what have i been doing with myself since the last post? i was in love. madly, deeply in love. and with an amazing older woman. now, you're probably thinking, as i would, that if i were truly in love would i not have written? is that not what writers, especially great writers do? yes, yes it is. i was writing, just not here. i apologize if anyone was actually looking forward to my ramblings... but i think i know who you are, and if you want a rant you can just call me. so, what was i writing? a comedic novel about time travel, mostly, but dabbled in some screenwriting as well. my first minor accomplishment, one that i feel a strong personal sense of pride for, was a complete twenty-two minute episode of south park, which i wrote within a week, honoring matt stone & trey parker's actual regimen. perhaps i will share it on here, somehow.
but what about the love? it came about quite surprisingly, and took me longer to accept it's full power than i hoped. my uncertainty and timid approach left the level of my commitment seemingly indifferent, and my passion felt tepid to the one i love. you can probably see where this is going... i was so worried my emotions and romanticism were too immature to justify her love for me, that i overcompensated and shutdown almost completely. of course once i realized this, i went into a knee-jerk reaction and only made things worse. i became consumed by my faults, which in turn heightened my compulsion to nitpick other people's faults. this has happened before, though this time felt much worse. whether this was because of the incredibly beautiful woman, or the opportunity for inspiring personal evolution, i cannot say for certain... though i' going to go out on a limb, and say it was probably both and more. the possibilities presented by such a wonderful relationship were almost unbelievable, which in hindsight is a hell of a lot less gut-wrenching than said relationship and it's possibilities being unattainable. the more you know... my word, she was beautiful. inside and out.
and now i am home, alone except for a furry, four-legged little monster who follows me around the apartment like a remora. not that i don't love it. i sit in a lone, old rocking chair that the monster has inflicted significant damage upon, it's left arm has come loose and basically needs to be held in place. flanked by two completely different end tables, one holding the very computer with which i type, and the other various smoking paraphernalia, remotes and dual beverage containers. the only areas of the suite i have totally moved into feature my entertainment (tv, dvds, cds, et al), my grooming and hygiene (toiletries, shower accessories, et al), and my resting chamber (bed, clothing, et al). my kitchenware is a mess, and i have no other furniture to speak of, thus most of the floor is occupied by boxes for storage, or laundry i have amassed for weeks (since leaving my sorely missed, in-suite machines). i have reverted to total bachelorhood with relative ease, and this unsettles me slightly.
next comes formal employment, starting tomorrow at a low paying, low level day job, one i have worked several times previous. i hope to find something more compensating, if not stimulating. i see bingo callers make decent coin, for what i would assume is quite a simple task. i had hoped to apprentice as a medical marijuana grower, but that seems to have fallen through. perhaps i was too articulate in my application. the trouble is, all of this feels inconsequential without the love and it's possibilities, though for certain i am not the first to experience such remorse. we live on... or we try at least. even still, i recognize (with sincere concern) that i am no longer running, and i am beginning to realize (with great fear) that soon i may reach a point where i am unable to crawl. this is the time, so the cult classic adage goes, that i am to find someone to carry me, as i would for them... but (as feared) i can see no one who might graciously, and with my utmost gratitude, assume such a role. this, sadly, is what i have truly accomplished over the past three years of my life, but if i am to keep going i must fully accept the burden of carrying myself for many years to come. no taking turns, no rotation, no cycle. just me and whatever progress i can muster. evolvement as a singularity... precisely the concept i hope to diffuse (or perhaps dilute) within the mass stream of consciousness. how hypocritical and poignant, yet perfectly fitting.
so this is where i am. on an island. on a rock. they say no man is either, and i desperately hope they're right. the quaint family surrounding keeps me in something of a formation, like an archipelago. i must direct my drift with purpose and meaning, or i shall be lost to the sea. some thing's change, but most just stays the same... perhaps that's not cyclical, perhaps that's just growth. and growth, not change, is what's really important, in most cases. change is chaotic, and should only be utilized when necessary. growth is progress, education, and understanding. alright self, time to grow.
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