“To a cyclist,” he writes, “a [P]rius is just a small [H]ummer.”

Can’t we all fucking get over ourselves already? Not to jump to a conclusion, maybe it’s a joke. In short, I find it analgous to the lack of understanding the connection between racism and prejudice, whereas racism is culturally unacceptable but prejudice is still rampant.

Without a strong culture to affix oneself to, many seem to lose their sense of identity and with it their self-worth. “I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member” comes to mind. Short of taking the time and putting in the effort to figure out who we are, we rely on our culture to define us. Which then leads us to having to defend said culture, trading standing up for beliefs that aren’t our own for a sense of belonging, camaraderie, bro-dom.

Can who am I stand alone?

I think of the smiles on their face when they can’t help but show excitement, being so comfortable around me. What causes that excitement? What is important? Unknown adventure? Feeling of belonging? Being appreciated? Having created? Priorities are especially interesting because I’ve averaged being ahead of the curve. I say averaged though, because I broke off the well worn path many years ago.

Which is all to say perhaps that what I want today is rather simple, but appears to require an incredible amount of maturity to be able to be in close proximity to. While what I want tomorrow follows no accepted social trends.

Struggling to stay away, too exhausted to do much of anything. Lying in bed snuggling a pillow. Busy weekend, with a shed and a work bench coming out of it.. Not to mention parties, unpacking, etc.

As previously mentioned, I’ve squeezed in some not acting in regard to how you feel time. Which is, well, ultimately sad. But I guess, possibly how life has to be these days. It’s a lonely feeling. Bitten tongues lay at rest.

Got to spend some time today talking about identity, which is starting to ignite some new ideas in my mind about where my place is and why I don’t seem to quite fit right most of the time. Evangelion porcupine effect? Probably not, but the implication is a bit sad.

“are you going to start riding bikes again?”

“on the last dead baby ride this rook got yelled at for cutting off a tallbike”

See. This is why I’d rather build shit than be social. There is an interesing line between community and scenes. When you start having status – rooks, posers, prospets – it becomes more about your identity and belonging than building actual community.

It’s harder for me to not say how I feel than it is to say how I feel. I feel that’s the reverse of the norm. In my usual search of balance, I’ve been putting more thought it what doesn’t need to be said. Which is to say, that I have a lot to say but often it isn’t asked for, and I’ve been respecting that for what people ask it is indicative of much.

Yes, I am aware that in time, it will suck less. For now, it sucks.

This is sort of bugging me now. I’m thinking “what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger” is a better cliche than “time heals all wounds”.

Because you don’t wake up one day and everything is suddenly better, you wake up one day and realize in retrospect that life has gotten better. Little by little, by persevering, thinking, feeling, talking, living, you grow. Or maybe you don’t, if you suck. But it’s not waiting that makes it better, it’s doing those things even though it hurts to.

playing with mysql high availability is time consuming in a waiting and reading sort of way…

You know how a lightbulb turning on over your head is representative of getting something? I usually think more of an explosion coming out the side of my head, sort of like if a bullet was exiting it.

Five years ago I wrote a journal entry in which I expressed that I felt lonely. My girlfriend at the time was upset by this, and her mother agreed with her, that it presented the impression that she was a bad girlfriend because I felt lonely. Go look at that picture again to get an idea of how my brain reacted.

The point was at the time was that I felt lonely because I felt that the people I was hanging out with, my ‘friends’ weren’t really. I was disappointed by my friendships. That wasn’t conveyed, but that really wasn’t the problem. The bigger problem there, which turned out to be a trend, was that she was more concerned about how her friends might percieve her based on something I wrote in a public journal than about how I was feeling.

And sure, I’ll grant that I worry significantly less than the average about how my peer group perceives my feelings. Today I had to underscore in an email that the people that matter to me know how I feel because I’ve told them, and the people that may judge how I feel, don’t really matter to me. It really is as simple as not having the time to worry about the judgment of strangers. This isn’t really a soap box that I’ve carefully constructed out of wood of ideals. It’s how I’ve always been. Now, it is that soap box insofar as it’s been constructed from my experiences.

Which comes into an interesting rant about identity, and how it affects esteem. Which I really want to write but I don’t have the time to start.

After thinking about communication recently, I sort of have to sarcastically chuckle.

And you ask yourself
Well… how did I get here?

Context used to be a small problem, and now it is the problem. Because there’s not enough awareness to look for it, and it seems that most aren’t comfortable with how uncomfortable asking is. Maybe they simple don’t care? That is all fine, really, usually. Because for the most part people can move at their own pace, and that’s fine. The trouble is when it matters to my heart, which sometimes stomps around a little louder than I do.

The girl doesn’t exist.
She isn’t real.
She never was.

Ever wonder if Fred Gallagher has had a lot of counseling?

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

It’s interesting when a choice becomes a dichotomy between taking the high road, or turning away. You like to think that turning away is only temporary, but people change. On the chance they don’t, you have, and there is no going back. The idea that “I can’t deal with this now, but some day” really is “This is too difficult for me, and I have to pass up this opportunity”, carefully concocted into a consumable chunk.

Does time ever cure old wounds? Or do we actually always change and grow? I’m a thoughtful person, so I’m biased and can’t use myself as evidence, but I’ve deemed the expectation that time will make everything better bullshit. A coping mechanism for “replacing feelings with strippers” types.

Priorities are our choice, and you should take responsibility for your actions. Because the way things are, is the way you’ve chosen for them to be.

I’ve gotten better at recognizing situations where I have to let someone else make the next move, because so much more information about what they want comes forth in their choices than you can get by asking for it. “Actions speak louder than words”, but someone’s willingness to be vulnerable and express emotion speaks to their capabilities of handling intimacy. You simply cannot always be the one the steps forward and starts the conversation “I feel like..”

It’s a disappointing experience. We want those upon whom our affection is placed to want it. There’s a difference between waiting and being supportive. You can’t wait for something to happen, some day, living your life in the limbo of it getting better. Being supportive simply means being willing to go out of your way to help someone who asks for it. They have to ask for it themselves though. Really.

It’s worth emphasizing, perhaps because I’m in a bit of a bizarre state of possible unconsciousness at this very moment, that I mean this not in a tone of “pick yourself up an move on”.These aren’t my parting words as I go off to find a stripper. It is acknowledgement of the unfortunate reality that just as one’s goals can limit an otherwise happy relationship, one’s fear can as well.

After I spoke on this topic, and my acceptance of it, for a half hour today I was told “you seem very sad”. And I am, because it’s unfortunate. As I wrote about last night, I have something very special that I’m eager to share, but can’t find the place to set it down.

Seven years ago I drove to Defcon X in Las Vegas from Maine in an aluminum Postal Service step-van I had bought off ebay. I had two friends with me, and two of us voted that the third shouldn’t drive too much. Consequently, the remaining drivers had a lot of sleep deprived hours spent in the cab. To make matters more interesting, his girlfriend of some number of years had broken up with him, and as it turned out she had feelings for me. I was a bit surprised by this, and had very little relationship experience to boot. Struggling tremendously with my own growth, another relationship brewing, and stuck in the middle of the two of them, I suddenly found myself with fewer friends I could talk to. Once at our hotel we set up wireless in our room with an IRC server. The three of us ended up chatting with each other, while sitting with our laptops in the same room, and the topic of his ex-girlfriend came up again. When I look back at that time, I recall preferring to talk to others online and wanting to be talking over IRC. It was more natural for me at the time. I could think, respond, backspace, correct.

Years later I had a long term relationship with more downs than ups. She preferred sitting down and talking, but I preferred email because I could keep on subject and track by re-reading points. I was comfortable talking by then, but I had a really difficult time understanding where she was going. In retrospect a lot of that was because her logic was flawed and self-centered for her own survival, while simultaneously touting how self-less she was, likely as an internal diversion.

And now I find myself more eager to hold someone and talk than ever before. It’s a trend I don’t see reversing. I have so very much to say and share, but nobody special in my life to receive it. Some that I’m close to, is because we used to date and it is unfair to put them in that place. One it isn’t unfair, but they’re unwilling recipients because they aren’t comfortable to open themselves up to be that vulnerable. Another likely has no idea how much I want to share with them, but I fear it’s too inappropriate without greater context to let them know. Friends and family can listen, and we can bond, but I yearn for something more personal, perhaps, unique, and special.

So for different reasons, my heart is full of unwritten letters stamped return to sender before the ink is dry.

I’ve often been accused of coming on strongly, and personal discussions over the last month have drawn a decent circle around the cause of this. My feelings are articulated verbally in a way that is uncommon. The thing is, that at the core of this is not a beast to be burdened, but a gentle heart looking to give. That comes off a little corny, but I stand behind it. I have good things to offer, and if they’re difficult to accept, I’m more than happy to be supportive along the way.

Which is, to say, I’m here to listen, and only want those around me to find real happiness. How is it that I so often find that my supportive nature is treated like it’s veiled expectations? “What’s up?” means exactly what it sounds. One doesn’t need to read between any lines with me. One simply needs to tell me how they feel.

2 : resulting from or typical of a bashful nature

I’ve sort of failed recently at communicating effectively in a particular context, and I’ve been thinking a little bit about why.

I think when I’m full of smiles and life seems pretty good, I sort of forget that I need to do anything about it. Which is both awesome, and probably not all that effective at the same time. Because in the latter case, things that likely should be being said, or communicated, aren’t. Which isn’t to say that I should stress about communicating, but it is interesting to recall sitting with a big dumb grin on my face this weekend.