For the first time in a while I have a moment of respite. Reflection. Thought. Quiet from the inner turmoil and outer stresses of the last week or so. There were many times this past week I could have posted; but my heart just wasn’t in it. If I had, what would have resulted would have been another tedious hem-hawing post on the indecisive philandering of a troubled mind (edit: never mind that). So here I am. A weekish wiser, or more jaded, listening to an old CD that Jack gave me, taking a break at work, feeling a little more optimistic about everything in general, and a little more world weary.

I’ve been talking with Jack a lot the last couple days, ever since the post, and of course before that. I keep rushing to try and fill in the blanks in our relationship—to title things, to organize and classify so that I can rest easy. But that’s not what I should be doing at all. I need to take my time, the time I have to figure things out. My emotions have been on hyperactive cycle over the last couple months, rising high, falling low and pulsating tremulously between those extremes. I need to stop falling whole-heartedly into one emotional state, only to be crushed and thrown aside into another just as drastic (and polar) extreme. I guess my newest resolution here is to let things be with Jack—to temper and moderate things for myself, as well as keep them moderate on the whole.

There’s no need to rush.

And that’s exactly my problem. I find myself rushing through everything—life, experiences, conversations, friendships—trying to get to the “better” part at the end.

But what if that is all there is to it. Maybe we’re meant to savor the process. I mean, life itself is a process.

It’s taken me about a year to figure things out about myself, months of painful painful introspection, the kind that starts to burn and hurt so badly that you want to just stop doing it, be with someone (anyone!) else so that your mind will stop. I still don’t completely know what I’m about. But I do know what I’m not about. What I don’t want to be about…and what people I don’t want to be about me.

There’s so much room for improvement and things I must work on, but I feel somewhat confident in reaching my goal. I know I’m at a cross roads in a lot of things—school, work, friendships and relationships. This is the moment for carpe diem-ing. If any.

Sure, with Jack right now I’m flying high—glad to be speaking with him again because I missed him terribly—but well that’s also a rather depressing sounding song called “Flying High” by Jem (it’s good though). In short, I am very aware of my crash and burn ability, and the extremely flammable/combustible condition of our “friendship.” These things are short lived. I know this. I’ve learned this.

These last couple days at work I’ve been wandering around like a bipolar on partially effective drugs. I’m tense and nervous, stressed and worried about not reaching the high standards I have set for myself in the workplace, and worried too that I will let others down. But then, I’ve always been worried about that. And I thought I was getting good at not giving a damn. Dammit.

I haven’t yet quite been able to put my finger on it, but there’s a certain mental blockage that comes up every time I attempt to explain how I am actually feeling quite recently. I force myself to analyze them here on this blog. If I didn’t, I fear I would eventually become a walking wall, a non-communicative, unemotional, amoral, apathetic nincompoop, numb to the advances of life—except in aging. Perhaps because there is so much going on on all fronts, I have lost this ability to think clearly. Not that I ever have. My blog entries, like my thoughts, are jumbled bubbles of incoherence. I sometimes just want to give it all up and just go away. I think I need a break.

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