proteanme

Seems to me that being alive is about loving the impossibility of all or maybe the stupid improbability of it all. I’m nostalgic for the hope and heartbreak of looking for a magic answer. Those were the good ole days, man.

But I just might get my one week of summer out here.  It’s something like 95 degrees outside.  And that’s something.  That summer decided to come round just before fall creeps up on us.  Not that I’ve figured out when exactly fall happens.  Good lord, I really am an alien in this stunningly beautiful landscape.

God damn, I’m feeling heart broken these last couple days.  My therapist pointed out that I’ve been saying for a while that I wanna feel heart break — if heartbreak is what’s gonna come out of certain situations.  I just didn’t dwell a lot on how that might actually feel.  Working with my fears around flying has taught me a lot about not getting too caught up in anticipatory junk.  It’s funny, funny not being the right word at all, how your can feel so certain in your heart about some things, like loving Indiana, and how that love can’t move the mountains that make it impossible to do more than love it from a distance.  ANd me I’m not ready for loving those immovable mountains.

I’m confused and not feeling very sure about this process I am in. It is unlikely that ‘this process’ is really some finite thing with an ending marked by an event, like moving or embarking on a new career or getting married, etc. I’m worried that I’m fooling myself by talking about places and people being better fits when maybe really I’m just looking for some kind of answer, when an answer really doesn’t exist. I dunno that I am making any sense except to myself and maybe this is all a bunch of self indulgent clap trap and I should just find work that is aimed at alleviating other people’s suffering.