The autumn

Today I have felt loneliness. I spent the entire day pouring myself into tasks relating to tEp's 2009 rush week. I cleaned, cooked, served, improvised, lied (allowed, it was the lie-off), and laughed along with the rest of the tEps here.

But every time I slowed down just for a moment, I felt that same sensation. Heartache, and deadness in the chest that is not merely numb, but empty and yearning to be filled. My thoughts keep flying downwind toward some gloved, delicate hand or another. I keep remembering the dread and excitement of the new year at college, with this same nip in the air. There's even high school, back there.

Today was bright and loud. In the kitchen I put in solid effort, constant, high-energy, strong, swift, clear-headed. It all felt good, the mechanical motion, the mindless, meditative absorption in the room, in the intent to make the room clean.

I kept jumping in, but I am powerfully aware that I am mostly an outsider of this group. Perhaps I'm getting too old for these people. Perhaps the death of my mother and then brushes with starvation on the street this summer have knocked me out of their world. It's different now than it was, and I'm different now than I was. But still, there is a powerful spark of togetherness with them. A few of them do hippy-esque things I agree with. Like dumpster diving.

Even my closest friends seem alien, like bureaucrats from a foreign government, all relating according to the Galactic Standard Protocol. With each, there is some small fragment of myself I share, in some cases share exclusively, with them. But the whole is alone.

A very rich man who is a friend of mine today said "life is simple. It's like 2 + 2 = 4, that simple. Get a job, pay for yourself. End of story".

But I want to be a massage therapist. Getting a job now is delaying that day, probably unnecessarily.

That is difficult to swallow. How could it be that my entire life I didn't see this thing, and now it is powerful enough to shake me out of my lifelong trap of antimotivation? What will become of me if my courage fails me now? What if my courage doesn't fail me, but my plan does, and I end up as a bum for the rest of my life?

Being on the street is enlightening. At least, I think it is. I feel like I can never fully catch my breath. I'm safe tonight, but OOPS! I'm on somebody's couch. This isn't right, I think, I shouldn't be using their couch forever.

Lots of thoughts - haven't been updating the blog often enough to properly put each thing out. I'm not gonna preview this - it's best if you read it just as I wrote it.