How can you stay outside

The abridged lyrics to the song below (by Yael Naim) gave me comfort tonight. They let me know I am not alone which is one of the reasons I write.
--
Far far, there was this little girl
she was praying for something to happen to her
everyday she writes words and more words
just to speak out the thoughts that keep floating inside
and she's strong when the dreams come cause they
take her, cover her, they are all over
the reality looks far now, but don't go

How can you stay outside?
there's a beautiful mess inside
how can you stay outside?
there's a beautiful mess inside


Far far, there's this little girl
she was praying for something good to happen to her
from time to time there are colors and shapes
dazzling her eyes, tickling her hands
they invent her a new world with
oil skies and aquarel rivers
but don't you run away already
please don't go

How can you stay outside?
there's a beautiful mess inside
how an you stay outside?
there's a beautiful mess inside

Take a deep breath and dive
there's a beautiful mess inside
how can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
--

Beautiful.

My second winter in Philly approaches and I lament how little I have taken advantage of this opportunity to live in the city, to meet more people. I lament my complete lack of interest in doing so now. I've no momentum for the energy needed to mount that kind of assault on the inertia that has seized me. There is too much else to do and no one to help me do these things, these things I actually want to do. I'm not depressed in the sense I lack interest in doing something fun, I just lack energy to try to have fun, it's not guaranteed after all. Oh I don't know...I'm just in a funk. Tired of being alone, longing for luxury of having someone to complain about. Having a hard time seeing a future for me at work, imagining on the way home, a conversation years from now, explaining my strange journey home to the place I always belonged. I don't even know where it is but it felt like an awesome place. I felt secure, confident, free. I felt like it mattered that I was there. I had something to contribute that could not come from anywhere else. That I was actually gifted at what I did instead of merely adequate.

Don't get me wrong, adequate will probably see me comfortably retired in 25 years but God, how long to spend at something I have to curse, cajole, and drag myself into every day. I don't know what is missing and I'm not sure that some of my daydreaming isn't just frivolous escapism, romanticising things I would grow to dread as well. I certainly would not want anything that would drive me to consider present circumstances with rosy retrospection of the good old days. But life proffers no such guarantee. I make a move, and it either gets worse, gets better, or stays the same. I think if I ever stop trying to be a part of something bigger than me, something that espouses such high ideals and demands a devotion just shy of worship, then, then I might be on to something. I've always been looking for something to give my life to. But I think I've also kind of resented that the jobs I've chosen would expect, demand, and willingly take my life and offer me only baubles, trinkets, and money in return. It's never enough. For either of us. The job always wants more and I want more in return. Not because I need it but because something in me refuses to work harder for less than the numerous drains on space and oxygen I've come across. Because perhaps deep down I have a price, what I will put up with for health insurance, pension, and other trappings of security. Yes, I could dip out and all my days could be available to my whims, at least until I ran out of money. A part of me feels like I need something like that to figure out if I just need a break from work or a more literal break with my life as I know it now. I could try to moonlight another life but I'm a serial monogamist.

Oh. My. God. The dog just lit up the space underneath my nose. It smells like hot garbage.

Time to go outside until the beautiful mess inside of her comes out.

Gold Star

Even as I browse the internet seeking receptacles for my disposable income, I think of tomorrow and wonder if it is time for a vacation or a new job. I think it is a cry for rest or change when my greatest accomplishment is getting to sleep without struggle, and arriving at work on time showered dressed and presentable. I've got to be honest, I really think it's so awesome that someone should give me a gold star or something. If working out against yourself burned calories and built muscle, I would be freaking ripped.

Pouting at the Universe

It's been hard lately finding words for the stuff tumbling around upstairs. Even harder to make them coherent enough to post. So I'm going to try something I've seen at other blogs and just try a few sentences on a few topics. We'll see how it goes.

Relationships

I'm in that funk. That funk that needs and wants someone to love. The funk that fears it could go on and on like this. That funk that assumes everyone with someone else is happy, loved, and wanted. Even as I suspect one of my girlfriends is separated from her husband, I still stupidly envy that he wanted to marry her in the first place. In my mind she should at least know that someone wanted her but I'm sure she's probably wondering why they don't stay. Some people never marry, never have someone special in their life. It actually could be me. I should not watch romantic comedies. Ever.

Ever.

Seriously. Something needs to blow up in the next film I watch.

Thanksgiving

A predictable amalgam of love and despair. I sometimes feel that I'm inside out. That's why the current in a room gets to me, why I feel my mother's sadness and my dad's despair. Is that just the way of people who have been together longer than they have been apart? To reflexively shut one another down? To view each other through the smudged bifocals of a lifetime of injustices and slights so much even if they see each other's needs, it's hard for them to respond? Talking to one of my friends about the ambivalence of family gatherings, she said it sounded like I had a typical family visit. I think that's tragic even if it is typical because somewhere in our mind, we have this ideal. That we would be a priority to one another, that we wouldn't squander a visit staying up until 3 am and waking up at 2 pm. That since we weren't kids anymore, I wouldn't fall back into the role of being in charge, the border collie of the siblings. They came all the way home to appear as if they were being held against their will.

Since no one will be home for Christmas, I took the opportunity to present dad with the Crystal Head Vodka. As predicted, there was confusion regarding how I thought a skull filled with alcohol was a great gift for dads but we cleared it up and he was pleased with his gift. It was fun. I have a killer idea for Christmas that I think everyone is going to like. I can't help being awesome, it's just who I am.

Alone again, Naturally

November, I may have spent 10 days alone. I visited my best friend earlier in the month and hosted my sister for 2 weeks right after, followed by 4 days for Thanksgiving. My sister grinds my nerves in ways too numerous to name but one thing she does not mess around with is caring for Baloo. She loves Baloo. And coming home from work and chilling while she walked her was really awesome. And while I crave my space at times, truth is/was, I'm better when someone else is around. It kind of gives me a reason to live. To get up and want something out of the day other than to just get through it. It seems unfair to doom someone to a life alone who so clearly needs people.

A good friend of mine constantly issues invitations for me to visit. I feel like I'd like knowing they were there, but I would want lots of time away from them which has nothing at all to do with them. I just think I would like some time out at the beach, watching the waves and weeping it out. Pouting at the universe for denying me upper middle class income to sit and stare at the waves and for denying me someone to sit and watch the waves with. I rock the melancholy vacation. Again, I can not help being awesome at that. I'm just good at what I do.

Horowitz--scenes from my childhood

I love you, I hate that you do

I love that you're family. I love the comfort and ease I have with family. I may be annoyed, or contemplative or feeling just plain hurt but I don't worry what my family will think of me first thing in the morning.

I hate that you have been home all day and just got in the shower at 4:30 in the afternoon.

I hate that you have been home all day and left dirty dishes and my new skillet in the sink.

I hate that my decorative pillows are misshapen because you have taken up residence on a couch I now wish I could hide.

I hate that they are about to turn off your cell phone and the bank keeps calling Mom and Dad's house to talk to you about your unpaid bills and negative checking balance.

I hate that you're not taking care of that. Grow up.

I hate the anal retentive person you bring out in me because your lack of respect for me conveys to my possessions.

I hate that you say thank you but I feel like you are just being polite. You want it but you wish it didn't have to come from me.

I hate that you don't try. You don't try for me and more importantly you don't try for you. You think you can overcome your low self esteem by belching loudly in public and dressing badly. Take that world, kiss my ass, I can do what I want, you say. But I'm calling your bluff. You can wear shitty torn clothes, watch tv, and smoke as much weed as you want. Whatever you are running from is still behind you. If you didn't want what money and education requires, I could probably make my peace with your unmet potential. But to see you want something your ignorant ass could have is mind-numbingly frustrating and sad. You and your brother... I sometimes want a family so bad it's hard to get to sleep at night but then I think of you and think maybe it's for the best that I never have children. I can't imagine the joy you deprive our parents of. The world at your feet and you chose to launch into life with less than they started with over 30 years ago. It should be against the law to be that stupid. It maims my heart to see such loveliness squandered.

A mini update

Lot's of stuff going on here and much to write about. The cliff's notes version is no matter how disappointed I am about some of her choices in clothing, recreational activities, and general aspirations in life, there is no one else I would rather have an impromptu dance party with than my sister.

I will

I will ask, 'How was your day?' before we talk about the smell of burnt food and the new Caphalon skillet that was returned to storage sticky on the sides and still sporting vestiges of batter. I should have known you too would be intrigued by the unnatural Batter Blaster in the fridge. I'm genuinely curious how both side of the asphalt colored pancake in the trash were so terribly burnt. One side I get, both sides leave me wondering what you were doing between flips. I haven't looked in the bathroom but a glance at your room suggests a 24 hour maximum of any consistent housekeeping or conforming to the norms of the people you share space with.

I love family.