When walking through a gravesite, you forget that several feet under lies the body of a person you may or may not know.

I have a surname and plot number...

This could have been my family.

Maybe it is.
Maybe it was.

I don't feel worthy enough to sit in the grass before the tombstones.

To place my hands on the stones... they're so cold.

I've read the inscriptions.

Never forgotten by wife and son.
Faithful unto death, may he rest in peace.
A soldier of the great war.
Known unto God

Known unto God

Known unto God.

I have a surname and a plot number written in roman numerals, somebody tell me where I can find the plot under the number 30.

I ran through the gravesite only to find 29.

And I ran out of time.

So tell me where I can find him.

After all... an unknown family wrapped in a common surname is all I really know.

If there are any at all...

I wrote the date at the top of the page.

And nothing else.

I flew into this day from the second flight and stayed up the entire day.

And yet...

I wrote nothing.

So about an hour or so to go and not a moment of actual sleep to be had.

Surprising that I'm actually still very much awake and living as much as I am. So I guess it's just something about the flights that keep me forever awake. So now that the traveling is almost over, what am I supposed to do now?

Other than more waiting for the adventure that is the next 8 days. And sure, 1 hour isn't a long time on any given normal day. But this is a plane to Paris.

And time seems to pass slower on any plane. So I guess I'm just waiting out the next hour for now. Not much, but enough to drag out the rest of this flight.

Ugh. I do not like waiting. But what else is there to do? I guess there's only so much to do from here. So for right now, I'll get back to the writing when I'm in Paris.

Only because I'm tired of writing the same phrases page after page.

There's only so much I can write on this plane.

Usually, I'm pretty impatient about well... anything. Like this trip for example. I kind of wish we were already there. But at the same time, I'm not too eager to rush through today. Making this experience last as long as possible.

Getting as much out of it as I can. Living like to the fullest sort of thing. And yet, this plane ride is becoming sort of draining. But plane rides are usually like that. Not much to be done about that.

So for right now, I'll enjoy some time to lat back and try to relax. More air time above the ocean.

There's really nothing more to be done about the time left on this flight. And writing seem like the best time killer I've got. But it's not that I'm bored of writing. It's just that I'd rather be singing or playing my uke.

I could still be writing... But I'd be creating a song or poem or something new.

Something good. (So like I don't know, the bachelor?)

Something... (Yep. Definitely the bachelor.)

But I have to continue to wait out the flight. But again, I'm not really complaining.

I have the whole trip ahead of me.

Seeing as we still have about 4-ish hours to go, I can only wonder what I can do in that time. 4 hours is enough time to watch a few good musicals. But I don't seem to have access to those at the moment.

So my best options are to write, sleep, or talk. But the latter doesn't seem all that successful at the moment. (The bachelor is definitely a distraction.)

So that's a bit nerve racking, but I'm managing.

Other than that, music therapy is seeming like a really good thing. And yet, I don't feel all that different going to Paris. I mean, things could have turned out differently for different reasons.

And that's just listing tons of possibilities taking everything into account. And sure, thing could've played out differently but this is what I've got. And honestly, I'm not complaining. I'm pretty okay with where I am and where I'm going.

I mean, I'm on my way to Paris. So why would I even think of being the one to complain?

This is gonna be a once in a lifetime thing. So taking everything into account, I should just enjoy it right?

I mean, that works for me.

To Paris!

In like 4 hours...

I can wait.

So, I guess I'll start by saying that I have not done much to accomplish my goal of staying awake. I mean, usually I can just will power my way through it. But that doesn't always work. And I don't expect it to.

Second thing, I have no idea how to combat my sleep patterns. I mean it's sort of unpredictable and inconsistent. So maybe I will sleep just because. Not because I want to, but because I can.

And my current situation is sort of battling that decision of "sleep of no sleep".

Anyways...

It's a process that I'd rather not go through at the moment. So the sleep aside, I think that excitement of getting to Paris is nothing short of overwhelming.

but the curiosity of what it's going to be like is a weird thrill. Wondering what it'll be like to live there for a week. I'm still sort of nervous about it all and I'm still getting used to the though of it all.

So I guess I won't have much more to say until we actually get there. And I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am to get there.

My average for staying awake can lie anywhere from 12 - 3 in the morning. Only earlier on a tiring day, or when I have nothing better to do. It can be a struggle depending on the day. Some days it's just not enough to put everything down and call it a day.

So on those days, I stay awake for as long as I possibly can. And most days I don't win the war between myself and sleep. But I shut down the will to try after a few hours.

But I try.

Only so often do I actually succeed in abandoning my sleep for a day. But then the morning comes and I once again, become a groggy, tired, semi - functioning human being.

So...

Now what?

Well, I'm left with about 2 option: Sleep and don't sleep. One definitely seems more appealing then the other. Only because I'm willing to accept a challenge. Like staying up for the next 24 hours. But, we'll see how that works out.

It's gonna be some day.
Or something like that.

~April 6th, 2017~

I can only imagine what France is gonna be like. But the curiosity is definitely there. We leave one day, and fly into the next. And I would consider this some weird form of time travel.

Hours behind on some flights, hours ahead on the next. What a day, and it's not even over yet. But here I am, close to high haven once again. And nothing more to be done except wait.

But that's not exactly a bad thing. I can be patient for awhile. I can manage that.

At least for now.

So I'm not entirely sure when this flight crosses over into tomorrow. But I mean, is that really worth sleeping through?

Maybe, maybe not.

But I'll definitely attempt to pull off the world's worst "all nighter". It's worth a shot right? I mean, it's something to do.

So this flight may be the weirdest crossover between days. But that's okay with me. Only now, can I really understand the influence of time and flight and varying amounts of sleep.

Speaking of...

~April 6th, 2017~

Dear Yesterday,

Right now the panic is setting in to your body like the third wave of infection we didn't write poetry about. And let me tell you, the anxiety and stress with everything will subside throughout the flight.

Not a normal feeling of excitement or anything , but you feel the joy eventually. But for now, take my advice and relax a bit. Don't worry too much about what will happen once you get there.

Leave life in it's upside-down, unpredictable state. Give up some control.

I mean, I've forgotten what it's like to be above clouds. It seems so close to high haven and yet...

Still a long drop down.

And sure, I'm not really scared of falling from here. Just my thanatophobic tendencies. But in all honesty, I think I'm gonna be more scared of the people on this trip then the actual trip.

Only because of things like first impressions and my personal friend group staying together.

I can only hope that nothing goes wrong for us. And honestly, probably nothing will.

Optimism right?

~April 12th, 2017~

Some time between 8:00pm and 9:00pm in the street of Paris...

Imagine walking down the street with the best strawberry yogurt ice cream in the world. Seeing the street of starving artists in all different forms, like that one scene from a movie you saw years ago.

Seeing freehand artists drawing the faces of complete strangers, and the suddenly hearing music.

Hearing a complete strangers singing over classical guitar and not knowing if they were singing in english of french.

But I don't really care. Music has been and always will be a universal language.

So what more can you do about a starving artist?

Well there's  only so much you can do for a guy playing classical guitar in the middle of Paris.

So about 3 songs and €10 later, this artist's voice rings through the empty street. And somehow I become the starving artist, playing this guitar that doesn't belong to me.

And yet I play out like nobody is listening in.

Applause comes... and it goes...

I played one song to look up, and one song from here. All the while feeling the air pass through this street. The only thing left to do was pick up a name and a sappy french poem.

I shake his hand and come away from the street with a major music high. (Pun intended)

And I wasn't the only one on Cloud 9, the feeling shared by yet another music nerd.

And as we roam the streets of Paris singing the same lyrics from "La La Land", we feel complete for now.

And in  that moment...

I lived.

And there's nothing more I can really say other than...

How did we get here?