March 27, 2012 § Leave a comment
There is a lot to life. I still have dreams, but they aren’t those of my youth, when I wanted to be a cowboy and a fireman and a baseball player. Reality, responsibility, practicality, low self-esteem turned those dreams to smoke. I even thought I would be a writer. But everything’s so hard. My needs seem simpler, but I can’t imagine attaining them. A lifetime of everyday responsibility has not prepared me for attending to my needs, which are not a bill to pay or a job to get to on time. The life prescribed by society is not mine at all. How do I get from it what it seems to have made no provision for? Playing by the sanctioned rules wins only trifles of that game and only amounts to a tease to keep playing. I’ve always hated playing, always knew there was nothing in it for me, no reward worth having, much less keeping; but tired of fighting or trying to play by my own rules, I would fall miserably back in line to give the pretense another go. That’s life–mine anyway: A run at freedom on a tether too short, a glimpse of my true self from too far away, then a return to the herd and my tattered blinders. Who do I think I am?
February 3, 2012 § Leave a comment
It’s easy to settle into a life, even an uneasy one. Singlehood may be a freedom, but it’s an incomplete one. There’s only so much I can supply myself. I would like to share, but the longer I live with my “little ways” the more covetous of them and embarrassed by them I become. These ways are what I have. I resist making them what I am. Most of them are filler, ritual replacing necessity. That necessity: Don’t I think about it all the time? What could I give up to allow someone intimately into my life? Which “ways” must they displace to justify companionship? I’ve settled into such a practical life that even intimacy must be judged against practical standards, which have already pretended to exclude it. New standards are in order.