So why am I writing again after posting I was done? Seriously, what is wrong with me?
These are probably questions no one will ever be able to answer and I really hope that no one's concerned enough to pursue their resolution. Yet here I am and perhaps there is a you out there reading this. If not, life goes on and none's the pity.
Don't worry, there's nothing appearing below that will change the shape of the universe or mold your aesthetic into something new. It's just more meandering and, I hope, blather without morose carping. If any carp manifest, obviously I should not be writing at all.
The months since June have been interesting. Friends and heroes have died, time has marched on unrelentingly and I am going more invisible with each passing moment. These are all just symptoms of living. With all of it, some clarity has come. Not much, but some.
I doubt it will surprise anyone who's read any of these posts that the one thing of which I've become keenly aware is my own sadness. Not that huge self-esteem crushing, paradigm shifting stuff, but much smaller yet fiercely tenacious sorrow. Some of it is due to what I see in the world around me (see any of the previous posts for examples), but much of it is due to the fact that what was once a freakishly connected life is now floating through the ether all but completely untethered.
Side note: this will not be kvetching nor will it be laying blame. Really.
One of the side effects of living is, if one's lucky or focused, having a life. This means gaining a certain momentum and having some things sort of spin free of one's metaphoric/metaphysical gravitational field. If the life is having a family and/or having a career, it means that some of what's thrown out of orbit is individuals.
That is some powerfully awkward grammar, but I think (hope) you get what I meant.
My trajectory was very public for a long time and it was glorious. But then things changed dramatically and little has been the same since. This is no one's fault but circumstances changed and I have done what I could to keep pace with things.
I have failed.
People have told me that my solitude and isolation are easily remedied and they are right to a degree, but there is much that people can't, won't or don't see. First, no one is me so no one truly has my perspective. The facts are easy to review, but without having my mind and life experience that's like equating data with wisdom. Fallacious. Given my circumstances and how they changed, many people would respond differently. But this is the point: I'm me and no one else.
I do not blame Mother Nature for weather, nor do I hold people with different views than mine in contempt. I sometimes wonder why it is that few attempt to see another's perspective but I doubt I'll ever understand that. Again, this is life.
But the events that redirected the trajectory of my life had a powerful impact on me as a person. I became more closed off and jumped less frequently into things head first. This was both a result of fear and a desire for self-preservation. I don't expect anyone to understand that, including those who have been through similar things, but what's happened to me since has also sealed my decision to stay on this path at least for now.
It isn't that I don't want to take chances, but I am tired of being hurt and abandoned without explanation. I think these are things most can grasp. Please if you're reading this and riled because of what I've written, don't tell me to buck up or pull myself up by the bootstraps. I have done this. It's why I'm alive. But over the last decade or a little more, it's become clear that I am just not that twenty-first century. This is not bad, it's just a matter of having an outlook that doesn't line up with most of those around me.
Part of that is a result of getting older, but it's also due to that same foolishness of me being me. You see, my views have never made a lot of sense to those around me. They're romantic and I've traditionally held myself to a fairly high ethical standard. I don't expect the same from others, but I have hoped that the people who choose to be in my life will accept these things about me and not make fun of me for them... too much or too often.
If I haven't written before about my realization about quality of life, maybe I'll make that a future installment. And if I have written about it then I'll try not to repeat myself. But what it all boils down to -- for me and probably for me alone -- is that it makes more sense to be away from the world for a number of reasons. I get to deal with less random hostility. I'm much less caught up in drama that has nothing to do with me. And I get to be the architect of my life, free of the concerns of dragging anyone else along for the ride.
I am still not opposed to a relationship. And if one comes along that proves substantial, obviously I will amend the way I live now. But I stopped holding out hope for one and making the rest of my life contingent upon that possibility some time ago. I will always love women. Always. Now I just understand that I've gone into so many relationships with ridiculous expectations that there's no way any of them could have worked out. Yes, I absolutely own that. Do I wish any of them could have worked out? Hell yes! But the person I was then made it unlikely at the very best. I salute anyone who tried being with me.
As I sit here, I realize I could write much, much more. But considering I hadn't intended to post even this much, maybe I'll just post again.
Maybe not.
Either way, have a great weekend and take care of yourself!
