Home > Life or something like it > Entry 06/01/2006 07:47:44 AM – Mentat 276

Entry 06/01/2006 07:47:44 AM – Mentat 276

     T-minus…  Whatever…. 

     I frankly don’t care anymore what I’m counting down for.  I mean, after all.  I’ve got at least three countdowns going at the moment.  Or rather, I had three countdowns at this point… 

     After I’ve finally gotten grounded for the day with Charlie, and then I face a proverbial meteor strike. 
     After I finally get myself used to the feeling of finding myself in the middle of crater, feeling numb and pretty much trying to make sense of what’s left of my emotions, when I find the rug was pulled out from under me. 
     It’s gotten to the point where I’m seriously tired of talking about it, mulling about it, thinking of taking the hard road, the easy road, no road whatsoever.
     I’m tired of fighting for what little I have.   I’m tired of running away because it seems the easiest thing to do at the moment.  And I’m tired of walking away from those things that I simply can’t have. 
     I’m tired of having to salve other people’s feelings because they don’t have the strength to realize they’re in positions no human being should allow themselves to be in, because of either lack of self-esteem, or dedication to an unworthy cause, or even better, because they thought they had the strength to change the world around them.  
     I’m tired of allowing myself to feel anything for anyone, because quite frankly, I find humans in their little and big whirlwinds in their lives to be exhausting to have to constantly figure out, and constantly trying to interpret whether this is simply a small issue that has been blown out of proportion, or truly a big issue that has spiraled out of their control. 
     I’m tired of the dreams that I’ve been having, of a happier life, and simply not getting that happiness because of adversity and life being what life is.  A constant struggle to survive to the next day.  Failing that, I’m tired of the troubled dreams that I have that are clearly extensions of the stresses going on in my life at this moment.  To be able to sleep without dreaming or better still, to sleep without remembering those dreams, a wish for something I am simply denied. 
     And most certainly, I’m tired — so bloody goddamn tired — of reaching a point in my life when I can feel just a little bit of peace, and try to cut out a niche I could possibly call my own, some selfish fuck decides that they’re jealous of my little piece of tranquility and do everything in their power to destroy it through their own selfishness and their own penchant to make everyone else around them as miserable as possible — just so they can feel they’re on top. 

     I find myself thinking about the shelter that’s out in the middle of Dubois, Pennsylvania.  The one that allows the homeless to go there, work on the farm, and generally live the life of a cloistered monk for however long that they want or need, to either find peace, or simply get away from all the abuses they have gone through at their own hands, or the hands of their fellow man.  I remember that day so well, because when I was in the Union Mission in Latrobe, the house management from the shelter up near Dubois had shown up with a couple of the people that lived there, to see whether anyone from the Mission would want to live there with them. 
     And to think I almost did it.  In my heart of hearts, I could almost taste it.  But I snapped myself out of it partially because the man that ran that particular shelter looked like a rapist, or a very harsh man, but mostly because at the time I thought it had been my calling that I should go back into society, and fight and work towards the betterment of some folk…  The betterment of myself…  And reclaim the heart that I had broken, for falling in love with someone that in this life, I’m just not truly allowed to love. 
     Heh, how wrong I was about both decisions. 

     In find myself thinking about something that Charlie said during the end of our date up there in Diamond Hill State Park.  Something about the fact that all the Michaels in his life have always left profound impacts in his life, or changed him profoundly.  And I ask myself…  What could I possibly do for that man, given the situation I’m currently finding myself in, that I could effect him that profoundly? 
     Part of me knows what lessons I typically carry.  To embrace the unknown.  To live life to it’s fullest.  To trust one’s heart at all times.  To do what one’s heart tells them to do, even if it seems odd, or off-center, or perhaps even just a little bit dangerous to the head.  To be true to yourself, and to trust the friends one makes when one has been true to yourself. 

     I thought about the heartache that I saw in my aunt’s face last night when she had to tell me that I had until the 1st of July to find a place to live because my uncle in his infinite selfishness wants me out because he simply won’t have things that don’t work for him, and bow and kowtow to ever whim and every need.  And I knew when she told me, that I could see the path of destruction that this will lead to, in spite of the fact that she’s in the middle of that path and just can’t see where it’s going.

     I had thought about the odd and disheartening e-mail from Seth the day after he had read my last journal entry…  Seeing it as written in some terribly prim and Victorian manner that says a man should only attempt to date/court one man, and in a fit of wanting to talk with him about this, all I got was voicemail because it was pretty painfully clear that he had shut off his cell phone (yes, I can still recognize the difference between a cell phone voicemail and a landline voicemail system).  And after leaving two messages with no call backs, watched my brain race through all the routine places it does, trying to figure out whether I had been shut out, shut down, and Seth using this is some method of drama in order to move on.
     Then seeing the e-mails from him last night and again this morning, that things weren’t as bad as I had interpreted them still thinking precisely the headlong rush to dark places that I would, in wanting to simply give in, give up, deny any tries whatsoever, and go back to living my life in my own world — avoiding the contact and the want to share my heart with any human being on the face of the earth. 

     I thought about the invite that I had gotten from the folk at work to join them at Dave & Buster’s for drinks and partying for Saturday night, because Mat’s moving to Second Level Support some time next week, and wondering whether I should go.  Whether I should simply bow out of it gracefully, or since I have the 1st to move out, to simply run away, give up trying to make a career out of this job, going to Crossroads/Christian Charities, and simply disappear into the cogwheels that typically destroy or spit out people into Section 8 houses, living on Welfare… 
     The list goes on as I had come so close to living when I was in Pennsylvania. 

     I thought about just how pissed I was about men in general — most particularly myself — and wondering whether it would be possible, or whether I would be capable of living the life of a hermit, a cloister, a human being that simply stays to his own world and his own council, without having to truly interact with humanity in general other than perhaps when absolutely necessary.  Part of me thinks that I’m capable of it, part of me knows that eventually either the need, the passion, the desire, or the drive towards the thought “No Man is an Island” and do my best to fill my life with people once again. 
     And that’s the part of me that’s most tired.  Because I can’t decide whether it’s a weakness of mine to seek others out to fill my life with the sound of people and ensure that I am just as alive as everyone else, or whether it’s a strength to seek people out for the same reason.   

     In spite of the world of thoughts, and desires, and hopes, and anger, and everything in between that I can feel all simultaneously from moment to moment to moment, I was forever vigilant to the people around me, if only to get a glimpse of other people’s lives and see just exactly how they do it. 
     Of the young man that got on the bus at Park Square, with lottery tickets in mouth while he was flashing his transcard and fumbling with his wallet, that  when reaching Lincoln Park, pulled out a sketch pad and pencil and completed a rather good penciling of Inuyasha from the cartoon of the same name.  And I noticed that the talent lay entirely in the fact that he was left handed.
     Of the gaggle of loud and obnoxious teens that tried getting on the bus near to the stop for Lincoln Woods, that had problems getting one of their peers on the bus, because he had the wrong bus pass for the month (flashed a June transcard, instead of May’s).  One of his friends throwing out hers to help him get on the bus, gets caught and the bus driver telling them he won’t let him on because of it.  Then ½ of the gaggle getting off the bus to wait for the next one.
     Of the woman that was on the bus with me on the way to Providence last night, that had said, “good goddamn riddance” to the remaining gaggle of loud and obnoxious kids that got on the bus at Lincoln Woods because she was “…going half deaf…”  From the amount of noise they had made while on the bus.   
     Of the man in Providence that got on the bus heading towards Woonsocket, with a 32 ounce cheap, single malt beer or some sort, smelling distinctly of alcohol and patchouli, trying to hit on the woman that was sitting in front of me most of the trip home, never realizing that he smelled like a brewery, and even that woman wouldn’t be remotely interested in his ilk. 
     Of all the activity at Providence Place Mall, and watching the various couples trying to do the couple thing, some of them comfortable with each other enough to actually be called “together”, others clearly looking nervous as though it were their first or second date, still others looking like they’ve been together entirely too long and can only just moderately tolerate each other’s presence. 
     Of the workers from RISD and some other contracting company, putting something together over in Kennedy Plaza for the next Waterfire Celebration that’s coming up the day after tomorrow, looking relieved that it’s sundown and the temperatures are cooling down, and chuckling amongst themselves about whatever humorous comments they had made.  

     *sighs*  I wish I had it within me to simply shut everything off, and everyone out, like I see so many people can do.  Just so that I can pay attention to my own little world (without all the issues and the drama or the near constant introspection and temperature taking that I do.  Instead of paying attention to everyone and everything in the world around me.  But the only way that I think I would be truly capable of being that blithely ignorant of the world around me is either by dying, or taking my life…   The former isn’t really much of an option, given that I’ve got some years to go before that happens…  About one-hundred and ten years if I plan on keeping the promise I’ve had about living to 150.  The latter near impossible for me to accomplish because I simply lack the conviction, the desire and ultimately the selfishness to perform such an act… 
     So apparently I must continue to trudge on…  In spite of it all.  Not that I want to do anymore. 

     Well… It’s almost time for me to head out.  A late night.  Fun.  I’ll write more at some time…  Don’t know when…  Until then. 
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