student at the school where I work. I was devastated all that day, and I wrote what is most likely the shortest entry during the life of this blog. A week later, and I feel better, even though I’m still thinking about her. I did everything for her, you know? This blog, my life transformation, everything, and she wants nothing to do with me. First of all, my goals were misguided. I shouldn’t have done anything for somebody who wanted nothing to do with me. Second, I did all of what I did on my own and for myself.

Fire season is here, and I’m on call, waiting for my first fire of the season. Unlike my previous seasons, I have a car to drive me to the division. I don’t have to rely on anyone to give me a ride anymore. I’m self-sufficient that way. Also, this could be my busiest fire season ever. We had a really dry year last year, and the weather is hitting record highs around here this month that shit could literally start blowing up. It’s awesome.

My Good Fucking Design poster arrived yesterday, and the two poster frames arrived today. My second poster should arrive next Wednesday, and by then, I’ll be done with buying posters. My next form of wall decoration will be family photographs and other types of photos I’ve taken that I want to hang up and admire for years and years to come. The definition of home is slowly becoming clear for me, and I’m understanding how significant of a thing it is.

I feel alone a lot. I’m with myself all the time, and I need a break. Fire season gives me that. New friends will give me that. A loving home will nourish that, I think. I hope.

I passed my pack test and completed my refresher course, which means I’m qualified to be a wild land firefighter for the summer of 2015. This year is going to be very active and very busy, at least that’s what I’ve been told. There’s already a crew up in Alaska fighting a fire up there, and it’s still June. That’s incredible. I actually hope to get called out sooner rather than later, even when I wasn’t feeling too enthusiastic about fire season this year. Simply being back in the grind, seeing familiar faces, surrounding myself with fire talk, it all just came back, all that enthusiasm just came back.

Except I’m sore. I’m really sore. I have blisters on my feet from my 3 mile pack test and the 45 pound weight vest dug into my shoulders, leaving a very painful mark on both shoulders. It was also hot, and I’m pretty sure the top of my head and the back of my neck were burned. I’m already miserable, but this will pass, I think… I hope.

It’s time to make some money. I know I’m making the best money of my life at school, but if I can make a little bit extra? Why not, right? I helped the fire instructor today with his computer issues, and I told him I did this for a living, and he “let” me help him for the whole course. It was pretty cool. If I can find some odd tech jobs similar to this, then I’ll be ecstatic. I wonder how to do that, though? Mine my network? Post on Craigslist? Post fliers around town or whatever? Eh, it’s just a thought that might never gain traction. OR IT COULD CHANGE MY LIFE. So dramatic! Haha.

A student from the USC School of Cinematic Arts called me not too long ago, and I answered. They’ve actually been calling me like once a week for the past few months, but I’ve always ignored them, but I was lying on my couch watching TV when I saw the call, and I knew they were going to ask me for money, so I thought about donating to them, and I thought, why not? Lets make this persons day. So I answered, and she told me her name, and we updated my contact information, and she talked about another addition to the cinema school, which is kind of ridiculous but we are the best film school in the world so why not, and then she talked about how alumni help current and future students by supporting and funding all scholarships, and she asked me if I would donate $250. Uhhh… I was willing to donate $50, but when I said $250 was too steep, she said that’s okay, how about $100? And I was like, how about $50? And she sounded really great and excited and I gave her my credit card number and yeah, some student will get a scholarship, and $50 of that will have come from me.

That’s a pretty nice capper to a pretty good day.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the stuff I’ve bought and the stuff I want to buy. I’ve realized that what I buy is a reflection of who I am and who I want to be. I have a style, and I’m trying to purchase my way toward manifesting that style in my home. From the design of the products I choose, to their colors, to the quantity of books and how I display them, it’s all a reflection of how I want to live.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my home. I’ve been recalling memories of my childhood, of my teenage years and early twenties when I was in college, to my early to mid twenties that I spent with my mom in California, to my late twenties now where I started over and am finally, truly living on my own, I’ve been thinking about it all. For the first time ever, I’m eager to have people come over to my place, my home. I didn’t realize I had that weighing on my mind until I rearranged my home to make room for my couch. A cornucopia of ideas exploded in my imagination and now all I’m thinking about is my home.

One of the thoughts that makes me sad is the fact that I first began trying to improve my home because of her, but she’s no longer a part of my life, which is for the best. It makes me sad, though, that I won’t be able to show it off to her. Ah well. That’s what the next girl is for.

I talked to a co-worker today and she told me that this place (this place referring to Montana) is a great place to raise a family but a horrible place for a single guy my age to live in. There’s nothing to do here, she said, and especially since I’m from the city, it could get really really boring. I agreed. We talked about me getting a passport and traveling to Canada or Europe and living my life in a fun way. I agreed. That’s been on my todo list for forever. I told her I wanted to move to New York. She said it would be very expensive, and I agreed. But I can’t stay here long-term. I told her I keep giving myself one year to decide what I want to do, and each year since I’ve been here, I’ve been giving myself another year and another year. One day it’s going to have to stop.

I think I’m type of guy who can’t stay in one place until he’s found what he’s looking for. I don’t know what that is or if that’s even true, but it feels true. It feels like I’m looking for a home, and every time I think I’m there, I screw it up.

My home feels great. I really love my couch, and I love the idea of the two new posters I bought and that are coming within the next few days. I love the idea of printing out a ton of pictures of my family and hanging them up all over the place. All over the place. I really want to bring somebody over to hang out and talk and other human things. The last piece of the puzzle is a TV. I need a TV, he said resignedly. Not yet, though, since I’m still paying off my expenses from California, like my car repairs, furniture, and gas. Hey, at least my credit score is over 745.

I spent most of my time at home on my couch, and it was amazing. I read and I watched TV and I’m trying to spend less time on my bed so I can fall asleep much quicker. Working out helped me sleep quick, but since I haven’t worked out in a few weeks, I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I take my pack test this Thursday, where I don’t know how I’ll do, and afterwards, once I’m in pain and sore, I’ll think about riding that wave back to a regular workout routine.

All three areas of my life have taken a backseat these past few months, but I’ve been focusing on one part — reading — this week, especially today. I’m really enjoying my New Yorker subscription. I finished the June 8 & 15 issue yesterday, and I’m halfway through the June 22nd issue. I should get this week’s issue tomorrow, so I’m hoping to get caught up in the next few days so by next week I’m all caught up. It’s a small and somewhat trivial thing to do, but small steps. I was also reminded on how much I missed reading on a couch. In 2011, I read over 100 books, and I did most of it on my mom’s couch back in California. Today reminded me of that. When you’re not thinking about comfort, your mind focuses on the task of reading. I don’t know.

That leaves me with writing. I’m done with my novel, and I still do think giving it space makes sense, but I miss writing. Every time I begin these entries, I think about writing fiction and I miss it, but I don’t miss waking up at 5 AM every morning to write. I’ve been waking up at 6 AM every morning, making a cup of coffee, and watching an episode of television on Netflix. This routine works for me, and it’s also making me super lazy. I’ve watched more TV these past few months than I did all of last year. I might be exaggerating, but that’s what it feels like.

So: working out will be crossed after the pack test on Thursday, reading has been going well and will continue to go well for now, and writing is in this nebulous zone right now. Small steps, small victories. That’s the only way to get back on track, and that’s what I want to do, to get back on track.

I bought a couch, and that marks the beginning of my midlife crisis. I say that it’s a midlife crisis because I kept asking myself whether I would have done this a few months ago, when things were seemingly going so well for me. The answer would have been no. I was happy with what I had, what I owned, and where I was in life. I’m unhappy. I decided to buy a couch to fill some sort of void inside of me, and you know what? I did, in a sense. I love the couch I chose, the place I put it, and the brio it gives my place. My place is my place, and my place feels like home. It’s awesome. I have a few more decorations to put up on my walls, but once I do that, I’m going to have to decide whether or not to get a TV. I implicitly decided not to get one once I decided to get a couch, but I was talking to my brother-in-law about it, and he said I could mount one up on my wall pretty easily. I didn’t think of that. That’s one thing I’m going to sit on for a bit and simply see what to do later.

My day has been long. I met the couch seller in Missoula, which is about an hour away. He lived on the fourth floor of this really nice apartment complex, and once I saw the couch, sat on it and knew the couch was perfect, I paid the man his cash and we carried the piece of furniture down four flights of stairs and crammed it into the back of my Durango. It fit perfectly. And now here we are, a man who’s lived in his own apartment for two and a half years and now, finally, has a couch. Better late than never, right?

I’m bragging about a couch. My brother-in-law said I need to go out on a date. I agree with him. I do. This couch is making me too giddy, right? I have nothing else going on in my life that a couch is my highpoint. Or low-point, depending on how you look at it. I might be in the middle of a midlife crisis. Who knows how long it’s been going on. Maybe since the first entry of this blog. Ha. Or maybe this weekend. Or maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m just self-dramatizing my life in order to have something to write about because I still need two and a half more months of writing before I’m done with my one year project. Or maybe this is just me, whatever this means. All this. All of it. The entirety of my life. It’s just me.

I plan to sit on my new couch and relax and read and think and maybe bring a girl over and watch my nonexistent TV and not talk and not read and not do anything but sex. It’s a love seat after all and TV is a distraction.

In order to distract myself from the hardships of life, I spent today rearranging my home in preparation for my new couch. I’m driving to Missoula tomorrow to pick it up from some guy I met through Craigslist. I bought two new posters and two poster frames to fill out my walls a little bit, and I’m in the middle of curating a selection of photos I’m going to print using Fracture. I really like what I have right now, and I’m really excited to try out my new ideas. I’m getting a couch! It’s going to really make my home feel like a home.

I’m not going anywhere. I need my home to be as comfortable as possible because I’m resigned to the fact that I don’t deserve anyone right now. I’m one of those people who just isn’t supposed to be with anyone, and at the moment, I’m okay with that. It is what it is, and I’m going to learn to live with it for now. I don’t know how long this will last, but at the moment, it feels indefinite.

Maybe one day I’ll write all the shit that I’ve purposely not written about on here, but that day hasn’t come yet. I’m still processing it all. I don’t know if I’m going firefighting this year. I honestly just feel lost, but I can’t delve any deeper than that because I simply don’t know what’s going on or what exactly I’m feeling.

I don’t think I’m a good person. I feel that but I don’t think that’s true. Good is the wrong word. I think I’m supposed to be alone. Sure, I’ll always have friends and family, but I’m always going to feel alone. That makes me feel bitter and angry and accepting of it all. Like I deserve it for some reason. I think I do deserve it. I’m not healthy.

I’m sad and tired and lost and a dozen more emotions. I drank a full bottle of wine last night and I passed out early. Then I woke up about three hours later, at around midnight, and I didn’t go back to sleep. I took an hour nap but I’ve been running on about four hours of sleep for the past 37 hours. I’m tired and done.

I rearranged furniture in my house because I decided that I’m going to get a couch. I really love this idea because I really want a couch to sit on instead of my bed, which I’m in far too long each day. I want a couch to sit on and lie down and read on and maybe even nap on. I moved my desk in front of the window, and it looks amazing there. I’m still tweaking my place, especially when I don’t know when I’m getting a couch, but even if I don’t, I’m going to live with this setup for now. It’s nice. I bought two more posters to fill out the walls, and I think they’ll look great once they arrive. Since I spend so much time at home, I think it’s a good idea to invest my money in it. We’ll see once everything settles down. I didn’t go to Missoula today even though I wanted to. I might go tomorrow if I get this couch I found there. The seller is yet to reply to me, so I hope it’s not too late.

Yesterday was a weird day. I still feel the same, but I guess I’m accustomed to feeling that way that I have no reason to change my feelings. My life sucks sometimes, but it’s the only one I got so I have to suck it up and be a man. But I wasn’t wrong when I said a lot of these entries are feeling pointless. It’s summer; I want to relax.