Was just thinking about you.
I don’t really want to talk about what’s been going on with me (all engineered by me to be much more dramatic than other people would have it, because, I think, I just need the excitement and disaster is so much easier to create than anything positive).
My tendency (some would say addiction) to make disaster is the reason I’ve been staying at least a ten foot pole away from other people’s lives.
Actually, I’ve tried to shorten the pole now three times in the last few months and every time I’ve been curb-checked by God, it seems. Wow, really impressive stuff — painful.
I like to fantasize that I’m in control of my own life (everything thinks they’re in control of theirs and can’t understand why I don’t take control of mine and stop being such a loser), and in fact like to fantasize that I’m the center of the universe — and sometimes the universe does seem to arrange itself for my convenience, down to the weather at times, but I’m definitely not.
And whatever path I’m supposed to walk is apparently so complicated that it’s not possible for me to see where I’m going. Just following a set of life principles doesn’t seem to do it.
This email is like an hour old now. I guess I forgot that I wasn’t going to say what was going on with me. I guess I meant that I wasn’t going to talk about this weekend’s curb check.
The “curb check” joke is one I made up about how God seems to train me. I get an idea about something I’m going to do and then God just rubs me up against the curb enough to know that I should just stop thinking. God: <ERRRBBUBEBEBEBBRBR> Stop that!<EGEGEGEGEGEGEGGEE> Get the picture? Oh!! <HWEHEHEHEHEHHEE>
Did you see the movie, Bull Durham? God’s the catcher always saying, “Stop thinking, Meat.”
Oh, my God (it’s not His name, so I can use it), life sucks. If I didn’t take some joy in the pain then I’d really have to kill myself… which apparently is not allowed. Been there, tried that, it’s not happening. I swear I could walk into traffic on the highway and make it out alive, but at least someone would end up dead… CURB CHECK… Stop thinking and stay out of traffic, dumb ass, Meat.
Something very weird has been going on with me my whole life. I noticed it when I was just around 3 years old. I know what it is, but it just seems so insane… and if there’s something special coming up, I can’t imagine what it would be. Perhaps this something weird is going on with everyone though, and I just happened to notice it.
Of course, The Universe is great, and it seems that every time I pray for some sort of relief and inspiration to go on, that something magical happens for me. It sure seems like exactly how one would train a dog.
I hope you are feeling healthy and having some fun. <WARM, SQUISHY STATEMENT HERE/>
I will add this because I hope it passes on some good vibes without being creepy: I do think of you as a very desirable woman — desirable for the standard, somewhat objective, reasons and for your sweetness and intelligence and traditions.
I can only imagine a couple of potential reasons I seem to be kept away from women. Ok, maybe three.
(1) I’m just insane and punishing myself for something. This, I’m pretty sure anyway, isn’t the reason.
(2) There’s some particular woman in destiny. Since I’m 44 years old, I just don’t see how the choice of a mate now could be so important, unless I’m supposed to have another child. It doesn’t make sense that all this hassle training me and letting me see what I’ve seen is only about genetics. Everything we’re experiencing is simply an arrangement of whatever this is all really made out of (the stuff of reality) and it’s all completely flexible and by design, although it usually runs on automatic pilot according to the laws of physics. The laws of physics are for God’s convenience and to provide us with the predictability and stability we need to have to keep us from completely freaking out. So, it would make sense that even genetics could be arranged to meet His purpose, at the time of conception anyway. Random encoding “errors” produce excellent results, epoch after epoch — nothing more than an adjustment of the code for reasons we cannot explain.
(3) That I’m not to experience the comfort of a partner until I’ve done something.
This last one troubles me.
I spent the summer of 2010 with an old friend from school. She’s on a nightmare path of law breaking and drugs and scamming for this and that — just completely the opposite of my personality. For those few weeks, I was in grimy situation after grimy situation with her, and yet, I experienced a peace and contentment that I’d forgotten was even possible.
Then we started discussing life after death, and I realized it was really a discussion about a double suicide, and then she started talking about what I’d considered before — that it wouldn’t be possible to regret having killed yourself, or how you’d have hurt people who care about and depend upon you, because you’d be nothing.
But, I told her, I know for certain that becoming nothing does not happen.
I hope if finding a mate is what you want, that God has that dude cross your path and you notice him. I hope he’s a young man, with imperfections and a sweet innocence and ignorance about the future. 🙂
OH, about the comfort — if I’m comfortable, then I’m static.
I’ve figured out that the reason I’ve not tried to cash in on any of this writing or launching my kids thing, for which I’ve written all the hard parts, is because I don’t have a reason to do it. I don’t seem to allow myself to make enough money to provide me with security or convenience or freedom. I would make money to provide something for someone else, but I have all these generic plans to help people I don’t know… and that doesn’t seem to be inspiration enough, sadly. Everything men do, even complete narcissists, is motivated by mating — well, I suppose people don’t join the clergy for that reason, but you get the drift.
The Universe is, of course, exactly as we choose to see it. It saddens me that I’ve chosen to create a universe that, for now at least, is a terribly inhospitable place. Obviously, eternal damnation makes no sense — as little sense as immediate forgiveness just for believing in The Poster Child — but how much is enough?
I pray my sentence ends soon. This afternoon would be good.
Dang it, the statement about being comfortable means that I’m static doesn’t even make sense, because I seem to be stuck now. But, I’m only static in my entrepreneurship. Almost every moment of every day is a roiling examination of what the hell is going on with me. I can’t even sleep without examining that in my dreams.
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