I'm a consummate self-analyst. Not only am I fond of reasoning out my every decision and feeling, but also of acknowledging the limitless possibilities inherent in a single action. This results in a lot of paranoia about the future and choices made in the present. It also results in a lot of situations (as often happen in sitcoms or HBO dramas) where I'm the subject of some diatribe or lecture whereby the person thinks they are revealing knowledge of myself, to myself, only for me to be generously irritated at the assumption that I hadn't thought of it. I'm crazy, no doubt, but delusion is not a spice in my recipe. Among other things, I think I suffer from some mild form of obsessive compulsive disorder, or "The O.C. disorder." At any given time, my mind is traveling down the tunnels through scary or wonderful non-terminal butterfly effects.
Wee.
I think that the self-defeating prophecy is my favorite, sort of like saying that blue skies are my favorite, since both are found in abundance. Still, I try not to let my paranoia or insecurities completely determine my personal life. Frankly, despite how beautiful I can swing a sadness, I rather enjoy being happy. It tickles my fancy, and I'd like for it to keep on tickling well into eternity if I can help it.
Relative to the lone wolf, gray attitude which I took to in the past couple years, it comes rather as a surprise how in love I am, and the happiness that that love has generated. Sure, I may not show it openly (in fact, I was recently asked if I was depressed, because I was acting differently), but it nests so close to my inner thoughts that it practically becomes me. I'm operating on a whole other level of internal dialogue, which I think is the most important dialogue -- except, perhaps in this case, those which I carry on with Persephone.
Every love is different, and while that which I share with this woman encompasses with varying degrees all other loves which I have ever felt, it is defined by a truth of comfort, an ease which I am not accustomed to. It permeates every experience I have with her, however minor or insignificant. Persephone is everything I imagine her to be. Yeah, we surprise each other sometimes. Yeah, we have random fun. But most of all, it's that smile I have in my heart, even if it's not on my face, every time I kiss her cheek or she walks into a room. It doesn't shatter down my defenses, it glides through them. It doesn't trip me up, it doesn't send me through the roof. It floats like feathers on the wind, landing and lofting up again, over and over, across the empty plane of thought and feeling.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Just Because
I can't believe it's been over a month since I posted in this thing. Do I really have no commentary to offer? No snark, no existential musings? No self-indulgent, presumptuous statements about the way of things?
You often hear that ignorance is bliss. Maybe the reverse is true as well. I have found that though I am quite happy right now, thanks in large part to that thing called Love, I lack the traditional depth and focus I used to have on life's finer mysteries, the nuances of behavior in those around me, and how to perform rudimentary simple tasks such as walking without running into things. Last night I walked into the edge of the stove. This morning, I sliced my toe on a stray DVD player. Today I find myself unable to perform the function of sorting data in Microsoft Excel, or to remember where I stored a particular drafted letter. I put a sheet on my bed the wrong way and didn't realize I had done it until I was under the covers.
Is Suffering perhaps a close friend to Mental Acuity? And I, now hanging out with Peace & Contentment, have been ostracized from sitting at his lunch table? Seriously. Maybe bliss does beget ignorance. When you lack nothing which you desire, you lack the urge to discover, to analyze. You generate no answers, because you generate no questions.
Oh yeah, I was also in a car accident recently. I don't think that, at least, had anything to do with my not hasing smarts. Rather, that had to do with my not hasing tractions. Michigan winter can be pretty brutal, especially in an economy where plows and saltings are no longer affordable. My car turns from just having an offensive color to being a death trap on wheels. I skid, slide, and drift while going less than 20 miles an hour. Let me put this another way: if there is ice anywhere on a road, my awareness of my own mortality expands infinitely.
No one seems to really understand this either. There is some notion, somehow, that because I've only lived in this state my whole life I could somehow just be bad at driving in winter. I seem to remember driving in winter for 6 years prior to getting this car and not almost dying every time I got on an icy/snowy road.
You often hear that ignorance is bliss. Maybe the reverse is true as well. I have found that though I am quite happy right now, thanks in large part to that thing called Love, I lack the traditional depth and focus I used to have on life's finer mysteries, the nuances of behavior in those around me, and how to perform rudimentary simple tasks such as walking without running into things. Last night I walked into the edge of the stove. This morning, I sliced my toe on a stray DVD player. Today I find myself unable to perform the function of sorting data in Microsoft Excel, or to remember where I stored a particular drafted letter. I put a sheet on my bed the wrong way and didn't realize I had done it until I was under the covers.
Is Suffering perhaps a close friend to Mental Acuity? And I, now hanging out with Peace & Contentment, have been ostracized from sitting at his lunch table? Seriously. Maybe bliss does beget ignorance. When you lack nothing which you desire, you lack the urge to discover, to analyze. You generate no answers, because you generate no questions.
Oh yeah, I was also in a car accident recently. I don't think that, at least, had anything to do with my not hasing smarts. Rather, that had to do with my not hasing tractions. Michigan winter can be pretty brutal, especially in an economy where plows and saltings are no longer affordable. My car turns from just having an offensive color to being a death trap on wheels. I skid, slide, and drift while going less than 20 miles an hour. Let me put this another way: if there is ice anywhere on a road, my awareness of my own mortality expands infinitely.
No one seems to really understand this either. There is some notion, somehow, that because I've only lived in this state my whole life I could somehow just be bad at driving in winter. I seem to remember driving in winter for 6 years prior to getting this car and not almost dying every time I got on an icy/snowy road.
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