After nice weather was abruptly ended during my commute home with a downpour, I searched a bit for some place new to eat on Yelp, including a brief review of Squid’s comments, once again reminding me that I am not most people, and in fact am often upset by the priorities of most people. In the end, Tori and I ventured out in warmer clothes under drier skies for dinner at Smarty Pants for chow. Somehow field roast gets you drunk. So it goes.

I distinctly separate the things I think and the things I feel into two parts of me. While they affect each other, I’ve come to accept my feelings as a part of me that changes over time in reaction to experiences, but that I don’t change. On the other hand, I believe that the things I think are open for reinterpretation and manipulation to progressive ends.

I made the comment over the weekend that I view my father’s stoicism with negative feelings. I express the way I feel, and more often than not worry mostly about other people having to deal with the consequences of my feelings. Thinking back to early relationships, I remember years going by of not telling people of how I felt. Out of fear? Probably feelings of insignificance. Not probably, definitely. For those that feel and haven’t constructed complex defense mechanisms, or even those that have, the vulnerability of these kinds of feelings are awfully strong. Distracting, disorienting.

I never got over transgressions by my first girlfriend. It took me a while to come to terms with that. That may be why I have a problem with being stoic, I’m prone to it, and don’t feel okay about it. I don’t ask a lot of girlfriends, mostly I want them to like me and want to be around me. I’ll never have the skills/tricks/ability to manipulate a situation otherwise. I say that because of how I feel.

I’m an independent person though. I take care of myself and I have no expectations of anyone else doing anything for me. That’s as black and white as it gets. I get the benefit of appreciating what does get done for me because of it. The cons? Loneliness? I don’t know. I’ve never been any other way, it’s hard to say. Perhaps that I end up in dramatic situations more often than I should? I hold on too long?

Perhaps it doesn’t matter in the end. I will continue to do what I do, even when it’s one step forward, two steps back, because I simply don’t know any other way to act. I’m honest and straight forward, perhaps to a fault. You do the things that feel right, and do what needs to be done. Perhaps that’s ever bit a part of where I come from.