(no subject)
What to say.
As I get older my life seems to cauterize around the edges and the edges get closer. It's not a claustrophobic feeling of being stuck, it's more like the feeling you get when it rains, and you're some place safe, warm, familiar.
I remember those days sleeping with Melanie. In her mother's house. The tin pang sound of the rain dropping through the gutter, being utterly comfortable. Infused. Terribly satisfied. Over a span of probably two years, one wonders how all of that stuff was waiting inside of your being to be satisfied. How much of it was taught by what you saw and watched in the world around you, how much of it was determined by the close world around you, and how much of it was genetic-100's of thousands of years coming with ruts so deep you only have the option to move forward.
It's hard to describe exactly the feeling that that relationship gives me so far from it now. more than ten years and a lot has happened in between. Certainly peeks and valleys that are palpable and also, in the same way, familiar. I have an anxious feeling that I need to resolve them. If I cannot I feel that they will haunt me and resonate on my death bed.
I'm not that old, 36, but as I approach 40. You know....that's what's weird. My body has slowed down. My quickness has as well. My memory is not so fresh (but mainly I attribute that to having a smartphone in my hands, always able to be endlessly distractable) , but here I am, again, after a spate of running and lifting. I can still run at least an eight minute mile. I'm benching, probably more than I have for a long time, but still close to my max. If I continue I'll probably hit a personal record, and here I am at 36....makes me wonder what enough diet and exercise could have wrought earlier. Or maybe I've just adjusted, and this is my new normal, so any gain is the same way now as it was then. 20lbs gain here was the 40 lb gain earlier, but who can tell the difference? Living in it.
I guess my quickness is the biggest thing that I notice and forces itself into obvious. I don't feel the same "spring" in my step. My cuts are quick but the rebound doesn't propel me as fast.
I have become more aware of my alcoholism. I would like to say that I'm better at harnessing it and bringing it to bear, but I'm not sure if that's just my body becoming older and the effects becoming more immediate and forceful, or becoming elder-wise. If I'm honest it's because my body can't take the abuse and weather it so easily. It's become more of an issue to be dealt with than it was before.
My time seems contracting. I don't mean that in the ultimate sense, but I just feel like wasting time now is a big issue. ten, twenty minutes here or there seem wasted, where before they were needed rest. Rest is also an issue. I don't sleep well without alcohol or benadryl.
But, for the most part, I'm happy and stable. Sida is with me and though she is unhappy at work and is working through those issues, I still love her and nothing about that has changed much in the past 7 years since we've been together.
The set of circumstances that combined for us to meet, like each other, love each other, live with each other. I cannot recommend trying to figure out how you end up with someone that you love. I want to say it was "luck".
I no longer think of my alcoholism as something that will end my life. The struggle is still a struggle, but it's night life or death any more.
It does trouble me that I don't have many friends. That they don't randomly call me to check in. It's been that way my entire life. It troubles me that my personality may be the cause of this and is something I'm not likely to be able to change. I have to make the effort to call them and have them speak to me.
You come to realize that a lot of what you internalize as what you're worth is the report from people you're around. Humans are social creatures. You realize, perhaps, that a lot of people suffer, because they have only themselves.
I don't know. Met a guy yesterday that reminded me of my dad. Took the death of his friend's sister really seriously. thick carapace. drank 12 beers.
they got into a tirade about government intervention, about how all of our generation are pussies. then meanwhile lamented that they'd work until they'd die.
you know, honestly, a lot of people would be better off and happier if they'd take their pride out to the back of the shed and bury it. there's not a lot you can pin to a sense of self when you're alone and you die that way. we can preen ourselves in our mirrors, do it mentally, and for what? we all die the same. the world turns. green comes from the leaves. the breeze becomes louder.
I felt bad for the guy. there was something deep and resonant that he hadn't dealt with. it could be a combination. I offered him my number and he wouldn't take it. old-fashioned guy, maybe he thought, i dunno, he wanted to fuck. he just reminded me of my dad. I don't want to be that way 10 years from now.
that's fucked up. people need help and contact, and we're too busy with our lives to deal with it. You just don't have time to help them with it. the older I get the more thing revolve around time. when you're young you don't really experience time the same way, it is always an infinite quantity. that's why you're so shocked with your professor's time lines for you to turn something in. you live in a world that is endless, so why not do it tomorrow?
Time to take the dogs for a long walk. I don't really enjoy them the same way, but they love going out.
As I get older my life seems to cauterize around the edges and the edges get closer. It's not a claustrophobic feeling of being stuck, it's more like the feeling you get when it rains, and you're some place safe, warm, familiar.
I remember those days sleeping with Melanie. In her mother's house. The tin pang sound of the rain dropping through the gutter, being utterly comfortable. Infused. Terribly satisfied. Over a span of probably two years, one wonders how all of that stuff was waiting inside of your being to be satisfied. How much of it was taught by what you saw and watched in the world around you, how much of it was determined by the close world around you, and how much of it was genetic-100's of thousands of years coming with ruts so deep you only have the option to move forward.
It's hard to describe exactly the feeling that that relationship gives me so far from it now. more than ten years and a lot has happened in between. Certainly peeks and valleys that are palpable and also, in the same way, familiar. I have an anxious feeling that I need to resolve them. If I cannot I feel that they will haunt me and resonate on my death bed.
I'm not that old, 36, but as I approach 40. You know....that's what's weird. My body has slowed down. My quickness has as well. My memory is not so fresh (but mainly I attribute that to having a smartphone in my hands, always able to be endlessly distractable) , but here I am, again, after a spate of running and lifting. I can still run at least an eight minute mile. I'm benching, probably more than I have for a long time, but still close to my max. If I continue I'll probably hit a personal record, and here I am at 36....makes me wonder what enough diet and exercise could have wrought earlier. Or maybe I've just adjusted, and this is my new normal, so any gain is the same way now as it was then. 20lbs gain here was the 40 lb gain earlier, but who can tell the difference? Living in it.
I guess my quickness is the biggest thing that I notice and forces itself into obvious. I don't feel the same "spring" in my step. My cuts are quick but the rebound doesn't propel me as fast.
I have become more aware of my alcoholism. I would like to say that I'm better at harnessing it and bringing it to bear, but I'm not sure if that's just my body becoming older and the effects becoming more immediate and forceful, or becoming elder-wise. If I'm honest it's because my body can't take the abuse and weather it so easily. It's become more of an issue to be dealt with than it was before.
My time seems contracting. I don't mean that in the ultimate sense, but I just feel like wasting time now is a big issue. ten, twenty minutes here or there seem wasted, where before they were needed rest. Rest is also an issue. I don't sleep well without alcohol or benadryl.
But, for the most part, I'm happy and stable. Sida is with me and though she is unhappy at work and is working through those issues, I still love her and nothing about that has changed much in the past 7 years since we've been together.
The set of circumstances that combined for us to meet, like each other, love each other, live with each other. I cannot recommend trying to figure out how you end up with someone that you love. I want to say it was "luck".
I no longer think of my alcoholism as something that will end my life. The struggle is still a struggle, but it's night life or death any more.
It does trouble me that I don't have many friends. That they don't randomly call me to check in. It's been that way my entire life. It troubles me that my personality may be the cause of this and is something I'm not likely to be able to change. I have to make the effort to call them and have them speak to me.
You come to realize that a lot of what you internalize as what you're worth is the report from people you're around. Humans are social creatures. You realize, perhaps, that a lot of people suffer, because they have only themselves.
I don't know. Met a guy yesterday that reminded me of my dad. Took the death of his friend's sister really seriously. thick carapace. drank 12 beers.
they got into a tirade about government intervention, about how all of our generation are pussies. then meanwhile lamented that they'd work until they'd die.
you know, honestly, a lot of people would be better off and happier if they'd take their pride out to the back of the shed and bury it. there's not a lot you can pin to a sense of self when you're alone and you die that way. we can preen ourselves in our mirrors, do it mentally, and for what? we all die the same. the world turns. green comes from the leaves. the breeze becomes louder.
I felt bad for the guy. there was something deep and resonant that he hadn't dealt with. it could be a combination. I offered him my number and he wouldn't take it. old-fashioned guy, maybe he thought, i dunno, he wanted to fuck. he just reminded me of my dad. I don't want to be that way 10 years from now.
that's fucked up. people need help and contact, and we're too busy with our lives to deal with it. You just don't have time to help them with it. the older I get the more thing revolve around time. when you're young you don't really experience time the same way, it is always an infinite quantity. that's why you're so shocked with your professor's time lines for you to turn something in. you live in a world that is endless, so why not do it tomorrow?
Time to take the dogs for a long walk. I don't really enjoy them the same way, but they love going out.