If I know, what I know, losing isn't learning to be lost / It's learning to know when you're lost
Well, I suppose it hasn't quite been a year since I last updated. So there's that, I guess.
The sudden migration from Facebook to Ello made me remember that Livejournal exists, and although I suppose it is a bit of a barren wasteland and not exactly the hub of bustling internet activity that it was over a decade ago, it still suits my needs. I guess I just give less and less a fuck about writing as time wears on.
I think that might be because I've since let go of my odd sense of ego. I don't know. Back in the early years of this journal, I had a fanclub. I mean, it was never anything official (if you exclude that mock-up of a fansite that my old pal April made, and geez, I wonder if she's still alive), but it was a real thing. I remember one time walking around the mall and hearing some random girl shout "DEATHROCKBOY" upon seeing me. I pretended to not notice and quickly ducked into a restroom to hide as I did not recognize the woman, and frankly, I was a little bewildered. That sort of thing isn't supposed to happen!
Anyway, I might have developed a bit of a complex because of it. I don't quite know what you'd call it, but it was bizarre to me that I had this little internet life that had little to no bearing on my outside life. I mean, granted, this was back in the day where the two aspects of being were very much exclusive and not the weird simultaneous mindfuck of a reality that we are currently experiencing. Fuck, my phone wouldn't even take pictures, let alone browse the web or allow me to order pizza with a specialized app while taking a shit, then tweeting about it before I even wipe.
I don't know. I keep beginning paragraphs with an intent to conclude the subject introduced and I just wind up going off on a tangent. I SUPPOSE SOME THINGS WILL NEVER CHANGE.
The point I was trying to get to is that after one very dramatic relationship that shattered my entire recollection of an identity and a failed marriage that left me on the path of rediscovery, I don't very much know who I am. Or at least, I didn't. I think I have a pretty decent reimagining of myself at this point (it has been well over two years since I signed the papers, and far longer since that other woman's toxicity seeped into every pore of my being), and I kind of owe that to the many many years that I kept this journal going.
It wasn't an easy thing to do, looking back and reliving all of those years of data spilled in white boxes with cryptic phrases. But "if I know what I know, losing isn't learning to be lost. It's learning to know when you're lost." (Thanks, Roddy. Not that you're reading, but I'm really looking forward to more Idlewild records in the future.) And by that, I mean that when you are at the very bottom of it, surrounded by a darkness and fog impenetrable, it's nice to know that who-you-were-before is still readily accessible.
It's also nice to go back and realize WHAT A FUCKING MESS I was. I know your late-teens/early20s are already a minefield of fuckupedness (new favorite word, by the way), but my god, it's quite another thing entirely to go back to the Island and realize you never really left it (hence, we need not HAVE TO GO BACK, KATE!). I mean, I'm 32 now! I come into contact with kids that age every day and I can't believe I ever had the stubborn ability to pretend that I knew what the fuck was up. I didn't. They don't. Here, at 32, I realize just how little I know NOW, let alone how much I THOUGHT I knew then.
So, thanks LiveJournal. It took some time, but I remember now. I'm the same total fucking mess that I've always been, but at least now I'm wiser and less self-preoccupied with my own ability to be clever and poetic. Not that I wasn't clever and poetic (I still am), but the attention seeking and pomposity are just so far gone from me that I don't know how to even recognize that was ever me.
We keep building ourselves. Destroy to rebuild anew. Right now, I'm rebuilding. I'm getting somewhere with it, too. Maybe it'll be something worth being pompous about. We shall see.
I dunno if I'll ever get back to the weird stream of consciousness cryptic ramblings, but for right now, I can at least get back to work on not losing my goddamn marbles. Wish me luck. I'm sure I'll be back here in the next week or so. I hope I will. Then again, part of the appeal was always trying to show other people how great I was even though I really didn't care. That's me. I want people to like me, but I don't want to give a shit. I just can't win for losing (but if I did, I'd still be losing.)
If you made it this far, hi. How are you?