Glimmer, shimmer, glimpse

2/1/11 1:48 AM

I open wordpad on my computer, and proceed to type the following words:

"A few words of warning for this:
This is my attempt at actually putting my feelings out there, in words. I'm much better at writing things down as opposed to saying them out loud, as I often have trouble getting my brain to edit speech properly enough that what I'm saying actually matches what I mean to say.
I may get a little rambly"

I''m completely sober. I'm writing a letter. One that ultimately will not get sent, due mainly to one fact: After I write these words, exhaustion overcomes me, and I fall asleep.

2/1/11 9:42 PM

I began writing this blog post. The current time of my typing is 10:23, but a catalog of original times and events seems important. Not for the efficacy of making this more readable, or coherent, but for myself. Last night, I helped one of my very good friends (whom I have spent nowhere near enough time with in the last 10 years) kick off her '28 days of turning 30' celebration. It was an honor, and a pleasure to take part in this.

The wine didn't so much as flow as trickle, but at a pace that was more than sufficient for good conversation. Although, it was more of a catalyst than a cause.

I realized then, that I am a much better study of moments than of details. More than once I told stories that were almost immediately contradictory to their actuality: but in my versions, the spirit of the original was nearly intact.

Caught in moments, caught in time. The little christmas trees, bouncing on her knees, a smile and the laughter of ultimate friendliness, I feel a sort of jealousy. Not envy, not jealousy- Proud? I am incredibly proud of my friend. I admire and aspire to the sort of strength she carries on her shoulders.

I see a person who doesn't just admit their faults, but embraces them openly in such a way to understand their own humanity, their own limitations. Glasses and pajamas on, hair and airs put away for the day, she still remains unflappably, and irrevocably herself.

I think her greatest power, in my experience, is that she seems always able to absorb the best of everyone around her, and return it, magnified, back to them. There are no moments or persons to small or too large to escape her notice.

It sounds as if I were trying to deify her, or profess an undying love, and I assure you I'm doing neither. If anything, I'm apologizing for not taking enough time in my life to be her friend. I wish, and hope, that everyone in the world can or will have someone as awesome to be around, or as awesome to hang out with.

As I left her apartment to return home, (2/1/11, circa 12:30 AM) there was a light mist in the air. Not raining, not quite. It began to refresh me, to clear my head a little.

PART  II

2/1/11 11:42 PM

Today was gray, gloomy. Days like this are good for me: they help me clear my mind. The clouds in the sky put a boundary on my thoughts. As the day and night have progressed the promise of rain has been fulfilled. It's droplets begin to clear my mind, washing away the grit like so much dust.

PART III

We cannot always explain the things in our lives. As to what we attribute these things, it differs, but the name I've chosen lately? Serendipity.

As for You? I hope You're reading. I've suspected you have been, but this time, as circuitous as I've been before, I hope to be more direct. Vague is the nature of my writing, so vague this will remain, but you know who you are.

part 3.2*

     I hope I'm not too late: My silence is palpable, and my courage wavers. Forgive my mood, my stoicism. I want so terribly bad to impress, but never at the expense of not Being Myself. I feel that these things are not mutually exclusive, but my mind tells me otherwise, and allows me to do neither. Your attempts at starting, at making the bridge don't go unnoticed, believe me, but I find a way to falter every time.

     I remember a not-quite-similar situation, years ago. I believe the exact words I said were "all I do is listen, I'm not sure we have anything in common, or that I have anything to say." I was terribly, incredibly wrong then, and I know it's not the truth in this situation.

     Give me a chance. If You have been reading, you'll notice my constant focus as of late on this feeling of scrutiny, observance, fear of failure. This writing is my therapy, so the problem at hand always dominates the thoughts. I throw back pleas of good-natured optimism, that work for hours and then leave me more dry and wasted on the inside. I don't need to learn to think about being happy, I need to re-learn how to feel happy.

     I'm working on it: one minute, one hour, one day at a time. It's always been in my nature to brood and stay silent when I'm not feeling my best. This is my defense mechanism, my way of preventing myself from saying something I'll regret later.

     Trust has to be earned, but I can't reasonably expect everyone to make the first offering. I'm trying, I promise I'm trying. I don't know what the first move is, or the next, or the next. There has to be a starting point, but if you focus too hard trying to find it, you'll lose the whole picture.

Section 4: appendix/ notes for the author 11:29 AM 2/2/11





Sally has given up on me. I can't ever reconnect that bridge, unless she changes her mind. That's what you get for mincing words.

Bond needs distractions, and that's OK. We all need distractions at times.

There's a fire to be found in the Embers. If you're afraid of being burned, the other option is to stay cold. Try being warm for a change, you silly silly man.

Post note:

"Will you feel better, better, better? Will you feel anything at all?"