Tuesday, 04 February, 2003:
"You better change
Before the sun goes down
You better leave
Before you are the last in town.
You better raise
Your fortresses or tear them down...
Tear them down.
You gotta tear them down.
Tear them down.
You better tear them down.
Tear them down!" - Dan Fogelberg, 'Better Change' from the album 'Souvenirs'
"Help me to find what I don't wanna know
You're taking me There but I don't wanna go
I don't care it's all psychobabble rap to me
You're readin' my mind you won't look in my eyes
You say I do things that I don't realise
But I don't care it's all psychobabble rap to me
You're lighting a scene that's faded to black
I threw it away 'cause I don't want it back
But I don't care it's all psychobabble rap" - Alan Parsons
Well, that pretty much sums up my internal dialogue. Paige and Pavel's "observations"
("communications people don't draw conclusions, we just observe", sure
Paige. . .sure) and my ever-present internal reply.
I've suddenly realised that this is a critical point. A branching-off. I see that
I can't hold my position indefinitely. Sooner or later I will be forced to move
in one direction or another and I will have no option but to choose. If I choose
the path I'm on right now, I'll end up following David. That hadn't entered my
head until now, but I am certain it's correct. If I take the other path though,
I'll destroy part of myself in the process. And so I hold my position for a bit
longer, knowing as I do so that the stress will surely snap something if I hold
too long. Why must I continue to be something?
Wednesday, 05 February, 2003:
Isn't the right thing to do.
How can I,
Ever change things that I feel?
If I could,
Baby I'd give you my world.
How can I,
When you won't take it from me?" - Fleetwood Mac
Thursday, 06 February, 2003:
"Rulers make bad lovers,
You better put your kingdom up for sale." - Stevie Nicks
And I'm still here, still where I've been. "Caught between the longing for
love and the struggle for the legal tender." Jackson Browne's hero ends tragically,
surrendering true love for the struggle for money. I don't know yet where I'll
end up. All I know is that something inside is no longer holding up. The force
behind the gears is making them strip. Little bits now, but it's not going to
get better. The whole machine is under tension, drive motors are smoking and something's
going to release all that stored up energy. I need to either reduce the tension
or release it. Release is dangerous though, unpredictable. Anything could happen.
And yet the only way to reduce the tension is to close some doors. I can push
everything back if people will just let me.
Some release. Not necessarily productive for me, but not detrimental. I'd finally
had enough of my Finance professor and I decided today that I'd just start correcting
everything I disagreed with. Amazing thing is that the class really got behind
me. Of course, the first time I said something I completely blind-sided the professor
and she had no option but to admit that my answer was more complete and precise
than the one she gave. By the end of the class she just wouldn't call on me anymore.
I think she was sick of my picking out flaws and finding more easily understood
explanations. I don't care though. She reads straight from the book and doesn't
ever deviate. Damn it, I'm paying to learn things. I'm not about to let her get
away with not teaching. I'm going to continue to push her until she pushes back.
I want a challenge.
And even though there's been a release, more builds. As I re-read Paige's letter
and see things I missed the first time through I'm rather less comforted by knowing
more about her ability to see into me. She says, "When I want to know something
that you may not want to tell me. I can play the cute blonde. Lets me in under
your guard." Not that I don't trust Paige, but the idea that she can slip
in under my radar is disconcerting. I greatly dislike the idea that she can get
me to say things I don't want to say. To her credit, she mentions that she tries,
"not to mess with the arrangement of the furniture" (i.e., my mental
furniture). Still, there's something somewhat discordant knowing that she has
access, even if she doesn't abuse it. If you're reading this Paige, I'd appreciate
thoughts if you have the time and the inclination.
Wednesday, 12 February, 2003: Different and the same. I feel
vaguely like I'm trying to hold off some sort of landslide.
Saturday, 15 February, 2003: Pavel suggests that I let the landslide
go in little bits and pieces. I don't think that's a workable solution though.
I'm either going to snap or I'm not. Once something gives way, it all has to give
way. You can remove one or two supports without the whole thing crumbling, but
sooner or later the critical support will be removed and everything has to come
down at that point.
Monday, 17 February, 2003: It begins. I'm starting to break
away from Ashley I think.
Tuesday, 18 February, 2003:
"You're the voice of truth."
"It's a new role for me."
"It's a good role to have as long as you don't mind being a loner."
"I don't mind being a loaner. I like it more now than I did when I thought
I loved it." - Exchange between Paige and myself, I'm the second speaker.
"There is no Eden or Heavenly gate
That you're gonna make it to one day
But all of the answers you seek can be found
In the dreams that you dream on the way." - Dan Fogelberg
Sunday, 23 February, 2003: She says to write. But what about?
She says the words will come. I ask what if they don't. Just start and they will
she says. I say I don't want to write about the meaningless things that happen
during the day. She says meaning emerges from the meaningless. I say I'd rather
write about the things I am pondering. She says if I'm writing, I'll find something
And so I write, having nothing to say but writing nonetheless because she asks
and because I have nothing better to do. But mainly because she asks.
Worked on the sunroof in my car today, last owner had completely backed the drive
cable out of the motor. I had to fish the cable out of the motor's well and get
it re-threaded, plus adjust a couple of microswitches. Not that much to do really
until the gears come though.
Why do I write when she prods me about the journal? I'm tempted to say that I
don't know and leave it at that. The anal-retentive side of me hates not having
an answer though, so let's see what I can conjur up for a nicely convoluted reason.
I suppose part of it is just knowing that I have a reader, but that's not all
of it. Matt checks up from time to time, and so does Pavel. There must be others
too. Maybe it's just that she's the most vocal. She's the one who wants to know
what's going on. But that's not really it either. She and I chat almost daily
and any questions she has for me can simply be asked. Ahhh, I think I see. The
journal is myself in a more distilled form than she sees when we chat. A rambling,
the river of my thoughts following it's own gravity and not being affected by
other influences directly. And I write when she asks because I'm curious of what
Nothing matters. Not even the fact that nothing matters. ;-)
Monday, 24 February, 2003: I will NOT be dragged back down
that road again. I have to keep watching myself lest I pick back up again the
things of which I have just let go. I was fine for a while, I was getting better.
No relapses. I cannot let this happen. The cycle must end.
Tuesday, 25 February, 2003: Did I have a dream, or did the dream
have me? I wake to a reality that feels less real than my dream. This will be
an interesting day if the feeling persists.
Letting go is not enough. Not nearly enough. Not even the beginning.
WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?
Who the "you" is, I don't know.
I have let go of things and it was better. Better is not good though. I'm still
missing something. A big something.
I say that nothing matters, and they tell me that such a view must be depressing
since it would mean that we leave no lasting mark. I tell them that they mis-understand,
nothing matters. They say that such thoughts darken one's mind. I tell
them that they are missing things. I say again that nothing matters, including
the fact that nothing matters! It's only depressing if it matters to us that
nothing matters. Once we see that it doesn't matter that nothing matters, the
depression vanishes like a Will-O-The-Wisp at the coming dawn.
So why do I still fel empty?
WHAT DO YOU WANT? Whatever you are? Logic was not the answer. I know that now.
But mysticism has not brought the great happiness either. Just a different emptiness
that feels more like happiness until you look at it straight on.
I just don't know if I care. I just need something to fill the hole. Give me something
to fill the hole.
Wednesday, 26 February, 2003: "It is better to be a human
being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than
a fool satisfied." - John Stuart Mill
I suppose that there are worse things than to be dissatisfied. At the same time,
better to be a human being satisfied than a human being dissatisfied; better to
be Socrates satisfied than Socrates dissatisfied.
I thought that letting go would make the difference. It made a difference, but
it did not make The Difference. There is more I must do. I must learn how best
to deal with the hole. I must learn. I will learn.
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Last Updated: 04 February, 2003
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