Time to try my luck at sleep typing again.

I am relieved that Christmas has finally passed. I’ve never been a New Year’s type of guy, but this year I feel like it will be my thing. I don’t have any New Year’s Eve plans, but I think I’ll look to make it a memorable one,  which means it will almost certainly end up forgettable and bland. I almost committed a stupid act and said it had been years since I had a memorable New Year’s Eve, but then I remember that last year was quite memorable, for almost all the wrong reasons. Funny to think about, because the actual Eve part of the whole affair was pretty darn good.

That makes it especially sad to think about because that was the last time spent before the end; a small allotment of hours later and things between me and her ended.  A few moments beyond that ending point and those were the last real words we exchange with each other; the last time I saw her; the last interactions and the last time I was allowed to think of her as a person who is actually alive and exists.  Speaking of which, I tried to do that recently and was reminded of the non-existence of that person as a (personal) reality.  That is all I should say about that here. I guess I couldn’t find real closure the proper way, or rather, the way I needed it. Instead, I am finding it the way my hand is forced to play.  Maybe I’m not at complete closure, and the honest question must be asked– will I ever be there (do -we- ever get there?)? Who knows, but for now, I am closed enough;  I’m beyond it enough to keep walking the hills and not look back to see where we split paths. That person is not the same person for me, and maybe never in the enitrety of either of our lives will never be that same person that I knew ever again. I am finally letting myself accept that, or perhaps I am forcing myself to accept it. Either way, that acceptance was the last thing I’ve been holding on to. I guess my fingers are cramped, my hands are cold and blistered and I use the last of their energy to let go. That’s sad, it upsets me and has also angered me, but it is what it is. I’m ready to fully move on. I am packed, I am moving. I’ve gone. Who is coming with?

The gist of everything I feel is similar to this. This is the first time in months that I have encountered any real degree of uncertainty. I lad out a basic road map; the next few miles of my life until the year was out. In August I took my first real steps toward the completion of that roadmap. In my head it was all so easy and quick. What is a few months to me? Months of sacrifice, yes, but only months. Now that I sit on the other side of the scale I wonder how I ever got through.

As I started saying: I am glad that Christmas is finally over because now I can finally start to find out where the ground beneath my feet will solidify. Everything is about to change, and some of those changes won’t be what I had planned on, which means I have no idea what any of those things will be. Likewise, the holiday season is so abnormal in regard to schedules, the people who are around and the overall flow of life that I can’t make any progress on developing this new life. I just want a shot at that, but as I get older, I find I am increasingly impatient. I don’t like to be kept waiting, but, for these few weeks, it is what I am stuck doing.

For now, I have to stay stuck and I find I can only look back and reflect. Looking forward is tough, but then again, I haven’t done enough reflecting. I pretty much stopped in August. Since then, my life finally traveled some distance and now I need to.

I remember getting out of my relationship and being certain that I was looking at least at a good two years before even considering another relationship. Considering. The entire concept of a girl having significant meaning in my life beyond friendship or, uh, recreational friendship.. was outrageous. Here I am today and I feel that if I wanted to let myself, I could at least handle it– at least. A year ago I didn’t believe in what most people call love. I could at least accept it now. That’s pretty big, right?For all I know I could flourish again.

A year ago I knew I had to get out of here. I had packed my bags mentally and emotionally, merely lacking the physical luggage, yet here I am. First, in a position where I can’t get out because of other reasons beyond my control (they call that timing), and second, finding myself a lot more rooted than I ever considered possible (yet a few years ago the roots were just as firmly entrenched in the ground). Just considering things like this makes it so easy to feel uncertain, because to reiterate, one measly year ago, things I felt so certain about– things I had thought about for  more time than is healthy and truly understood are now being thrown out the window like baseballs rapidly flowing out of a malfunctioning batting cage machine. In that light, I hope I’m not breaking all of my friends windows from dealing with the mess that I usually am.

I dread to think about the next week when I lose my best friend again as he exits his awkward, uncertain, viscous state of limbo he is caught in as he finally starts the next stage in his life. I have gotten so used to having him around that I forgot that I’ll have to adjust, maybe even relearn part of living after he leaves, yet that time has already arrived. That friend carousel is weird. I think I should write about it exclusively, it is quite fascinating though somber to think about how many revolutions have completed all in the course of a year.

What it all seems to boil down to is… I don’t like uncertainty. It isn’t that I am risk averse, because it can sound that way, but one of the things I hate more than anything is uncertainty, yet I am going to wake up in a few hours and not have any clue how my day will transpire. I only know I will go to work, a job of which I don’t know how much longer I will have before the next opportunity finds me, and after an undetermined amount of time, will finish work for the day and go home. From there, I have no clue what I will do, who I might see, who I might interact with at any point in the day. I know things I want to do. I know people I’d hope to interact with or see, but I don’t know if they will, yet at the same time, I’m not going to make any effort on my own for any of these thing outside of maybe going to see a movie. I will probably enjoy that time by myself. I don’t think I’d have any problem with that tomorrow. I admit, I feel a lot of weird things that I don’t quite understand at this period in time, and because of this, I just kind of feel like living like a jellyfish– at least until 2012 rolls in.

Maybe I feel it is all I can do– in anything right now. Feel free to remind me to man the sails if it gets too bad.


NOTE: So I tried to right this in my bed with my eyes closed. I got misaligned on the keys when I actually started writing. When I woke up this morning and was going to start revising/rewriting my initial draft, I discovered what I had gotten down– a likely improvement from whatever I probably wrote (though I plan on revising this draft of what this actually is supposed to be)

ok. Laying in bed again trying to write I am too tired to try anything elsem but need to get things written, and I don’t have time usually. This is compromise. I have a lot of thoughts to organizw, but I don’t think I want to go that deep, that tangible right now. I apologize in advance, because what likely will result won’t result in prosem but I wouldn’t call it anything else.. just streams of consciousness, streams of feeling and streams of imagination. Nothing more.


I slesyd likrf fudk, in gsvy, yhsy esd hid (vhsnr I yo hid) gsbotiyr yimr og fsu.


Yhr yeo dsy.

Syop s hill yhsy trlsyibr yo rvrtyhing rldr stounfLookrf foen on yhr trdy og yhr Rstyh.

Iy esd s htsu monyh, vhillu, einfy snf domryimrd rbrn volf.

Iy esd slesyd do wuiry ouydifr.

Yhry voulf hsbr brrn yhr lsdy yeo proplr slibr

Snf got yhsy, frdpiyr snuyinh rldr

Yhry ertr sll yhry hsf.


Dhr dsy in yhr bsvystf og sn sbsnfonrf builfinh

Noe yhrit houdr

Snf trsf.

Rbrn ig iy esd volf ouydifr, yhry dsy ouydifr

Vlodr yohryhrt, dhstinh s blsnkry snf rsvh oyhrt’d hrsy.

Yhouhh ogyrn noy dsuinh s eotf

Yhry dhstrf vompsnu.

Momrnyd og yimr lspdrf likr lonh vtoddgsfrd. Yimr hsf no mrsninh

Iy mrtrlu esd s vonyinuum on ehivh yhry ytsbrlrf

Domryimrd hr eoulf plsu on hid huiyst, ysppinh ouy thyyhmd

snf Gillinh ouy yhr volotd bryerrn yhr htsu

snf Linrd og dilrnvr snf ytsnwuiliyu

Nsyutr btouhy.

S mutmut og mrofy eoulf hrnylu gloe ouy og hid mouyh, judy unfrt yhr

Vtsvklr og s butninh vsmpgitr

Sd ig iy ertr s fidysny boivr og trsliyu

Vsllinh uou yo eskr gtom yout ftrsmd.

Dhr trsf snf dhr lidyrnrf, rbrn ig dhr fifn’y infivsyr

Hr plsyrf snf hr sfmitrf rbrn ig hr voulfn’y rcptrdd iy.

Ehrn fudk eoulf spptosvh snf ytsndgotm yhr dku inyo nihhy

Yhry eoulf puy yhrit brlonhinhd up;

Dhr voulf vutl up vlodr yo hid erlvominh rmbtsvr

Fip hrt hrsf onyo hid vhrdy sd

Hr eoulf trrl hrt in eiyh hid stmd,

Plsvinh hid vhin on hrt hrsf rnjoying hrt lonh vutlu hsit.

Yhid vlodrnrdd trminfrf rsvh og yhrm yhsy, ehilr rvrtuyhinh rldr esd honr

Yhry dyill hsf rsvh oyhrt.

Msybr iy esdn’y ehsy snuonr eoulf vsll lobr

Msybr iy esdn’y muvh motr yhsn ehsy iy esd,

buy got momrnyd hyry’f lsy yhrtr, trvlinrf, dystinh inyo dpsvr

knoeinh yhsy yhry ertr vomgotysnlr eiyh rsvh oyhrt

unyil yhry ftigyrf ogg inyo yhr unvondvioudnrdd og yhr nihhy dku snf yhr hrsbrnd sbobr.

Iy msy noy hsbr brrn lobr,

Iy msu noy hsbr bbrrn muvh

nuy iy es prtgrvy.o