Monday, October 13, 2008

Am I Squinting For or Wincing From the Light?

Years ago I moved far away from my family, friends, and the familiar environment that had incubated my social development, career, and contentment. At the time of that departure I ventured out on a path described by circumstances and the intent of pleasing someone other than myself. I had a new wife and an opportunity to sacrifice my comfort and convenience for the love of seeking to fulfill her ambitions, hopes, and desires. There was no coercion or pressure from her at all. I acted independently, swiftly, and without regret. I also acted carelessly, too dependently, and without realistic consideration. The latter three became the hallmarks of my marriage and all other conduct as the man defined by those actions. I still have no regrets for the decision I made. I have no regrets for the leaving of all I knew behind. I especially have no regrets for having been married to the person with whom I then lived in a world completely removed from my preferences and own dreams and ambitions because I loved her – will always love her – and had counted the cost of discontinuing investment in myself to be a price worth paying to have her in my life.

My failure to invest myself and in myself has left me in a deficit from which I may very sincerely never manage to recover. I am so keenly interested in time, now. I am not interested in the time I have remaining as a positive influence but as the unwelcome reminder of a debt still owed and in collections. Time is not a healer but a compounding of that negative interest and the yield is exponentially wearying. I do not look forward, but, only backward in order to recall happier times. The exercise is not bitter or sweet. It is the checking of figures in a ledger and simply acknowledging that the accounting is accurate. There is nothing on reserve or left to be deposited that will enhance the balance. There is no funding underway for any hopeful or ambitious endeavors. I am made ever sadder by every moment I live. It raises the bar just that much higher beyond my grasp. I am alone to face a future that is certain in its urgency, sparse accommodations, and empty solitude. I am without currency and it is pay-as-you-go.

I am expressing this as a sort of pressure relieving valve and as a cautionary tale. Perhaps someone may feel resonant vibrations. If so, you are urged to tune to another frequency and lower or heighten the pitch of your life to something richer and resplendent with harmonious complements of something fundamentally fulfilling. I have always enjoyed the Blues but never was inclined to pay any sort of metaphoric dues to sing them from my soul. That said, I am on some sort of installment plan, apparently. The words sound familiar but the tune is something I am finding that I groan more than hum. I do not wish you to follow the trail of wasted years I am recollecting. When that journey away from all I knew and had never expected to be removed from came to be it was launched with a going away party. I never anticipated that all of me was to go away. I only expected there to be distance and difficulty but never permanent loss. I have come to experience more loss than any gain in my life here to fore. The first indication of that loss was at the party, in fact. My dearest and closest friends parted with good wishes and warm handshakes and hugs. I have all of them in my life, still. I did not lose them. Had I lost them I would not be here to write this. But the curious thing I took away was what caused tears when it was left behind. That which I cried over and those that cried over me in those goodbye moments were made of incomplete and unresolved stuff. The remorse was in the regret of opportunities not taken, friendships not deepened, and lives not interwoven. I am trying to remember that sting so that I do not live in this coma where all that remains to me are the tears of loss and no hope of gain.


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Wednesday, September 17, 2008

To Whom It May Concern.

I still suck.


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Sunday, August 24, 2008

This End Up

When reason and emotions have failed is there a third alternative? Or, why limit the possibilities? My self restricting limitations seem to be the undercurrent running over, under, through, and even, permeating the stuff of which I am. This is essentially the “riddle of the ages” question of labeling and identifying “ME.” I am pondering all of this as I am alone with my own thoughts and feelings entirely too much for my liking. And, people keep asking me how I feel with seemingly more intent and interest these days. I am really not all that concerned with how I feel. My feelings are not reliable indicators or even necessarily associated with anything of substance. That, I suppose, is the real rub for me. I do not feel connected, involved, or, engaged in anything other than consequence. I have had nothing to be about doing and nothing of any importance to say for a very long time. I do not even have busy work to distract me from the banality of my daily routine. So, what am I all about?

Besides the age old question of “Why am I here?” and “What is my purpose?” comes the more direct question of ”Why Bother?” I have the “opportunity” to reinvent myself, yet again. I really don’t want to. While I actually don’t have the chance to be anything I’d like to become I still have occasion to be many other things than what I have become. But? Why? All of these sorts of exercises are supposed to be for self benefit and be because they are the things that I want for myself. In reality, all such efforts are to placate detractors, dissenters, and well-wishers alike. I am simply tired of it all, tired of myself, tired, tired, tired. The thrill is gone. My life is endless drivel.

The entire quest of the past six months to return to my latest career (and reinvention of self) ended in an all too expected but entirely undesirably protracted way. Had someone merely decided they were going to abandon and then dismiss me months earlier I could have made different plans and pursued another course of action. Now, I am dazed and angry; disenfranchised, stunned, and immobile. I have no luxury of capital at my disposal to be selective and must take on some very unappealing work to try to extract myself from the muck and mire in which I find I am sucked under. How do I feel? Please refrain from asking such questions if you REALLY care about my well being. Also, add the following other attempts at concern for me to the list of topics to avoid; in fact . . . let’s list them all:

1) How are you feeling?
2) What’s new?
3) What have you been up to?
4) Has there been any news?
5) Why aren’t you rich?
6) How come you’re single?
7) How are your children?
8) Have you got a social life?

I’m sure there are others but those nine pretty much test the limits of my civility in not going blind with dismay mingled with rage and screaming unpleasantries at the person who has asked them. The reason I get so testy about those questions is that (in some cases every day) I have to remind the same people how much I despise those questions and have repeatedly asked them to refrain from asking. So, I suppose the truly frustrating aspect for me is the general indifference and lack of attention I am paid by my friends. That alone keeps me mostly occupied so that I do not extrapolate the data to the logical conclusion that if my “concerned friends” care so little to oblige my requests then how vastly uninterested in me does that make everyone else? Right? If the sympathetic souls – aren’t ??? Never mind.


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Saturday, August 23, 2008

The STATUTE of Liberty

When Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi sculpted “La liberté éclairant le monde” (Liberty Enlightening the World) or what is commonly referred to as, the “Statue of Liberty,” it was as a commemoration of the centennial celebration of the Declaration of Independence. It was also a remarkable ideological as well as technological achievement. The copper skin of the figure was wholly supported by an internal structure of iron, designed by Alexandre Gustave Eiffel. Yes, the engineer responsible for the Eiffel Tower. But, what I believe is all the more remarkable is how the history of the statue has been more telling than the symbols in its composition. I now look upon the monument as a sort of national “picture of Dorian Gray.” There are many parallels in the maturation of the young nation of the United States of America to the central figure in Oscar Wilde’s novel.

The concept that drove the forging of the statue was the idea of Liberty as a progression away from slavery, oppression, and tyranny. The grandest hopes of a free society were entrusted to what the founding fathers referred to as the grand experiment. The United States was to be a republic of independently governed states where democratic principles would guide and sustain it. So, within the elements of the statue are such things as the left foot trampling broken shackles while the right foot steps beyond them. There are seven spikes upon the crown to represent both the seven seas as well as seven continents demonstrating that the principles of Liberty should encompass the whole earth. The raised torch is to show enlightenment while the tablet clutched in her arm represents knowledge. To be sure, all of these things are indeed noble. They are also lofty and ambitious objectives so one does not consider that such accomplishments would be easy. However, it would not appear that any of those things indicated by the statue are either regarded or are possibly any longer noticed much less remembered.

I am a staunch supporter of capitalism. Yet, I do not subscribe to the notion that it is a fundamental tenet of the Constitution. The Preamble to the Constitution refers to Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. It guarantees none of those and it is very appropriately phrased that happiness is a pursuit and not a right to be expected, much less, demanded. What causes me to take issue with the current public mindset is that I sense that “we the people” have upset the balance of reason in favor of selfish pursuit. It is why I believe that when a nation loses its fundamental grasp of the principles, beliefs and convictions intended by its founders and subsequent generations that there becomes a “Statute of Liberty” and that statute has limitations.

And from this point forward in this essay is my concern as best as I have presently developed the analogy. When first delivered to the shores of America, the statue was in crates and needed to be assembled. There were mistakes made in the assembly that were not detected for nearly one hundred years. There were no mistakes in the design or the pieces as forged but in the understanding of the complexity of the instructions and the foreign language used to explain the process. The torch arm was actually attached improperly. Nevertheless, because the design work was so well thought out and so painstakingly constructed - even the foibles of the common man could not disrupt the integrity of the whole. When new, the figure was a shiny copper without any of the green patina that is now far more familiar in the minds of the world looking on her form. The flame of the torch was a solid and complete representation covered in gold leaf. It reflected the sun and shone brilliantly. For many years Liberty towered above other manmade achievements.

Over the course of time the statue became an iconic figure and many added their own symbolic elements to its meaning and purpose . . . even losing sight of its initial intent.
In the 1930’s it was decided that rather than reflect light, externally, the flame of enlightenment needed to be amended and cut full of holes to allow more light, internally. This was one of the first efforts that weakened the underpinnings and allowed the storms of the descending decades to penetrate the edifice and rot the framework. At this same time it was also decided that artificial light was needed to enhance the appearance of the visage of the statue. More holes were cut beneath the arm supporting the torch to place lamps to shine upon the face, and this further weakened the structure. More decades transpired and because the outward appearance of the statue seemed “fine” no one concerned themselves with any examination of the supporting internal works until it was noticed a few years after the bicentennial that Lady Liberty appeared to be “stumbling” and her torch arm was drooping.

It took a charismatic campaign to raise enough financial support to repair Liberty and make her whole, once more. There was not sufficient public interest in preservation of our heritage without the use of commercial ventures and entertainment value to garner the required effort. The benefit to the many was struggled and fought for by a dedicated few. Indifference and apathy replaced patriotism and the appreciation of preserving a national institution. The nation was enjoying a prosperity boom but had no interest in investing in its own relevant past so that future generations would benefit. The picture of Dorian Liberty was showing its age.

Upon close inspection it was discovered that the whole structure was on the verge of collapse – rotting from within. The generations had taken their toll, consuming without putting anything back or exercising any maintenance. The structure had been forged of iron by hammer, hand, and sweat at its core, with a copper skin, and the whole edifice was “safely” surrounded by a saltwater basin. When the notion to alter the natural cycles of day and night with electric light was applied to Liberty Island, the current was carried beneath the water and into the statue. Galvanic corrosion resulted, where the figure became a giant battery, with the saltwater acting as an electrolyte. While everything on the surface appeared unchanged, hidden forces surged from underground channels and dissolved the entire framework that upheld the lovely skin deep illusion of a colossus. The cosmetic portion of the figure was all that remained to carry the weight of the image and it was failing under its own grandeur.

I hope the symbolism is not lost on you. There is a familiarity with the corrosion of the once new and shiny plan and purpose of my nation. On the Statue of Liberty we call it “patina” for it is more attractive a word than ”rust.” We embrace the crusty film over our emblem as it would be far too overwhelming to return a shine, again. The task seems daunting. Likewise, we neglect our infrastructure because, cosmetically, all seems good. And we argue that the crusty film we have developed on the skin of our nation helps to protect us and adds to the distinctive character we project. That is both lazy and troubling. We used to be a bright beacon of hope for other peoples of other nations. But our flame is not so bright any longer and the fire has too many holes as we look for inner light and grow dim and flicker with doubt. We have also grown tired of holding that torch high and in a forward cast. We are directionless and purposeless, I fear. Perhaps if the torch were replaced with our current desire it would be a fist full of dollars or a new cell phone? All I know is that the current light in which we are illuminated isn’t natural. The only accurate element remaining for the modern Land of Liberty is the tablet of knowledge. We exhaust ourselves pontificating, exploring, and babbling incessantly about our superior knowledge. Sadly, wisdom has been forfeit in order to make more room for ambitious learning, apparently.

And the seeking of pleasure and happiness is the new slavery and tyranny that we elect to step into with eagerness. It was somewhere, approximately fifty to sixty years ago, that “thinking” was replaced by “feeling.” No wonder we are adrift as a culture. All of the principles, convictions, and beliefs used to construct this nation are now out of sight and out of mind. We attempt assembly of a complex structure in a language foreign to us. The subjective has been substituted for the substantive. Only because the original design was so diligently calculated and devised are we still standing, today. The core is rotting; hidden beneath a familiar façade assumed to be permanent despite neglect and a failure to maintain it. But there is a statute of limitations on the liberty of ignorance and arrogance.


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Saturday, July 26, 2008

Out, Out Damn Spot - Plodding Along

I am totally devoid of describing how I feel, right now. I am at a loss for words. This is seldom the case for me so I am forcing myself to write something – anything. I really just have too much empty space: in my day, in my life, in my heart, in my head. I am purposeless and pointless. It is a painful place to find one self. Yesterday, I was enjoying conversation and expectations. I was involved and engaged in trying to live. I had some lively interaction, but most importantly, I felt alive because I had a person that encouraged me to live again. In less than a day that person has experienced too much and has retreated. I can not criticize their decision. It is the right one from a practical standpoint. I am weary of practicality. I am so weary.

Nothing terrible occurred and no bridges were burned. Simply, feelings ran high and hearts sank low with the acknowledged fact our worlds must not get intermingled. Those bridges spanned the chasm of isolation and despair for me. Now, that road will not be on my possible paths of future hope. I was packing for a journey which I will never get to take. Those bags seem so heavy, now, while my anticipation feels so meaningless. Every other thought causes actual pain. My heart slows and I wish it would cease to beat altogether. I have had enough of being. I no longer care to exist. I have no way out. I have no way forward. I have no way through. I have no way at all.


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Thursday, July 10, 2008

Out, Out Damn Spot - Frankenstein's Ball

In the several weeks which have passed between posts I have been pleasantly surprised that concerned lurkers of my blog have written to me to inquire as to my well being. It now occurs to me that perhaps they sense danger or other need for caution which I have not picked up on while completely absorbed in a forum I practically have built my life around.

The fascination has been easily attributed to the excitement of some real social interaction despite no face-to-face or even voice-to-voice conversation. That was of little practical concern because the stimulating part has been the real-time give and take of the dialog. And . . . the random number of simultaneous conversations and posts makes for a very engaging atmosphere. Each participant is there to escape. For most the escape is from the monotony or avoidance of work. For others it is to reach out beyond loneliness, frustration, or isolation. Some simply enjoy being entertained. All are fine reasons and it really has become an addictive behavior for so many of the members. Unfortunately for me it has been an escape from reality.

If you are familiar with the concept of finger cuffs you will follow my analogy easily. My life has been continuing to become ever more constricted and the more I struggle and fight to free myself from the restraints the tighter and more desperate I have become. On the few occasions where from exhaustion or simply pausing to reevaluate and assess my lot I have simply yielded or stopped struggling all together the “hold” on my ambitions has relaxed. Likewise, the more I try to distance myself from my constraints the tighter they have become; while, if I face and draw nearer to the center of my entanglements the strictures slacken. I have realized this in every aspect of my life save one. The only area where I am still too wounded or conflicted and just have no resolution for the “what and the why” is the notion of dating, again. That’s where my escape through the forum I’m obsessed with has finally become apparent.

I have made the acquaintance of several women through this blog and an argument over a television show and through participation in the forum to which I will only elude. The first of these women reads my mind through the vaguest of comments, decrypts my veiled and cloaked thoughts, and puts them on display to me in her very next response. I am no longer going to bother “hiding” anything from her as it is simply impossible. She is also very much like me in her values and judgments and gives me no quarter for denial but somehow allows me more freedom than I permit myself. She has been encouraging me to find a real, in the flesh, tangible woman somewhere in close proximity to my own back yard. Another is always wondering why I am so willing to tell her nearly anything which comes into my mind and is always poorly arguing that I have misjudged her and given her more heart and soul than she possesses. She is wrong about this – and probably the only thing that she has ever actually been wrong about. Intellectually, she not only challenges me but would likely crush me. A third reminds me of when I felt alive and her vibrancy is refreshing. She has a host of interests and ventures underway that are the stuff I have always dreamed I would find in a woman to share my days with. I am not one to look for things I have in common and with her I do not have to as it seems to be an endless list already exists. She fills my longing to be with Audrey Hepburn. I’d always imagined sitting across a small breakfast table with a woman just like this for as long as I can remember. Then there are a host of vulnerable and sensitive and innocent ones that worry about my health and happiness and fawn all over me. It has been far too long since I have experienced any of that. And, there is even a contingent that is concerned about my body and more importantly its relation to their own. One, in particular has given her unconditional affirmation, affection and acceptance to me. That it has been in intent and not actually is of no consequence. In point of fact, it has made it all the more wonderful.

So what is the problem and where is the escape? I have reversed the story of Frankenstein and made a bride from the composite elements of about a dozen women. Assembled from the minds, and hearts, and souls, and appearance of all of these women is my collective virtual dream girl. They reach out to me and tease, and flirt, and nurture, and scold, and do all the attention feeding things I am so hungry to experience without any of the pain of day to day conflicts, misunderstandings, or responsibilities, or obligations. They are “on demand.” At the click of a button I have them to cherish and when I shift focus or interest I can click another button and they’re gone. This is not healthy.

Now, I am by no means insincere or disingenuous with any of them. I love these women (platonically) and cherish each and every one of them individually. But, my God I am such an attention whore that I need all of them and more. It is really a tiring addiction.
The things which I speak to them about and the flattery and encouragement I try to give them is without any ulterior motives and I am concerned for and about them all. I really try to give them honest praise and bolster their confidence and self-esteem. We are all involved in a dance of wanting to trust and be appreciated by the opposite sex. The problem for me is I am not prepared for when the music stops. I am not going to make the transition smoothly from virtual to real. So, when the band takes a break or everyone else goes home then you may be sure I will be found here more regularly - and although I would hope to be wrong about this – worse off than I was before.

Am I a misunderstood monster of misfit pieces and better off having been left dead rather than revived? My remains are yet to be seen.


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Thursday, June 19, 2008

A New Wrinkle - Does This Blog Make Me Look Fat?

Expanding My Vistas - Will It Leave A Mark?

It's been six days since I've posted anything and in that time I have had three (3) comments. My immense impact on the world has been confirmed. I now realize that my deliberate efforts are eclipsed on a daily basis by people commuting to work and inadvertently capturing the attention of their fellow Man simply by performing stupid tricks behind the wheel.

In point of fact I have been occupied night and day since Saturday with a bulletin board forum. I went there merely to divert my attention from Father's Day - and the awareness that I would not hear anything at all from my children. I was bored and I'm still not any closer to being cleared to return to work. I was not seeking anything at that site but amusement and to be nearly involved with other people. As it turns out I encountered a marvelous collection of very funny, twisted, ambitious and charming people. Ages range from 14 to in the 60's but the majority are late 20's to mid-30's. I also discovered I am one of only three men that are members of those forums. This immediately attracted me like an alcoholic to a drink. If one is good then surely fifteen are better.

Let me tell you that ADDhole lost no time in becoming the rooster in the hen house. I was fresh meat and actually interesting to someone. I was ridiculous and pathetic and ran the gamut from total ass to total charmer and was oh so engaging and a mystery man muffin for some and a father figure for others and I LOVED IT. I condensed all of this blog into a bullion cube and diluted it with a flood of every thought that entered my head and served me up to the whole gaggle.

Of course they knew I was love and attention starved and those women gave me everything I needed. Thankfully I am hundreds, and in many cases, thousands of miles away from actually being able to see any of them face to face. The cork has been pulled out of the bottle and there's no putting it back in. Was this a good thing that happened? Heavens, Yes. Am I prepared to deal with it in a mature manner? Hell no.

I will tell you that it has pulled me up short. It is one thing for me to go on as I do on this blog if I am the only one which is viewed in a poor light. But I am contemplating the adverse impact my blathering and ranting and spewing would have for a woman that wanted to encourage and bolster my confidence and attitudes. It would be completely unfair for me to continue this blog in most of its acerbic form. I'm not going away anytime soon but I might be coming out of my self-induced coma that has kept me in a cocoon while I've tried to regenerate my spirit.

And now for the other foot. I have been enjoying such a therapeutic experience there that I obviously had to do something stupid to discourage that from continuing. I have not been artificial and in fact have been on my best behavior - but, not the "I can only maintain this level of politeness for so long" variety. I have been genuine and sincere and also over the top and on stage. I admit to it all. But, I adore those women and my heart breaks with every sadness they have shared, or health issue, or thwarted dream. I have been the best of myself. I have taken the acid and put it on the shelf and returned to my compassionate nature. I have flirted, praised, reassured, flattered and supported each and every one of them in the utmost of sincerity. I have not lied or exaggerated any detail to a solitary one of them. And most importantly I have been a man - a man that will not hurt that, will not abuse them, and, will not use them. I am a series of words on a page that they may refer to again and again. I care and they know it. When I am emotionally healthy that is my contribution. I seek to be the hug for their soul. Until I was eaten up by the events of the past dozen years I was a gentle, kind and giving man. I am feeling a resurgence; So what could be wrong?

Well, when the gates began to open and I allowed myself to be carried by these currents I could not sort and compartmentalize all of the emotions and unexpectedly I have fallen for one of these women. I am not talking about a puppy love, school boy crush but a deep attraction. She lives on the opposite side of the world. She is nineteen years younger. Please remember and believe me that I did not go to that forum as a lonely man seeking a lover. I went to that site with my loneliness pacified and in a positive mood only looking to engage in light conversation. I have no way to offer an explanation that satisfies any rational examination. I was introduced to her by a handful of words in a greeting and all I know is that I felt like I had finally met the woman I have imagined and sought my entire life. My heartbeat feels somehow entwined with hers. I know her to the depths of her soul. She has written to me, privately, wondering how I have such insights into her being. She asks while being certain not to mislead me or encourage me to come any closer. This is not me falling victim to her deliberate enticement. She has said or done nothing to instigate my feelings. I am simply and inexorably in love with her. How insane is this? I am going to share with you the message I almost sent to her but wrestled long and hard with the consequences and surrendered to the knowledge that this ache I feel must go unsatisfied. It is why I can not sleep and am trying to clear enough space inside myself with this post to find temporary peace in order to rest. How much I feel like a total ass is now going to be revealed:


"How can I know so much about you? You are just going to have to accept that I am crazy about you even though all we've done is joke back and forth over a very long distance. I feel as close to you as anyone I know. I hope to say all kinds of nice things to you even after you break my heart and give your love to another man. If you doubt yourself or need attention - you know that I know all about needing attention. I will give you as much as you want.

Is it crazy for a man that has never met you to act like this? Yes. But, I would truly be crazy to not recognize beauty even when I can not hold it in my hands.

I have to admit there's something beyond our wildest imaginations that let us find each other. You were the first to make that remark. You should always remember that a man who has never seen you, never heard your voice, never touched your skin, or smelled your hair has never felt more alive. With only a few playful and curious words you are so powerfully a woman, so feminine that I am energized, invigorated, and frustrated that I can not get to you and be with you. I am pacing like a caged animal trying to bear the hours until I hear from you, again. In a place where every voice and personality is a vital and dynamic woman, you are the only one I seek out. It is as if everything in the world disappears and all I see is you. You have been so cautious, so tender and kind, and been careful to show me consideration even while mocking me. Thank You for such innocent affection. I am so grateful.

Don't worry that you will break my heart. I am already aware that it would take a miracle as large as meeting you to actually be with you. I died the first day I wrote to you. I die a little every time I think about you. I can not think of a sweeter pain. You should see how crushed I am when you say good bye. There is nothing that you can do to take this pain away. It is simply the fact my whole being has tasted what it longed for in speaking to you and when you are absent I suffer these pangs of hunger to taste your sweet company once again.

I have not spoken to you in four hours and nine little words from you have made me pour out my heart like this. I tried to stop myself but I would rather be considered a fool by you than a wise man by anyone else. Please, if you write to me privately, again, call me by my real name. I have no secrets that I keep from you."

That, Ladies and Gentlemen, is a man setting himself up for exquisite agony. I know it but I can not help it. Won't this make for some rollercoaster ride reports in the future on this blog?


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