Maybe it's the tiredness taking effect, but tonight I lost my desire to return to Seattle. I have great friends there. I love the area. I have great family there. The work was good. But the simple fact remains: there's no going back. Things will be different. They always are. And they should be. Part of why I left is because things weren't changing, and now I'm detached because they have changed. Maybe this will pass, but it's an interesting realization right now.
This won't make sense to anyone but me, but why not post it for the world to see, right? I'm just in a strange state right now, sooner than I thought I'd find myself here: feeling like a new direction is iminent and suddenly feeling like the return is not an option. So now what? Where to? Whom to? What next? Do I find some permanence? Geographically? Personally? Interpersonally? Academically? Is permanence a pipe dream?
It may be time to "regroup". Time to retreat into solitude. To reevaluate my core, my context. And I thought I was done with all of that for a while.
It's funny how, in drunken weeriness, some of life's more bitter or enigmatic contemplations are accentuated beyond what I sense day-to-day, revealing the urgency with which I truly view them. They may be exaggerated, but it's the exagerration which reveals them.
Wow, I'm going to read this tomorrow and wonder what was in my water. Yeah...sleep...
24 January 2007
19 August 2006
A Realization
I went to Utah recently to interview for a job at the aquarium down there (which I don't expect to get), to get a feel for UT as a potential place to live, and to just get away for a weekend (I've been feeling vacation-hungry). As my friend and his wife drove me away from the airport Friday night, I said with a smirk that I'd had enough of Utah and was ready to go back to Seattle. I offered to take them with me. But we stayed. Some of the weekend really got me thinking. I had some new experiences--did new things, tried new food. I had some great, open discussions with friends. Deep relationships were deepened more. By the end of the weekend, I didn't want to leave.
I flew into Sea-Tac about 8 am Tuesday morning and drove straight to work. As the humdrum of the job got to me, and I started contrasting my life here with the experiences I had in Utah, I got depressed. Severely. When my eyes started tearing, I left work to go get lunch. At my favorite Thai lunch spot, I went into the bathroom and locked the door. And I cried. Hard. Gut-wrenching tears. It's been a while since I've done that. I was weepy for a good portion of the day after that. I felt alone, adrift, confused, and emotionally dammed. After a good online chat with one of my Utah friends, I felt better. But the realization lingered: I really don't like my life, in general, right now.
That night, I went to bed wishing I could just not wake up. Wishing I could just vanish from all existence. It's also been a while since I've felt like that.
I don't feel like that anymore. A couple of nights of good rest and some re-adjusting got me out of that slump. But the aspects of my life that triggered that nasty little depression remain. While some of those issues are too complex or too personal to post in a message in this semi-public forum here and now, some--I think--are worth discussing or admitting to those of you who care enough to read this.
I have some friends here (in the Seattle area) whom I love. Friends whose company I enjoy, whom I respect, and for whom I feel a healthy affection. I'm glad to know them. But there's something missing. That depth of friendship that comes from having weathered the "honeymoon" phase. When you see past the masks and facades and superficial acquaintances, and after seeing the uglier parts, you still love them, and they you. Not in a codependent or pitiful way, but a better way, a healthy awareness of their flaws and weaknesses balanced or overshadowed by appreciation for their individual character and pureness of heart. The kind of friends you know would be there for you in a heartbeat if you really needed something, and you them, and the kind with whom you can talk about anything. I suspect some of my friendships here could develop into those, and maybe a year isn't long enough for that to have developed, but it's hard to tell. And in the meantime, I'm suffering for lack of connection.
I miss the friends who come over and sit on my couch, and we chat about nothing important or something deeply meaningful, doesn't matter which. The ones you greet with a hug because there's a natural affection nobody feels the need to squelch with touch aversion, and nobody spends too much time worrying about how a simple hug or a hand on the shoulder will be misconstrued.
In returning from Utah, I went from being in a place where I felt emotionally exposed (and comfortably so) to my friends to a place where I feel guarded again. Masked. Misjudged (in subtle ways) and only partially or inaccurately appreciated. Don't get me wrong--like I said, I do love my friends here, and we only have a year's acquaintance to go from, and I'm sure I do the same to them, but the contrast was what shook me up. And I realize most relationships in life are this sort of partial level, and that's OK. But it's nice to at least have a couple of people around who know you on a deeper level. I'm not used to lacking that, and I'm thinking I might be responding to that lack by becoming even more guarded...a sort of self-defeating cycle.
In addition to that, I realized more fully how little I've taken the reins in my life. How I've sort of calculated but mostly tried to let opportunities fall into my lap. I realized how little direction I have in most aspects of life and how uncertain of everything I really am.
I felt like so much of my life is a complete waste. How little I've accomplished. How the things I have, in fact, accomplished, have gone to waste because I always moved on to something else instead of carrying it through to something more. But not really regretting that at the same time, because I've valued all of my experiences. Just being frustrated that there doesn't seem to be enough time in the world.
I realized I don't know what I want from life. What I want to accomplish. What career I'd like to pursue.
Something really interesting came of all of this, though. In my raw vulnerability, I realized something: I've not been myself. I remembered some of my true strengths and beauties that I've covered in layers of exploration and disguise, albeit unintentionally. I realized that when I came back from Utah, I felt like a core part of me had been kind of restored, brought out somehow. And when I came back here, it started fading away again right away.
That's not to say I have to go to Utah to bring it back out. It's just that something about that trip reminded me of a valuable part of myself I had somehow forgotten on the back burner, and somehow, I need to reclaim it. My concern for others. My interest in what's behind each person's eyes. My drive to make life a little better for each person around me. My thirst for truth and light. Something of love was rekindled in me, I think. Pure love. Love that results in concern, interest, action, and respect, even where little seems merited. And simple authenticity.
And it dawned on me more clearly: for whatever reason, whether because I feel unloved or unlovable, or because I allow distractions, or because I have covered myself with a hard, protective coating, perhaps my feeling of shallowness of relationships is because I have been reluctant to see people, through love, in their purest form, or even simply to express appreciation and affection.
I flew into Sea-Tac about 8 am Tuesday morning and drove straight to work. As the humdrum of the job got to me, and I started contrasting my life here with the experiences I had in Utah, I got depressed. Severely. When my eyes started tearing, I left work to go get lunch. At my favorite Thai lunch spot, I went into the bathroom and locked the door. And I cried. Hard. Gut-wrenching tears. It's been a while since I've done that. I was weepy for a good portion of the day after that. I felt alone, adrift, confused, and emotionally dammed. After a good online chat with one of my Utah friends, I felt better. But the realization lingered: I really don't like my life, in general, right now.
That night, I went to bed wishing I could just not wake up. Wishing I could just vanish from all existence. It's also been a while since I've felt like that.
I don't feel like that anymore. A couple of nights of good rest and some re-adjusting got me out of that slump. But the aspects of my life that triggered that nasty little depression remain. While some of those issues are too complex or too personal to post in a message in this semi-public forum here and now, some--I think--are worth discussing or admitting to those of you who care enough to read this.
I have some friends here (in the Seattle area) whom I love. Friends whose company I enjoy, whom I respect, and for whom I feel a healthy affection. I'm glad to know them. But there's something missing. That depth of friendship that comes from having weathered the "honeymoon" phase. When you see past the masks and facades and superficial acquaintances, and after seeing the uglier parts, you still love them, and they you. Not in a codependent or pitiful way, but a better way, a healthy awareness of their flaws and weaknesses balanced or overshadowed by appreciation for their individual character and pureness of heart. The kind of friends you know would be there for you in a heartbeat if you really needed something, and you them, and the kind with whom you can talk about anything. I suspect some of my friendships here could develop into those, and maybe a year isn't long enough for that to have developed, but it's hard to tell. And in the meantime, I'm suffering for lack of connection.
I miss the friends who come over and sit on my couch, and we chat about nothing important or something deeply meaningful, doesn't matter which. The ones you greet with a hug because there's a natural affection nobody feels the need to squelch with touch aversion, and nobody spends too much time worrying about how a simple hug or a hand on the shoulder will be misconstrued.
In returning from Utah, I went from being in a place where I felt emotionally exposed (and comfortably so) to my friends to a place where I feel guarded again. Masked. Misjudged (in subtle ways) and only partially or inaccurately appreciated. Don't get me wrong--like I said, I do love my friends here, and we only have a year's acquaintance to go from, and I'm sure I do the same to them, but the contrast was what shook me up. And I realize most relationships in life are this sort of partial level, and that's OK. But it's nice to at least have a couple of people around who know you on a deeper level. I'm not used to lacking that, and I'm thinking I might be responding to that lack by becoming even more guarded...a sort of self-defeating cycle.
In addition to that, I realized more fully how little I've taken the reins in my life. How I've sort of calculated but mostly tried to let opportunities fall into my lap. I realized how little direction I have in most aspects of life and how uncertain of everything I really am.
I felt like so much of my life is a complete waste. How little I've accomplished. How the things I have, in fact, accomplished, have gone to waste because I always moved on to something else instead of carrying it through to something more. But not really regretting that at the same time, because I've valued all of my experiences. Just being frustrated that there doesn't seem to be enough time in the world.
I realized I don't know what I want from life. What I want to accomplish. What career I'd like to pursue.
Something really interesting came of all of this, though. In my raw vulnerability, I realized something: I've not been myself. I remembered some of my true strengths and beauties that I've covered in layers of exploration and disguise, albeit unintentionally. I realized that when I came back from Utah, I felt like a core part of me had been kind of restored, brought out somehow. And when I came back here, it started fading away again right away.
That's not to say I have to go to Utah to bring it back out. It's just that something about that trip reminded me of a valuable part of myself I had somehow forgotten on the back burner, and somehow, I need to reclaim it. My concern for others. My interest in what's behind each person's eyes. My drive to make life a little better for each person around me. My thirst for truth and light. Something of love was rekindled in me, I think. Pure love. Love that results in concern, interest, action, and respect, even where little seems merited. And simple authenticity.
And it dawned on me more clearly: for whatever reason, whether because I feel unloved or unlovable, or because I allow distractions, or because I have covered myself with a hard, protective coating, perhaps my feeling of shallowness of relationships is because I have been reluctant to see people, through love, in their purest form, or even simply to express appreciation and affection.
02 July 2006
World View Quiz
 | You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.
What is Your World View? (updated) created with QuizFarm.com |
18 June 2006
Some Things I Admire About My Friends...
(Originally done on MySpace, referring to friends who were linked there at the time:)
Jesse: his willingness to give just about everyone a chance, his ability to ask for advice, his trustworthiness (not to mention his skills with the ladies)
Anne: her enthusiasm for her friends, her affectionate expression, her intelligent obedience (not to mention her snuggling abilities)
Matt: his unassuming warmth, his desire to bring out the best in others, his ease of laughter (not to mention his love of irreverence at just the right times)
"Miss M": her enthusiasm for all good things, her thoughtful giving of time and tokens, her drive for harmony in herself and with others (not to mention her almost unbelievable memory for dates/anniversaries/b-days)
"Tito": his unabashed sense of mission, his unrelenting search for truth, his playful thoughtfulness (not to mention his Broadway-style vocals)
Colton: his contagious smile, his (usually) soft-spoken wisdom, his adaptable cooperative helpfulness (not to mention his astounding Disney trivia skills)
Jenny: her enthusiasm to share her excitement, her ready openness, her supportive positivity (not to mention her twinkie-making prowess)
Stephanie: her playful warmth, her desire to give most things a chance to impress, her engaging demeanor (not to mention her ever-impressive store of expressions ready for just the right photo opp)
More to come...
Jesse: his willingness to give just about everyone a chance, his ability to ask for advice, his trustworthiness (not to mention his skills with the ladies)
Anne: her enthusiasm for her friends, her affectionate expression, her intelligent obedience (not to mention her snuggling abilities)
Matt: his unassuming warmth, his desire to bring out the best in others, his ease of laughter (not to mention his love of irreverence at just the right times)
"Miss M": her enthusiasm for all good things, her thoughtful giving of time and tokens, her drive for harmony in herself and with others (not to mention her almost unbelievable memory for dates/anniversaries/b-days)
"Tito": his unabashed sense of mission, his unrelenting search for truth, his playful thoughtfulness (not to mention his Broadway-style vocals)
Colton: his contagious smile, his (usually) soft-spoken wisdom, his adaptable cooperative helpfulness (not to mention his astounding Disney trivia skills)
Jenny: her enthusiasm to share her excitement, her ready openness, her supportive positivity (not to mention her twinkie-making prowess)
Stephanie: her playful warmth, her desire to give most things a chance to impress, her engaging demeanor (not to mention her ever-impressive store of expressions ready for just the right photo opp)
More to come...
31 May 2006
I'm a Collector
When I was a kid, I collected things. Clarification: I collected EVERYTHING. Marbles. Stickers. Bugs. Paint samples. Keychains. Decks of cards. Rocks. Shells. Petrified wood. Hourglasses. Mini glass/ceramic animals. Micro Machines. Hotwheels. Legos. Money. Dice. Yeah, everything.
I just loved collecting things and seeing the fascinating array in my motley menagerie. It wasn't that I had any special plans for each and every one. I didn't play with my paint samples. But when I was little, I would fan out my prized paint samples and marvel at the array of color before me. I would turn over all of my hourglasses and egg timers and follow the grains of sand as they journeyed downward, wondering at how unique each hourglass was, no two the same pace, no two the same behavior. I would take out my Micro Machines and splay out a cityscape with dozens of different citizens, some busily running their errands, others enjoying a leisurely meal or scenic drive, and of course the occasionally inevitable and disastrous twenty car pile-up, complete with screaming and explosions.
My rocks were probably the biggest collection. I didn't play with them, per se. I didn't often get them out and arrange them in any particular way. But I liked checking on them. Looking at the amazing diversity mined out of the earth. Wondering where each came from, what it had seen, what made it the way it was. Treasuring each one for its uniqueness. For the part it held in the whole. For the dab it was in the mosaic of geology. And of course, there were always a few rocks, or colors, or Micro Machines, that I spent the most time with. Sometimes, my old favorites slipped into the background when new favorites came along, but I always valued them as having a special place in the collection, even if I didn't play with them or marvel at them as much anymore.
Most of my collections are now tucked away or dispersed into other homes or landfills. I now have other collections. Corals. Clothes. Gems. DVDs. Books. Knowledge. Wisdom. Insight. And sometimes, I just look over my DVDs and remember what each one taught me or made me feel. My corals make up a fascinating ecosystem. When I buy a new shirt, I like to hang it with my others and see how the wardrobe is now slightly different, new, refreshed. When I hear a new insight on life, I find where it fits into my collection and tuck it in.
Admittedly, most of my longest and closest friendships are not represented on MySpace. Still, there's something about every person on my friends list that I remember: something I like about you, something you taught me, something we've shared, a connection we've made, a common goal or task. Sometimes it's powerful, sometimes casual. Some relationships have been complex and pivotal, some refreshingly simple.
I just sometimes need a reminder that maybe a person's most meaningful collection is positive relationships.
The really unique thing about this collection: it's incredibly dynamic. Even when old acquaintances slip into the background, they're always changing, and so are you, and you never know when you might be brought back together or swept apart. But regardless, it's a collection you take with you.
OK so maybe it's not profound or new, but I I figured was worth writing. OK enough lounging, I'm gonna go get sweaty and buff.
I just loved collecting things and seeing the fascinating array in my motley menagerie. It wasn't that I had any special plans for each and every one. I didn't play with my paint samples. But when I was little, I would fan out my prized paint samples and marvel at the array of color before me. I would turn over all of my hourglasses and egg timers and follow the grains of sand as they journeyed downward, wondering at how unique each hourglass was, no two the same pace, no two the same behavior. I would take out my Micro Machines and splay out a cityscape with dozens of different citizens, some busily running their errands, others enjoying a leisurely meal or scenic drive, and of course the occasionally inevitable and disastrous twenty car pile-up, complete with screaming and explosions.
My rocks were probably the biggest collection. I didn't play with them, per se. I didn't often get them out and arrange them in any particular way. But I liked checking on them. Looking at the amazing diversity mined out of the earth. Wondering where each came from, what it had seen, what made it the way it was. Treasuring each one for its uniqueness. For the part it held in the whole. For the dab it was in the mosaic of geology. And of course, there were always a few rocks, or colors, or Micro Machines, that I spent the most time with. Sometimes, my old favorites slipped into the background when new favorites came along, but I always valued them as having a special place in the collection, even if I didn't play with them or marvel at them as much anymore.
Most of my collections are now tucked away or dispersed into other homes or landfills. I now have other collections. Corals. Clothes. Gems. DVDs. Books. Knowledge. Wisdom. Insight. And sometimes, I just look over my DVDs and remember what each one taught me or made me feel. My corals make up a fascinating ecosystem. When I buy a new shirt, I like to hang it with my others and see how the wardrobe is now slightly different, new, refreshed. When I hear a new insight on life, I find where it fits into my collection and tuck it in.
Admittedly, most of my longest and closest friendships are not represented on MySpace. Still, there's something about every person on my friends list that I remember: something I like about you, something you taught me, something we've shared, a connection we've made, a common goal or task. Sometimes it's powerful, sometimes casual. Some relationships have been complex and pivotal, some refreshingly simple.
I just sometimes need a reminder that maybe a person's most meaningful collection is positive relationships.
The really unique thing about this collection: it's incredibly dynamic. Even when old acquaintances slip into the background, they're always changing, and so are you, and you never know when you might be brought back together or swept apart. But regardless, it's a collection you take with you.
OK so maybe it's not profound or new, but I I figured was worth writing. OK enough lounging, I'm gonna go get sweaty and buff.
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