Just looking for some anonymity, since my primary nic is attached to a lot of my real life.
This isn't about cheating on anyone, or spilling any dark secrets, but it would be nice to walk into something like this with no expectation tied to my username.
I was walking the other night and sorted out the big things from the little ones. Socrates said something about the unexamined life, but he was obsessed with truth. I'm only obsessed with finding my way, though to do so requires a level of self examination that few people should engage in. I am away of every flaw, every mistake, every shaky half-truth that makes me what I am. Granted, I am not only aware of the bad things. I am also painfully aware of the good things, the stuff that keeps me here.
I've been accused loudly and often of wanting to just fuck off, hit the road. The things that prevent me from doing that are the things that prevent anyone with a family from doing anything fun.
Yeah I said fun. It would be nice, wouldn't it? To fuck off and not worry about anything. I know me, though. I'd worry immediately. Because I am not a singular thing; I am social by nature. Unlike a lot of my peers, I don't do well alone. This perfectly explains my being almost always alone.
No wait, it doesn't. That's a function of me making a living for myself and my family. I don't have much debt, I do have savings, and I do well, but it takes all of my time. I do not have friends, really. A few, scattered around the country. No one here I could call to take out for a drink or head to a museum or sit around and talk to. Those sorts of friends are all from my past, blood brothers, people I am bound to by time and energy from a time when all I had was my friends. They're still all out there, too, somewhere. We're thousands of miles, all of us.
So I exist, like most of us do, working hard, head down, trying to stay alive. I miss things. I wouldn't mind being younger. I wouldn't mind being older. This in-between shit has got to go, though.
I married a woman who is emotionally identical to my mother: tough, singular, distant, and doesn't care much about me day to day. There are times when she loves me intensely. The rest of the time is spent idle.
This is my path so far. Maybe someday soon, it will change shape. Those plans, I haven't worked out yet.
More, as time permits.
This isn't about cheating on anyone, or spilling any dark secrets, but it would be nice to walk into something like this with no expectation tied to my username.
I was walking the other night and sorted out the big things from the little ones. Socrates said something about the unexamined life, but he was obsessed with truth. I'm only obsessed with finding my way, though to do so requires a level of self examination that few people should engage in. I am away of every flaw, every mistake, every shaky half-truth that makes me what I am. Granted, I am not only aware of the bad things. I am also painfully aware of the good things, the stuff that keeps me here.
I've been accused loudly and often of wanting to just fuck off, hit the road. The things that prevent me from doing that are the things that prevent anyone with a family from doing anything fun.
Yeah I said fun. It would be nice, wouldn't it? To fuck off and not worry about anything. I know me, though. I'd worry immediately. Because I am not a singular thing; I am social by nature. Unlike a lot of my peers, I don't do well alone. This perfectly explains my being almost always alone.
No wait, it doesn't. That's a function of me making a living for myself and my family. I don't have much debt, I do have savings, and I do well, but it takes all of my time. I do not have friends, really. A few, scattered around the country. No one here I could call to take out for a drink or head to a museum or sit around and talk to. Those sorts of friends are all from my past, blood brothers, people I am bound to by time and energy from a time when all I had was my friends. They're still all out there, too, somewhere. We're thousands of miles, all of us.
So I exist, like most of us do, working hard, head down, trying to stay alive. I miss things. I wouldn't mind being younger. I wouldn't mind being older. This in-between shit has got to go, though.
I married a woman who is emotionally identical to my mother: tough, singular, distant, and doesn't care much about me day to day. There are times when she loves me intensely. The rest of the time is spent idle.
This is my path so far. Maybe someday soon, it will change shape. Those plans, I haven't worked out yet.
More, as time permits.
| < lappy | 2009-04-19 > |
