I guess it’s been a bazilliontrillioninsanillion amount of time since I sat and wrote something worthwhile, and even longer since I sat to write in my wordpress blog specifically. Not sure what it was about last summer…the confusion of an active moving transition? the hot, humid Jersey air?…but I definitely couldn’t stop puttering about this blog, and at times editing and deleting the foolish ideas I recorded here.
However, between my unnecessary facebook posts and lately twitters, I am more compelled to return to writing, even if just on a stupid blog, in order to decrease my usage of these other, word-limiting, brain-numbing online community sites.
I am pretty depressed. Yes, it’s true it hit me again. And what could be the cause, this time? It is unavoidably in part, the residue of yesteryear’s gloom. But it is also, and more essentially, gaining the increasingly internal conflict between play and work, my childish and innovative self, and my practical adult self…a conflict between the realistic and strong little girl that wanted to be an anthropologist, and the contemporary version of myself, insecure and lonely, wanting to be a lover, the inner spoon in a bed of body-porridge, warm, wet, settled…
I am pretty sure that this latter, sticky self is grinding to a halt, and the inertia of this abrupt stop will lead either to complete, final destruction, or some lasting, glowing, golden something. I would rather not contemplate the former result of the inertia, so contemplating the latter, I see the potential of companionship, or good work, of confidence.
I also currently see a lot of unavoidable connections with people. And yet, they are leading to nothing, because I’m tired and I like to stay in when I’m not working. And it all seems like work. Well, I see people, mostly coworkers and people from last term’s school, who are definitely connected to my life, and yet after a short stint of relative socialness at my initial move to the Bay Area, I am once again immersed in solitude, in waiting, sometimes this feels wholly natural and steeped in patience, and many other times I am restless, and again, headed to inertia. And if I am headed to nothing? Than what? the future is too dark to tell. For the first time ever I have no real plans, nothing relevant, nothing pulling, crucial, cogent, vivid, decisive, bright.
I am just living each day. Otherwise, I feel I might go off the rocker, and that, my friends, my empty internet space…that, is unacceptable.