The Cold Death of the Social Universe

I never envisioned turning 31 and being alone. Thirty, as minuscule as it is, was always enough of an abstraction that it just seemed like an age where many monumental life events already occurred. An age with checkboxes ticked for something approximating marriage or at least being with who I’d probably marry, maybe children already in the mix.

Instead, I’m practically 31 and I fluctuate from being as far away from any of those things as ever to a percent of a single percent away from any of those things — and let’s be honest, it’s usually closer to the children part given it’s a lot harder to accidentally find your way into a marriage through a single bad decision or simple bad luck.

I’ve been in a more contemplative state than I have been in years lately. Perhaps it’s my own temporality catching up to me and scaring me out of my own skin like if you took the movie Scream and and replaced the murderous rampage element of it with an existential carnage that mocked all your time spent without establishing any sort of permanent mark.

I’m not lonely, or rather, I’d rate my own tolerance to loneliness and complete independence higher than most — so being in a state that would leave most lonely reads more to me like “just chillin”.

I’m also not experiencing in an existential crisis in the sense that the entire atomic structure of the universe I thought I resided in is decaying at such a rapid rate that absolute madness might take me to the desert crawling on all fours cawing and mooing until I’m neither seen nor heard from again. At least, that’s how I imagine the average existential dread feels like to most.

I’m not sad or depressed. I’ve done that plenty of times. This last year easily ranks among top 3 in my life thus experienced. And from an isolated metric of satisfaction and well-being; also high.

But I am not impervious to loneliness. I am not invulnerable to other existential crises. And I have no illusions of my proximity from feeling down versus feeling good being even as far as a day trip away. It’s more like a 5 minute bike ride in the wrong direction of thought or events.

I’ve thought tirelessly about one of the most insurmountable factors which places me at razor’s edge width between billowing catastrophe and relative nirvana.

AS you get older, especially if you retain a high level of independence, you experience what I am calling The Cold Death of Your Social Universe.

One reason why I hadn’t yet worked these thoughts out into writing is because the terminology I’m borrowing from is a little bit confusing. Among the currently theories considered most probable, physicists and cosmologists have several which postulate how the universe might end.

The Heat Death or Big Freeze, the Big Rip, and the Cold Death (which I understand to be different than the Heat Death) are all similar enough in that I am kind of borrowing ideas from them quite liberally into my thoughts on a social life through your twenties, into your thirties, and through the rest of your life.

Here’s how I’ve been experiencing it:

Just like the universe continues to expand and likely accelerating expansion, so does my social life.

Friends couple up. They get married. They start families. Their own little solar systems form and they slip a little further away from your social cosmos.

Other friends move away. Some to other states, some to other countries, and even some just 20 minutes further away or closer. And that same physical space parallels the mutual immediacy to our lives.

Meanwhile, my own little system of planets, satellites, and stars (friends, love interests, family, hobbies, jobs) fluctuate into slightly newer orbits. And drift into their own pocket of space.

These social approximations re-calibrate themselves over and over. Day after day, week by week, and years piling over years.

As we all float further and further out, the fabric of energy and memories that makes up the interpersonal bond might still be there — at least within the dimension of time. However, the transfer of social energy within my relationships suffers from social distance. ‘Leaving where we left off’ stays easy and near-immediate as ever, and some have enough transfer of balance from order to disorder that we might be lucky to get enough time hanging out to recapture that feeling of how things used to be.

Simply getting together takes more of the energy and heat transfer. When we do, it takes a bit more just to feel that same old comfort than it did when we went to school everyday or shared a roof or job or city or socio-familial dynamics.

Nothing can be the same in an ever expanding, ever changing social universe. And nothing will be.

These effects compound themselves based on levels of introversion and extroversion; or maybe we could measure it in outgoing-ness versus reserved…-ness. The more outgoing are like a huge star or imposing planet like Jupiter, where the shy-er of us might even register as something that might not even be its own planet like poor old Pluto.

Unlike the universe, we don’t live long enough to expand far enough away that all functional heat and light leaves entirely, but the effects can feel the same at times.

For the more socially energized, keeping their social solar system vibrant, bustling, and filled with satellites and planets is second nature.

For some like myself who have a social side, but are more prone to alone time — I sometimes look at my own social life like I imagine the night sky over the course of a Cold Death or Big Rip of the universe.

When I was in more forced social stages of life, it was like those pictures of the night sky in the Mojave desert; inconceivably colorful, bright and speckled like a giant paintbrush and speckled the black canvas above. Most of all, lined with the distant strokes of the Milky Way, signifying the promise of something more out there.

Today, I might sit down in an open field of my own thoughts at night and gaze up at the landscape of my social cosmos and it’s just a lot darker.

There are still plenty of specks of light twinkling, but it feels like less and less each year. The intensity they glow slowly fades when I compare memories distant and memories present. And by some perceptual sense that our human bodies don’t have that our feelings do, it’s colder.

I sit on my rock and watch it all recede and take the warmth that the idea of ‘with’ brings. And then I see I haven’t done much to the place in my own neighborhood.

When I transit to the solar systems of my friends and loved ones who have built something different with theirs; families or still booming social lives, I feel good. Then I make the long, solitary trip back by myself and it all sets in.

Even for someone more extroverted, the amount of energy to maintain it all grows until. And we all expand away. The human life cycle is fortunately different enough in that it allows us phases to build out in our observable social universe at different points in time. That’s family, if nothing else. However, there is definitely a time in between in which is feels like the expansion just carries on to infinity.

For moments, the mind catches hold of that and convinces you of a future of heat-less black. And for a sleepless night you might see the Cold Death of the Social Universe.

The Brutality of Words, thoughts on respect included

Words matter. I know this more than pretty much anyone. Probably my ugliest side is the aspect of James who, in a rush of hurt or anger or disrespect or flood of any negative energy, brandishes words like a weapon.

I’ve worked on it and really struggled, but in spite of all improvement, I still find myself at points where I use the power of words in unholy ways. I cleave, gore, batter, bludgeon, incense, and mutilate with words. I panic. I freak out. I seek out the nearest people in the moment and I do these awful things.

Most of my best friends likely wear sick scars from when they’ve been caught in the blender. It’s a deep regret I have to carry every day. The thing about the things I… we say is that they live with us for our entire lives. I know this because when I lash out, it’s the dark power I’m seeking to wield. At the end of it all, being sorry is never enough because I can’t simply erase the things I said in a moment of frailty.

At this point, I feel hardly apologetic when my ugliness comes out because it feels so inadequate. As I told a recent victim of my inner monster: if someone said those things to me, I wouldn’t want anything to do with them, too.

I personally don’t fret over it a whole lot. I used to spend entire days suffocating in my own anxiety as if the walls were painted in blood spelling out, “what have I done?!”

I guess I just have to accept my flaws, slowly improving upon my own scars on time just as I am at the mercy of the grace of those around me. Very very rarely, the damage murders a friendship, in a couple of cases, the repeated scarring has left a friendship a crippled, almost lifeless shell (thinking of a very specific one here), but most of the time, it’s just left me in a position where I swallow the bitter pill of my own flaws along with the healing medicine of others’ grace.

Thanks to all those who, for some crazy reason, keep coming back. And deeper thanks for those who understand where I am coming from amid the turbulent vortex violent debris that forms in the center of times I am hurt.

Rodney Dangerfield and Aretha Franklin

With that out of the way, I’d also like to touch on respect a bit and why it’s such a huge deal for me.

I don’t think a lot of people who know me realize just how prominent it is to my psychological plumbing.

The first problem is that I believe a lot of beefs we have with people and even from a macroscopic populace level would merely vanished if we actually respected people. Just a baseline level of respect.

Respect is a lot like an instinctual, primitive ancestor to love. You don’t have to care fondly about someone to respect them. You don’t have to suck up to them and tell them they’re great. You don’t even really have to be that nice. But when you respect someone, you just give them their due.

I’ve got some deep rooted problems, personally, because I’ve rarely felt respected. The difference between my electron-close friends and everyone else is that I’ve always felt deeply respected by them.

Part of it is one of those baggage-James-has-carried-since-childhood things that I never realized needed to be worked out until much later in life, and another part of it is the side effect of a large set of social patterns that get established.

For example, one of these is what I call The Court Jester Pattern.

The Court Jester Pattern and His Ilk

One of the downsides of being good at being self-deprecating is that boundaries never get established.

It’s a good shtick.

If you’re good at making fun of yourself, you can almost always easily amuse others. If you’re better than just good, they’ll feel comfortable joining in and poking, too.

That’s fine, I love making fun of myself, for the most part. It’s one of the few ways I can easily connect with people on a surface level. Problems start to arise when those less familiar get involved, though.

It’s funny because often times when I feel disrespected by people I expect to respect me — because they know me — it’s because they just never took a moment to step back and give me a nugget of respect in a public setting. It’s not so much a direct feeling of being dissed, as much as it is a failure to take the responsibility to set precedent.

This is often because of the Court Jester Pattern. Basically, in a group setting, I do the whole Court Jester look at this bumbling fool ha ha ha! thing. We have a good time, but specific instances arise where I actually want to make a point, or I want to at least mildly refute something that we joked about in regards to me. Because I am already acting as a sort of Circus Clown figure, naturally everyone keeps plodding along.

As soon as I try to stop the pattern, I get further invalidated. Not just that, but the fact that I want to make a serious point or take a second to stand up for myself earns me badges such as, “you need to quit being so paranoid,” and, “I don’t really understand what you’re talking about so who cares?” — among many others.

At this point in the Court Jester Pattern, I’m labeled the one who is suddenly taking things way too seriously. But sometimes a guy just wants to make an aside. Oftentimes in the torrent of joking we can extract clouds of knowledge.

At this point, the pattern locks in and cycles through. Because this is a social setting, I am usually among a person or two who knows me really well; someone who, one on one, shows me respect and is familiar with the complex dimensions that reside beyond my public persona. We can assume that most of the others really only know me at a surface level.

When Patterns Meltdown

Because the pattern is recursive, it builds on itself. The Court Jester gradually gets frustrated because he knows he is more than just a court jester and wants opportunities to leave that facade. The good friend thinks it is just a good time and everyone giving each other shit because that’s what we do, and because they know the Court Jester is also a bard, a scholar, a knight, and all these other things. The less familiar friend only establishes me as the Court Jester.

In its worst instance, this pattern leads to an eruption when I’ve been set up to be absolutely disrespected, usually by the lesser friend because there was never a precedent that I deserve any respect established. Rather, the precedent was that it’s ok– it’s cool to disrespect me, because that’s just what we all do. It turns from harmless to radioactive quickly.

Beyond that, I feel even more disrespected by the good friend who was part of whichever pack I ran with that night. They never actually directly disrespected me, and at the end of the night, if they do a mental inventory of me they hold me in high esteem, but because I am so disgusted that someone would so blatantly disrespect me, I immediately cycle back to all the times during the Court Jester Pattern that they never or very passively came to bat for my side. Especially given that they know that person well, and I don’t.

Specifically, this happened with a couple of girls most recently. In plain English, it’s not that I wanted to sleep with or try to date or anything like that with the disrespecting girl, but rather the freedom to feel like I’d had the freedom to try if I so felt the inclination. If your respect is shutout from the gate, you never feel that freedom. Instead, you feel trapped by an errant fate like an inmate in a wrongful conviction.

Give me my own chance to screw up if that’s what I want to do. I probably won’t take that chance anyway, but please don’t rob me or anyone of that. That’s messed up.

Instead, the perception of me gets battered down throughout the night and the door is opened for me to simply get discarded as if I were some action figure toy. Respect in a case like this would either be to actually set me up to look somewhat like I am, an accomplished, highly intellectual, physically gifted, creatively talented, and pensive person. Obviously, if these are the things I believe about myself, the honus is on me to show that I am such a person through interactions and time — but if all the seeds of doubt are planted, then the weeds that grow as a result suffocate any chance I have to properly represent myself to that girl, guy, potential friend, enemy, or whatever.

When Respect Bleeds Into Pride

At a certain point, a respect issue doubles as a pride issue. Once pride gets in the mix, it all becomes very hairy, because pride will mess anyone up. If you want to see what I’m talking about just look at Walter White from Season 1 all the way to the series finale. Almost inevitably, respect mutates into pride. Pride possesses us all and turns us into monsters.

I spent most of my life with little self-respect; an inaccurate twisted imp that was a never ending abortion to the virgin potential each of those years brought.

As I’ve gotten a little older, I’ve finally began to recognize that I’m not the shambling mutant, but probably what Kendirck Lamar dubbed the Butterfly. As a side effect of this newfound confidence and self-worth, I not only have to worry about developing it into an unwavering confidence, but warding off the wild demon lurking below; pride.

Here’s the thing, outside of free form social settings, I’m used to everyone around me respecting me. Those I’ve worked with have respected me because I have a sharp mind, work hard and at least try to be selfless. In sports, I’ve earned and maintained the respect of others athletically hundreds and hundreds of times. My longest, closest friends have always held me in this absurdly high regard that feels like a borderline reverence; I like to think is mutual.

The point is, in most cases I am used to be surrounded by people I know have a lot of regard for me. I’ve always felt that if I were the type who wanted to lead, I tend to earn enough universal respect that I could be a leader (of course, I’m too lazy and don’t like the spotlight, so I try to avoid being put in that kind of position).

The first flaw is that I am simply used to being surrounded by people I feel respect me. When I get out of that setting, it jars me. It messed with my head. If only these people knew who I was, if they could really see me, they’d know how wrong they are.

The second weakness is a total absence of structural integrity, because as soon as the first flaw brushes so lightly against me, it becomes a matter of pride.

That’s frankly how I end up feeling like most people don’t respect me. Not socially. Not when I haven’t been in a position where I can clearly earn it. And that’s how patterns such as the Court Jester emerge.

That’s how words become terrible weapons. True, I wish my friends would stick up for me some and give me more of a chance because we all know that I have loads of problems going on internally, but I also have trained myself to never count on it and adapted a back against the world positioning.

I guess it just is what it is. There’s part of me that thinks an older me is out there in another time who might say that this is all just youthful folly that you haven’t figured out yet, but I kind of hope not, because in everything I do I want to at least show people respect as much as I want to be respected.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to try and parry pride. Because as it was once wisely said, “Fuck Pride. Pride only hurts, never helps.

What Stays Personal? Thoughts on Personal Blogging

I am an endangered species – a personal blogger

The blog. A web log. In Internet years, these things have become antiquated. When blogs were new, the concept was mostly personal. You didn’t have news entities or people making a living off of the thing, people just wrote about what they wanted and put it out there. I’d wager that most anyone doing such a thing in the early days of blogging never did this with the idea of anyone else really reading it, we just did it because we could, so why not? It was the same principle as building your own website in the 90’s. You probably had nothing of worth to really share or create, or if you did, you didn’t stick with it long enough to get that good at it, but it was something cool to do online, so why not? There’s no better reason to do anything!

Closely associated with the birth of the blog were services like Xanga and Livejournal, which turned into everyone you knew having one. This was kind of an unfortunate time for the Internet. At least with Tumblr, everyone can just post stupid

Xanga - The reason why we all shouldn't share our thoughts and lives with everyone.
Xanga – The reason why we all shouldn’t share our thoughts and lives with everyone.

pictures and quotes, because as soon as most people (kids) start putting down words, it just gets messy. Either way, the public, digital diary — everyone was doing it. It’s something I’m no stranger to. I was effectively doing it with our websites at the time GTAMAC — which was a precursor to SwB Crew, and all early iterations of our SwB Crew websites were as much about us writing about whatever we wanted as they were putting our movies online.

Needless to say, as soon as I discovered you could write these entries without having to manually update .html files and upload them via ftp, I was convinced there was nothing more bitchin than that.

Basically, what I’m getting at is that I’ve been writing a personal blog for a long time. It is part of me. To me, it’d be weird if I didn’t have one. And to this day, I have no expectation of anyone ever reading anything I write and publicly nail to what is effectively the digital town square, but people do. People I know do. People that I write about do, and people I write about don’t. People that I will never see again have been characters in my writings, and people that I have to see everyday have been.

That’s kind of a tough line to walk. If you are reading this, then you likely have read something else I’ve put on here, so you know how personal I like to get. I don’t know why, exactly, but for some reason it is very comforting to me to bare all on here, and when it comes to myself, I try to, but I have to expose other people to do that. There have been dozens of occasions where I’ve hit that PUBLISH button on WordPress right before I’ve gone to sleep, with a moment of hesitation as I wonder to myself — Continue reading “What Stays Personal? Thoughts on Personal Blogging”

Heart Matter, Mind Matter, and the Stuff Left Behind When You Leave – Life is Significant

The Incredible Machine

It’s a Thursday with no plans. It’s raining outside. It’s a little chilly. It’s dreary. It’s been a long week. If I don’t put out something real this time, I doubt I ever will. I’ve got a lot ready to pour out. Spare me just a few paragraphs to get into why I’m here today.

Something that’s always scared me is my lack of middle ground. There is the whimsical fool who floats clumsily like a butterfly just out of the cocoon, and there is the somber, pensive one who slowly processes and feels every single thing at the pace of a thick liquid slowly staining into denim. There really isn’t anything between, barring the neutral, transparent me, who simply is there to exist, and contributes nothing either way. I really am a person of extremes. I have to get used to this.

These two sides both have nothing but admiration for the other, because they have everything their counterpart lacks, and today, the somber one reigns, and today, the somber one is at his best.

I’ve been through a lot of life lately. I think over the weekend alone, I visited the respective zeniths of everything that I can hope for, everything that I imagine to be perfect and complete and right, to the brink of despair, hopelessness, confusion, and continued hauntings of my past. I know that all sounds so dramatic, but it really was a very expansive personal ride in such a condensed amount of time. It’s what happens when you get gunned down by rapid fire surprises. I think I am through that tour through Willy Wonka’s Psychadelic Tunnel, and overall, I’m just so content and happy with it, because after all those years of stagnation, it was ultimate confirmation that I’m alive again; in the figurative sense. I had myself a spoonful of life. What’s not awesome about that?

With that noted, that means my feelings and thoughts are already primed. I’m approaching a bridge right now. I’m leaving my current job early next week, then crossing over to the next endeavor, one which finally brings promise of framing what is becoming the maturation from a pretend adult, to something that will at least resemble an adult, and be doing that whole career and family thing. I feel like everything before now has merely been putting things into place, and when I take my first step on crossing that bridge next week, it sets off a spectacular Rube Goldberg Machine. Then, bam, a few years later once everything is set off, I look up and I’ve reached all I wanted to achieve (or the end result of the things I tried to achieve) over the past few years, and am on to setting up the next pieces for the next phase.

I’m about to kick off the incredible machine and I am all kinds of anxious, nervous, and excited, but that nor all the other emotional priming I’ve been through this week is what has me postulating today.

I Don’t Move On Well

Continue reading “Heart Matter, Mind Matter, and the Stuff Left Behind When You Leave – Life is Significant”

I’m Tired..

I haven’t written a single thing in the vicinity of a month. Most of what I’ve wanted to write has been excessively positive. I feel more like myself than I have in years, seriously, years. Plural. My confidence in all things is starting to beam, and I enjoy everyday.

But then I have a today. Today is that day where something in my body is just kind of off, and whatever it is that makes my brain tick and allows me to feel normal, just isn’t fully there.  This is the first, maybe second time that I’ve had this kind of day in that same time frame (~month). That’s very positive.

But now I’m faced with the choice. Go to sleep right now. Chug about 30 pages of this book I read and go to sleep. Or churn out something as fast as I can and go to sleep– each one of those garnering about 7 hours, which I haven’t had in a while. I like odd number hours of sleep, and 7 is a lot better than 6 (my average). So I am churning.

I am tired. I am just, tired, all the time now. It is like last year around this time, being out in the world again, waking up at around 6, long days of driving 45 minutes here and there, always in traffic, leaving the house at 7, getting home at 11. Naturally, I am tired, but in many other ways I am tired.

I had a few strands of thought fall at my feet today. I’m tired of playing away games– socially. For the past year, maybe two at this point, I’m always in what I’d call a road game with friends. For a lot of them, it is almost always on their turf, or in their comfort zone, or with their primary inner circle of friends, or so on. I don’t have a problem with it, and I often enjoy it, but as a staunch introvert, bejeezles, it sure takes it’s toll on me. After all this time accumulating, I just realized how much it is contributing to my fatigue.

I can think of numerous friends of whom I have only, exclusively seen on their turf, and not but maybe once seen them outside of that. I like balance. I like neutrality a lot. I think neutrality is fair, at least sometimes. I don’t ask people to come onto my turf too much, unless they are used to suiting up in home jerseys in that instance, too. It is taxing, it is kind of alienating, and you can’t really (re)connect with the friend like you’d like to before getting into these other situations.

Now, I realize I don’t consciously think through these things, but under that conscious layer, I am. And even more subtext is that it has led to me being pretty fickle with a lot of people. I realize how many people I’ve chosen to become disinterested with because I never really got to see that person, the best they always seemed to offer me was seeing who they are when they are with the people they want to be with. In that case, I am basically one of those synthetic sweeteners for them; lost in the rest of the mix. Splendid Splenda.

The thing is, I try not to be so fickle, and I try to take what I can get, but maybe I am not being selfish enough, or maybe I am still being too selfish. I know I do plenty of similarly petty things to friends, and I try really hard to be self-aware of it, but…

I’m just so tired.

I’m tired, and I want people to make things easier on me, just for a little while, or at least just occasionally.

Then I can feel tired about other things.

Here’s to the next morning, folks.

a letter

an unpublished, unshared letter written on December 26, 2009 at 3:42 AM. Honestly, doesn’t feel like much has changed in my life even since then..

Marlhazts, brugizzin– ok, so I totally made that one up, but I think we covered about every possible one in the past already so I needed to bend the rules on this one.

This is a hard letter to write. I don’t really know how much I have resolved. I’m in an interior struggle. A self-contained tug-of-war. I also have circled around everything so much that it is hard for me to know which part of this cave network to enter from. Finally, I don’t know what words I will end up with on paper, nor the potential fallout from what is written. I wish I could be fair to you.

First let me say, I love you very much. I know without a doubt that this break has been good for both of us, and that would of course strengthen our relationship so much. On top of this, you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had. You’re my best friend in my life presently, I feel like that is something that bridges even a little further out than just love in the man-woman sense.

Anyway, like I said, I am amidst a massive internal battle right now. I know certain things. I know how strongly I love you and value your friendship. I have an idea how far my life is from where I feel I need it to be, and I think to where God wants it to be. I think I know how long these things can take to rebuild too. I know that I don’t want to break-up. I know that sometimes our wants don’t always align with our needs. I know that timing isn’t always determined by us, no matter how hard we can try. I know how much, down the road, I would love and be so blessed to get the honor of spending the rest of my ife with you. I know and have the idea of a lot of things.

I don’t know many things either. I still don’t know much about this break. I don’t know its dimensions, its boundaries, its terms, its life expectancy. Wow, I don’t really know anything about it except that it is there right now. I’m sure that sucks for you, since if anyone should have an idea on that it should be me. I don’t where I am in my life right now. Life has many different phases and stages. The nature of these varies based on where we are in our lives and how long we have lived. I don’t really know if I am hitting a different phase of my life, though I fear I might be hitting a short detour or bump in the road. I don’t know where I would end up or anything else if this were the case. The most frightening thing to me is that I don’t know if being in a relationship is feasible with the possible course my life might be heading. I don’t know what kind of person that makes me.

Every time I take a step in one direction right now, I am pulled in the other direction by an equal gravitational force. If my left eye looks left, my right eye wants to look right. If I look up, I get ambushed from below. I am confused. I am sad. I am scared. I don’t want to risk losing things, I certainly wouldn’t want to lose you, but I don’t feel like I am the pilot of my life at the moment. I fear that my course will take me away and I may lose what matters most– you.

I mentioned the Odyssey to you at one point. I feel like I’m hitting my Odyssey. I just want to be home at last, but I know full well that such an odyssey is filled with many obstacles, delays, and interesting stops. I lay afloat and lost in a sea of thought and feeling. I look up at the stars and constellations and try and read my feelings, my thoughts and get an idea where this life is taking me from these heavenly signs, but I can’t figure it out. It makes me worry and yet realize that I may stray off and never return back to the home I long for. Yet, I could return back and find nobody left home to welcome me, or maybe I struggle to find my way back for some time, and I make it back just like Odysseus and there are his loved ones, waiting for him. Or maybe I even get guided quickly and safely back home. The point being, these are all very real possibilities. That isn’t fun.

I have days where I really feel that I need to spend a prolonged amount of time on my own, just living for James Curtis– in a way further following this self-fueled break of sorts. Then again, I think that if it is the case, you have to do these things while you’re young and still can. I hate to admit it, but I do have these days where I really feel it weighing heavy on me. Of course, these days are especially awful when I’m overwhelmed with feelings of how much I care for you. It hurts to even say I love you sometimes because I feel like I could end up seeming like a huge con or liar. Furthermore, I just find myself living a paradoxical existence. If I love someone so much, how could this even be a possibility? Yet it is! It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t know how to feel about it. It distresses me, yet I can’t be in denial about the possibility.

What is even worse, I often find myself having to play out this scenario in my head. It is so selfish too. In these scenarios, it is so hard. In these scenarios where I enter deep space, I still know how much I’d want to share our close friendship. Yet, I know that probably wouldn’t be possible. Would it be fair to you? Certainly not; to the highest degree. So in these scenarios I have to assume that possibility out of the question, which makes the thought even worse. Then from there, my head always figures it is a toss-up, because for one, I don’t know where I’m going in deep space and for how long. So do I lose the most special one in my life for good? Do I somehow get her back? If I even got that lucky, could I ever forgive myself– even for, at the least, just potentially gambling this away?

There is no scenario that is fair to you, even the best case. That really sucks. Once again, it  is just another degree that contributes largely to my struggle.

And does it make any sense? No. I have a feeling you may even be reading this and thinking that to yourself. But its real. I’m being tugged in different directions. Heck, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you came to the conclusion that if someone can feel they love you but feel pulled away from that that they aren’t worth loving. I feel villainous for it. I just… can’t help it. I don’t have any answers though.

Here is the thing too, I know that I need to really figure this out, I need to have some solid ground on if I really need to just go live purely for myself for an extended period, or if I can really come back to it sometime soon and maintain this soft break status– But that just isn’t fair either. I can’t keep you on call for so long. I can’t keep you on the tight rope for too long, I know this. This makes things even harder.

This isn’t such a black and white matter of loving each other so much and being able to stick it out like it was with in the past, because the very nature of things might be calling me to potentially have to give everything up. It isn’t a matter of loving you at this point, it isn’t at all. I love you more than ever, I promise you that. I miss your friendship so much right now. If it was just a matter of love then things would be simple. There are things here which are too large for myself to grasp right now. I think that is why I might be hitting this new phase. The only way I could make sense of it all is I would need such a phase to explore this larger, unknown object floating about and truly comprehend it.

I really fail at properly loving you. I don’t know what else to say at this point. I am afraid. I do love you so much. I am so lonely right now, I am often miserable even if I have temporal happiness. I know I must struggle, though. I probably need to. I might even be long overdue for some mistakes in my life, Lord knows that I’ve spent so much of my life trying to avoid them.

I don’t want to leave you. I don’t know what I need though. I want things to be simple, but that just doesn’t seem possible right now.

I am a walking paradox. I am a walking violation of universal principles and laws of physics. I think I am more confused after writing this. I am sad. I don’t want you to be sad, I don’t want to make you sad. I am probably repeating myself at this point.

I am sorry, Kara. I would understand if you can’t put up with this right now, or if you don’t want to risk getting anymore hurt than you probably are. I know you love me and want to help me anyway you can. I don’t think there is much you can directly do though– that is the worst, I know. On top of this, if the only way you can really be there for me is by leaving me, well, even I don’t have any comprehension of that.

Once again, I am just so unsure and confused.

Once again, I’m sorry.

Attention Whore

The following is something I’ve complained about before, but it is always good to revisit these things. Women, girls, whatever you consider yourself to be, or however you are classified based on how you act: I think half of your take for granted how easy you get attention, and the other half who don’t take it for granted certainly take advantage of it. So, you’re cute– at least cute enough for a multitude of men to be driven enough to want to throw attention your way just because you pass a primal sort of threshold of attraction to try to reel you in by shallowly make you feel good about yourself. Congratulations, you’ve accomplished a lot.

For those of you who take it for granted, wake up and take some, not a lot, but just enough attention to perhaps let yourself look in the mirror and realize you aren’t fat or overweight, and that just because your frame isn’t the photoshopped tree branch wearing a wig that you see in media, a terrifying percentage of men will find whatever your frame is attractive. And that doesn’t include all the other variables that will put you into that attention garnering part of the diagram.

Now, before people start to complain and say, “Oh look at this guy, he’s just jealous, or frustrated because..,” SHUT UP! Hell yes I’m envious! Why? Because I work hard for my attention. I work damn hard. I ain’t no Pretty Bolgeo, but I at least am my best looking I’ve been in my life. I’m also in great shape. More importantly, I am interesting, often funny, intelligent, and like the ocean floor with a good mix of varying levels deep and shallow. I’m caring, I’m not a pig, but I also don’t act like an asexual eunuch. I am respectful, but not androgynously passive. I offer plenty of insight, or perspective. I could write my way out of a public desecration and sacrifice as a prisoner to an ancient tribal civilization. I can treat people, but also know how to receive hospitality. Heck, I can even cook these days. I could continue listing, but the point is, I have to use




of these qualities, and furthermore try to use them in a positive fashion just to receive enough attention to register on a scale of time perceivable by humans. And we are talking about attention from anyone, even my momma. So yeah, I’m a bit jealous, and sometimes a touch bitter, but with in very good reason, because you have it too easy. I have no problem being honest about this. I am not holding any grudges. If I weren’t working so hard, then there would be no contrast for you to realize how easy you have it. I’m not here to tell you what to do beyond that. I just want you to know. Next time you feel down on yourself, all you have to do is put on a tight skirt, some make-up, get your hair did a little bit and walk into a crowd. If I had been the one to paint the Mona Lisa, I probably wouldn’t get admiration for it until after I’ve been long resting in the Earth.

And this falls into what I really had on my mind to write about. I don’t like giving attention, or rather, playing the usual game for it that everyone else does. Now of course, people are going to say that if you don’t play the game by the rules (by societies constructs, or whatever), then of course you’re going to always be watching from the bench. I don’t try to play my own game entirely, I just hate having to play the same game everyone else does. It is faulty.

I misspoke a second ago. I do like giving attention, I don’t like the ways I have to. Here is an example of one of my biggest problems:

Say I like a girl, well wait, let’s say I’m just attracted to this lovely lady– I can’t express that so overtly. I’ve been watching fools walk up to women my entire life and so overtly flying their banner that shouts, “ooh mama, I like what you have to offer so I’m going to do as much as I can to look like a hopeless idiot to you and anyone with eyeballs in the vicinity.”

Screw that.

This works in public. In a bar. Amongst groups of friends. In knitting class. Even on the Internet, and so on.

Maybe it is purely pride, but I just can’t lower myself to that position. If I can get into a more shielded setting, then it’s on, but otherwise, well, I think it is clear that shuts me out of almost everything. I have a better handle on attraction (from basic instinctual concepts, to person specific things, all the way to body language) then I probably let on, or let myself take advantage of, and I’d say one of the principles is that in most cases, if you don’t properly display or convey attraction from yourself, there is no chance for another person to be attracted to you. Caveats to this are if you are just an aesthetically beautiful person, famous, sometimes if you’re charismatic, or if you’re just lucky and that person already is in to you. But even with the last one, if you don’t cultivate what you could consider an ember of attraction, it can end up into nothing but a lump of coal, or even worse.

Granted, I’ve been playing with this handicap my entire life, so I am kind of used to it. But as a young adult, it is a weird place to be in life, and it is kind of like growing up a baseball prospect– you finally get to the majors and find that everyone else is using steroids, and your integrity isn’t only useless; it’s detrimental.

There aren’t things that I think about too often, or bother me a lot, but from time to time, such as tonight (or lately this week), they have annoyed me. I just wanted to speak my piece once again.

I think you’re all scumbags either way.


AMENDMENT –  I had to come back and add this, because I realized I missed my entire point. The point is less about doing things for attention, or having to show attention to get it. Those list of qualities that I put up against being a woman and looking good which should get attention are not things I do to get attention. In fact, I try to make sure I don’t derive attention from them directly (to a fault, probably). For instance, I’ve tried hard to get better at receiving compliments. Even in some lousy pick-up basketball game, I don’t like it when I go off and am hitting shots in peoples faces and the other guys on the other team are telling me, “quit making everything!” I don’t know how to react to that. What am I supposed to say? “Yeah, what can I say, I’m awesome. I’ve also worked my tail off to be able to do this. I used to have a tail, by the way,” I don’t like how that conveys myself. Likewise, if it looks like I do specific things for attention, it looks desperate in a way.

Here’s what it boils down to: I believe in recognition more than attention. Once again, it is probably a flawed perception, but I think that, for instance, if I write and keep writing, people should eventually see it and gradually take interest because it is good and it strikes a chord with some people. How it actually works is: if I write, even if it is good, and strikes a chord with someone, I still have to get in an old airplane and write about my writing in the sky so everyone can know about it, or basically, market it and jump around screaming, “look at me! Look at me! Attention! Attention!”

If you have to be so aggressive and up front about it, it is attention. If you can find a way to receive notice naturally, it is recognition. I don’t like playing into the usual system because I would rather recognize someone for something beyond just the fact that I think they’re pretty. And so on.

That was the whole point of what I wrote. Sorry for forgetting it, haha.