Salutations.
From a land in the great Pacific Northwest, where water pushes it's way through the atmosphere at great rates and the greenery abounds and astounds the terrain with its presence.
My worries are not epic or traumatic in nature, but they are my worries and I keep them well contained in a little piece of real estate near to my heart, metaphorically of course. In reality they are securely nestled in some convoluted conduit of my byzantine brain, well fed with immaterial fodder.
Amid the car door slams, bumps in the night, and loud rock music life marches on at an acceptable pace. Trading gang bangers for meth heads, it's here it's there, just know babies wherever you are you have only what you bring with you. Heart heavy, heart full, spilling out into the empty spaces between us. What for? No intrinsic rhyme with reasons obscured somewhere and only manifest in hindsight. I reach out in many directions with varying levels of discretion, I give and take in unequal measure. Not entirely sure which way the pendulum is swinging currently, but determined to not let it take me out on it's way down.
Why do doors open and close so often? Why do I find myself wanting things to be still?
I know some depraved part of me must thrive in this discomfort, because by some psychologically masochistic tendency here I am again; uprooted, replanted, unsure and aching. Perhaps the strength of my character is internally correlated and measured against a continuous struggle and surmounting. Am I truly learning? Under undulating thoughts of despair and hope, a pervasive thoughtful and questioning existence. I'd like to think so.
Funnily, right now playing on my radio is Talking Shit About a Pretty Sunset by (of course) Modest Mouse, the words resonate with me as much as they ever did. I often think back to my early twenties with nostalgia, sometimes I wonder if I never wanted to leave that place.
I think about my family, so far away from me geographically. I wonder about what a life of independence means in relation to a life of love and belonging. Despite my amicable and seemingly social nature, am I more parts hermit than I'd like to think? When do I really feel best?
I guess it's all things to consider, in some ways I appreciate the space in which to consider it. Taking the time to think about it all.
My place. Your place. How we relate in this world.
It's not clear to me, however I am still attuned. Thinking about the ramifications of technology. Of sharing this with you, yes you! With no other outcome outside of you lazily visually perusing my deepest emotions, I don't know really. I think it is more for me to get the words out, because they feel better outside of me than in me.
I get tired a lot. Life seems increasingly draining with not much replenishing. I consequently spend a lot of time alone and find it hard to rustle out of that pattern (dubious self effacing cycle, ya, i know) through my own volition. Slowly going in another direction.
Romantically!
Nothing to speak of. It's all good though, not in a hurry. Well, seemingly in a hurry if you count brushing someone off for not seeming interested enough after a week... But, really trying to stay accurate to my guttural senses.
Overall..
I'm good. Trying to make friends. Spending quality time with myself. And, most poignantly right now, growing professionally.
I think this might be the end of the transmission
:)
Until next time stranger, expect great things...
