I was awakened as always by my radio alarm clock. This morning was unusual, however, in that just as it clicked on, playing was the intro to a song I haven't heard in a few years: Train's "Drops of Jupiter". Instantly one of my favorites when I first heard the song, it was nice to be listening it again. It's one thing to download an mp3, but when you're listening to the radio, it's another thing entirely to know that hundreds, maybe thousands, of people are sharing the experience with you. Anyways, I had forgotten how potent the words had originally been to me, and especially in light of the current situation, how applicable they now are.

That's what I need. I need a soul vacation. I need to trace my way through the constellation. I need to get drops of Jupiter in my hair. I need to dance along the light of day. I need a stay on the moon. Most of all, I need to find that the idea of heaven that I've formed in my imagination is far overrated.

The song is about somebody going out and growing up. You can't just go "Poof!, I'm a mature adult now." Considering that I'm 26 and still as childish as a teenager, I've come to the conclusion that the largest portion of maturity (and the wisdom that accompanies) consists of life experience. The significant other in the song needed those experiences to grow as a human, or otherwise stagnate in a swamp of ignorance of the world, where innocense and childlike wonder slowly decay to uncertainty and feeling lost.

I am ignorant of this world. I am uncertain and I feel so hopelessly lost. And when I am on my own, tentatively planned to happen this winter, hopefully I'll get my chance to sail through the galaxy.