Fitness To Purpose

For the past few hours I’ve been listening to Nitzer Ebb, starting with That Total Age. I was determined to finally use the bicycle trainer tonight and I guessed That Total Age would keep me inspired to keep pushing the pedals. And I was right — it’s just about the perfect soundtrack for that type of workout. Not just the beat but even the lyrics are just the right fit, all that chanting about body awareness — even if the lyrics might be aiming for irony, such as in “Murderous”: “Much better now/We’re stronger now…”



But it was the steady beat and the lyrics to “Fitness To Purpose” that I found — how else can I put it? — fucking inspiring. I mean, literally fucking inspiring: “In a battle/In the bed” set against a steady repetitive synth bassline and percussion, “The heat of flesh/And the mark on your lips/And the salt on your lips.” I intend to find the accurate lyrics to this album…or perhaps I shouldn’t? Maybe if I knew the actual lyrics I wouldn’t be inspired as I am now when I’m hearing the lyrics



Aching between us
And the bodies flow
And the bodies twist



as my mind conjures visions of a couple locked like two lions in an erotic battle,

Your head falls back
Your hair falls back
To the pillow
To the heat
To the pillow
To the heat
To ecstasy
To ecstasy
Ecstasy

The battleground
Ecstasy
The battleground

It’s a sexy song, one that utlilizes violent imagery — perhaps war — as a metaphor for lovemaking. The word murder is thrown into the mix as it relates to war but it could also imply the “little death” that is orgasm. It’s not a disturbing song, in my opinion. 



Anyway, it keeps me pumping the pedals of my bicycle.



And we’ll do it again

We’ll do it again







Posted in fitness, Fitness To Purpose, inspiration, Murderous, music, Nitzer Ebb, sex, song, That Total Age | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Passion for Writing…Online

I’ve been associated with a group of writers in Huntsville for a few months now, the Rocket City Bloggers. Now before I say anything else, allow me to make a confession: I didn’t always consider bloggers to be writers. In fact, I even hesitated (yet only for a few moments) to use the term writers in the first sentence of this paragraph. Old habits die hard. Fortunately, I snapped back to sanity and let the term remain.

The term bloggers often conjures legions of wannabe writers, many of them really bad writers, posting like, um, really really mundane, like, stuff — stuff that very few besides themselves and perhaps some very close friends and family would want to spend time reading. Of course, this view of bloggers has altered somewhat — quite a bit actually — though there are still many who misperceive the efforts of some very diligent bloggers out there in what we bloggers refer to as the blogosphere.

The activity of blogging has been around for well over a decade now. At first, it wasn’t referred to as blogging; it was simply categorized as personal websites or online journals until enough people began recognizing common characteristics of these particular forms of web properties and began referring to them as web logs. Soon after, the term web log — as happens with many online activities — was shortened to simply blog. 



Even with the new moniker blogs still largely remained the province of a few select tech/geek writers, tweens, and teenagers posting mainly to keep their peers informed of their activities. As the popularity of blogs grew, marketers jumped in and posted and pitched their product(s) mainly by including more advertisements than useful or well-constructed content. When the media noticed the rise of blogging, they typically described blogs in the way they initially described (and still do on occasion) Twitter: meaningless drivel and mundane remarks better left unsaid or shared off-line (such as in personal diaries).


As better writers begin to take up blogging — both to improve and practice their writing skills and to demonstrate their potential to employers and/or publishers — and as “real” journalists began blogging, news organizations began to become less dismissive of blogging, eventually even adding their own blogs to their media properties. As a result, blogs began to become taken more seriously, eventually emerging as serious contenders to the traditional media outlets.

 Blogs became mainstream.

Fast forward to today. Blogs are now essential to nearly every business, particularly if that business wants to communicate with their customers or offer some level of transparency (a business tactic which has become popular in recent years). Not only writers but artists of all types maintain blogs in order to share their music, visual art, films — every imaginable form of artistry — to their fans and potential consumers of their works. People post their writings online to aid them in achieving their goals, such as the woman who posts online to motivate herself to exercise. Others are passionate about concerns related to their profession, such as the teacher who blogs about his struggles communicating with his community’s school board.

And as more writers — whether professional writers or those taking up the craft for purposes other than writing for writing’s sake — took up blogging, some very excellent blogs began to fill up the blogosphere.


I probably first noticed blogs (or whatever they were known as) sometime in the 90s, but I must admit I didn’t think much of them then. I figured I could whip up a website that was just as good as or better than most of these journals I was coming across — and I probably could have at the time. It wasn’t until the turn of the millenium that I began to notice some truly remarkable blogs, as companies such as Blogger, Greymatter and Movable Type arrived on the scene with their blogging services. Forget about the writing for a moment; the blogs that came about due to these services were gorgeous. These new services offered a decent variety of attractive templates to choose from (which themselves were customizable), they had add-ons for features not previously offered, and they could be hosted on web hosts that made them essentially distinct from the companies offering the services — a feature the earliest blogging platforms weren’t offering.


It was no longer an immediately feasible possibility for me to whip up a website that could match the quality and features of these new blogs without learning a bit of programming beyond simple HTML and CSS. I would have to learn a scripting language such as PHP or Perl in order to produce a decent blog now, and I wasn’t yet in the mood to accomplish that. So I finally gave in and set up my first blog using Blogger. It was thrilling to have my first blog up within minutes and to be able to publish my first and subsequent posts without having to become a computer programmer. And thus, my passion for blogging began.



A few years ago I ran a few blogs at once, posting words and pictures and audio and video. Today I run one blog which I post to rarely (this one) but I also share my thoughts on Facebook, I post to the recently-released Google+, and yes, I tweet to Twitter. Some may have doubts about my referring to the content I post on the social networks I’ve mentioned as blogging, but trust me, my passion for writing on the web has moved from the traditional personal blog to more prolific posting to these various social networking sites. 



There’s no doubt in my mind that what I’m doing on Facebook and Google+ (and even Twitter) is blogging (though on Twitter it’s rightfully referred to as microblogging). Though my tweets are tiny nuggets of information or personal thoughts, I carefully consider and craft my tweets so as to improve my online relationships and business opportunities (on one of my Twitter accounts, at least — another is reserved for personal, uncensored and off-the-cuff remarks). On Facebook, I often write essays that match posts like this one, and I certainly post at least one well-constructed thought or conversation starter on the network nearly every day. I do the same with Google+ but with one major difference: I reserve Google+ for posts that are entirely professional — that is, I leave my Google+ account open for anyone to read, and deliberately compose posts related to my career and relationship-building ambitions (whereas my Facebook account is closed to the public and full of highly personal posts I wouldn’t want potential employers to read).






Writing online — through blogging, tweeting, and simply posting on various social network platforms and even online forums — has become a serious passion of mine. I believe — in fact, I know — that all of my writing efforts online have translated into improved relationships, networking that has resulted in business opportunities, and ultimately improved my writing and even marketing skills. As I write this, I have in the back of my mind a new writing opportunity I feel all of my blogging experience has prepared me for: when the sun comes up today, I will began work toward a position blogging for a popular tech-oriented website, and my experience there will improve my portfolio for future writing jobs.

So if writing is your passion but you’d like to improve your skills in the craft, or if you’re satisfied with your writing skills but would like to exercise your craft in a different forum, or if you have a particular concern or a desire for self-improvement or you have artwork you’d like to showcase to a wider audience, you may wish to try writing online. You don’t have to be a talented writer nor an expert web developer to start up a blog or join a social network and begin writing and publishing your words online. If nothing else, the activity will improve your ability to communicate and — as happened with me — you may discover an unexpected passion for writing…online.

Posted in Blogger, blogging, blogs, goals, Greymatter, Movable Type, observations, Rocket City, web services, writing | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Holidays are for Heathens

We’re all a bunch of heathens this time of year. Once the fall season arrives we begin planning our annual ritual of overspending, overeating and overwhelming ourselves and others. We start with the “training wheels” of holidays, Halloween, buying up by the cartload candy for the kids (making certain to keep half for ourselves) and dressing up in sometimes-splendid displays of our inner egos. Don’t get me wrong — I love Halloween, and in fact have declared it to be my favorite holiday for years — but for my purposes here I’d like to shine an honest light on the occasion and its more traditionally worshipped siblings.

Though Halloween has undoubtedly been growing in terms of popularity and commerciality since it was introduced in the early part of the twentieth century, the holiday is still mainly an appetizer for the main courses to follow. Other than some fabulously hedonistic partying it is not quite as ambitious as those “heartwarming” and potentially healing occasions, Thanksgiving and Christmas. The days surrounding Halloween aren’t populated with quite as many family reunions (I must admit however that I did attend one last year, though the primary occasion was for my uncle’s sixtieth birthday). There are fewer expressions of goodwill toward others. Soup kitchens aren’t yet warming up the cookers; the Salvation Army is not yet ringing its bells in front of grocery store entrances.

Once the candy is distributed and the costumes are put away, however, the hedonistic impulse begins in earnest. My inner Ebenezer wants to blast the holidays — particularly Christmas — right off the calendar face just for their commercial crassness. Yet I’m no Scrooge. For one thing, I have no money — no savings to hoard (I have $6.98 in my bank account as I’m writing this and no checks on the way to being deposited) nor do I have that compulsion for overworking (as I am chronically unemployed) that could make me despise others for not being fiscally responsible at this time of year. “I don’t make merry myself at Christmas and I can’t afford to make idle people merry” is not my defining remark. I actually enjoy this time of year.

In fact, I often love the holiday season, particularly around Thanksgiving and the days surrounding Christmas. It is not entirely cynicism that compels me to place the term heartwarming in quotes (see the preceding paragraph). I do actually see much greatness in the season and agree with my fellow blogger Kristen in humanity’s “utterly beautiful and utterly underdeveloped ability to be good to each other in ways great and small.” But I do believe that the holiday season has become a sickeningly disingenuous repurposing of nostalgia toward both corporate profit and private self-satisfaction. In my opinion the holidays are more often heartbreaking than they are heartwarming.

And let me also be clear: I am not opposed to businesses taking the the opportunity to drum up some extra revenue this time of year. After all, the economy doesn’t take a break during the nine or so months we do not traditionally refer to as “the holidays.” Advertising is a year-round business and we are urged to consume an endless array of unnecessary products nearly every hour of our lives — every minute, for those of us glued to our digital media devices.

Yet advertising’s tone takes on particular urgency during the holidays, and at no other time of the year are we so brutally made aware of our personal financial circumstances. “Daddy don’t want no cologne“ one particular big-box electronics chain’s commercial declares, and though I found myself smiling the first time I caught the advertisement — perhaps because I’m no fan of cologne — subsequent viewings have left a disturbing impression upon me. Nowhere is the dichotomy between the haves and the have-nots so clearly and immodestly expressed than in holiday (and particularly Christmas) advertisements.

Yet it’s not commercialism alone that has me growling Humbug! So many of us try so desperately to heal old wounds this time of year, and unfortunately, so many of us fail. Some fail because they aren’t truly sincere in their attempts at, say, resolving interpersonal relationships. Though we love to sing “Auld Lang Syne” on New Years, should auld acquaintance really be forgot? It’s perhaps unrealistically optimistic — and in many cases, emotionally unhealthy and potentially damaging to all parties involved — to sweep old grievances under the carpet rather than make an earnest effort at addressing them.

Most of us fail not due to a lack of sincerity, however, but because we place unrealistic expectations on ourselves and everyone else around us. Desperate to re-enact the holidays of our childhood, we buy decorations and gifts we cannot afford in the hopes of injecting solace into our loved ones’ (and our own) hearts. We begin mailing cards and placing phone calls to friends and family we haven’t communicated with in ages only to be disappointed when our expressions of gratitude or love (or simply acknowledgement) aren’t received in the ways we’d hoped or if our loved ones don’t feel the same urgency at joining us in our projects of reconciliation.

So what’s to be done? Do I recommend quitting Christmas and Kwanzaa and Hanukkah? Am I advocating an end to the self-satisfying rituals that seem to now define the “spirit” of the season? Do I wish that the gluttonous occasions, Halloween and Thanksgiving, be abandoned? Should New Year’s Day be dropped like the ball in New York City?

No. I’m a heathen just like most everybody. The difference between most others and myself, however, is that I’m honest about it. Most people, regardless of their endless quest to please others (the quest itself undertaken in order to please themselves), justify their behavior because it’s “in the spirit of the season”. Let’s be honest here, though: there’s nothing spiritual about the great majority of activities we engage in during the holidays. It’s purely for pleasure, and rarely is that pleasure ultimately anything other than self-serving.

That’s okay, though. Embrace the hedonistic impulse — come January, we can all get back to taking our preferred spiritual medications to get over the hangovers and get back to living our charitable and luxury-free lifestyles.

Posted in expectations, falling, fantasy, holidays, honesty, observations, religion, shopping, spirituality | Tagged | 2 Comments

Remapping My Brain

My friend Suzanne encourages anyone in their mid-30s to consider going back to school: “It remaps your brain and reenergizes your thinking process.” I did exactly what Suzanne is prescribing, returning to school in 2007 after an extended leave of absence from anything that could be referred to as a productive lifestyle. Productive or not, I “studied” during those less-than-ambitious years prior to returning to school; I’ve always been inclined toward acquiring knowledge in one form or another and spent a considerable measure of time during those idle years researching and even attaining what some would call expertise in certain subject areas. My education was informal and undisciplined, however, and after having been chronically unemployed for a number of years I finally found the impetus to enroll in a class at a community college near my apartment in California with the intention of learning how to use a computer software application I had the desire to understand but hadn’t mustered the drive to master on my own.

Within a year of enrolling in the class I found myself transitioning from scarcely challenging computer application studies into more strenuous computer programming coursework, and a year after that I realized I had gathered enough academic units to consider working toward achieving a Certificate of Achievement in Computer Programming through the college’s Computer Science Department. This was an outcome I’d hardly expected when I’d initially enrolled in that one computer class in 2007.

Fast-forward to 2011. I’ve yet to obtain that certificate — life’s winds have carried me far from California and I’ve distracted myself with other objectives — but I continue to formally education myself through both local community college coursework in my new hometown and through distance education programs. Having recently turned 40, I’m increasingly worrying about where all this formal education is leading. When I first moved to Alabama I seriously considered graduate school, applying to a college determined to transition my computer programming skills into the ever-evolving field of library and information science. I’m not entirely certain what stopped me from enrolling in the program: concerns about entering the field at this late age, concerns about how to finance my education, concerns about whether or not I was entirely interested in the field…all of these concerns (along with others) in one way or another convinced me to put the brakes on grad school. Had I found the will to enroll in the program, I’d be nearing completion soon.

Though education is still vitally important to me — and I feel that I’ll continue enrolling in courses from time to time throughout the rest of my life, even if completely unrelated to whatever career I eventually choose to pursue — I sometimes feel I’ve wasted the past four years acquiring knowledge and skills I’m not entirely certain I wish to exercise daily in order to pay the bills. It’s true that I’ve long been interested in technology and while working toward my bachelor’s degree during my 20s I discovered that I had more than a passing interest in computers. In fact, I was obsessed with my Macintosh — so much so that I often found it difficult to pull myself away from my computer long enough to engage in the literary studies I needed to complete in order to obtain my degree in English. Had I then taken more seriously my interest in computers it probably would have been wise for me to prepare for a future computer science graduate school application by enrolling in mathematics courses rather than the overwhelmingly humanities-related courses I opted for as electives. Yet I don’t regret my undergraduate path for it’s provided me with not only an appreciation for literature but a rediscovery of a craft I’d much enjoyed as a child but had forgotten my enjoyment of until college: writing. And I’m not sure I still have as much passion for computers as I once did.

All of this leads me to wonder: had I followed my passion for computers while in my 20s and pursued a degree in some aspect of the computer sciences would I today be more consistently employed and happy? I’m not so certain…for I no longer even know if I want to live my life attached to computers (except for when I’m writing or editing, of course). Yet all is not lost. As I continue my studies in the computer sciences, I retain hope that I will one day find a way to combine all of my educational history into a career path I will be equipped for and, most importantly, be happy in pursuing. Perhaps I will be able to combine my enjoyment of writing with the skills I’ve picked up in my studies of the computer sciences. I’m still interested in computers, no doubt. I just don’t know if I’m dedicated to the study of computers enough to continue investing my life into researching their utilization beyond their general application to the craft of writing and other uses outside the field of computer science.

While I’m deciding I’ll keep studying, re-mapping my brain and hopefully re-energizing my thinking toward achieving a career, and a life, fulfilled.

Posted in accomplishments, careers, computers, education, observations, work, worrying, writing | 3 Comments

“You Need to Learn to Communicate”…

…though it’s actually me that needs to learn. Before I begin spoon feeding advice on how best to be a friend, I must check myself. Once again I’ve been a rotten friend, allowing disappointment to lead to frustration, followed by insults and name calling, creating bad blood where there was hardly a relationship to begin with.

Why I keep doing this is beyond me. Or is it? Do I create drama because I’m so immature that I need some measure of turbulence in order to feel alive? I’m a passionate person, certainly, so this is entirely possible. But how in the world could I possibly not know this about myself at this age?

Because I do know myself. I do know that I’m a passionate person, passionate in my approach to life, in my approach to friendships…when I meet someone I feel a connection with, I immediately jump, pulling out all the stops. At risk of overwhelming said friend.

“Passionate” is a cop out, though. I’m emotionally immature and unstable. Saying I’m passionate has a nice ring to it; it re-scripts events as if I was merely acting out a potentially admirable aspect of my personality. But passion, when it comes to this case, does not properly describe my behavior. I was mean. I was creepy. I was destructive, both to myself and to this blossoming friendship.

To put it plainly, I felt hurt, and so I hurt in return. My friend said she wasn’t dating; I should have accepted this but would not. So what happens? I begin to assert my will, following her obsessively (online, not in person) and going so far as to leave a gift on her doorstep (in person). To be fair to myself, the gift was more intended as an offering of friendship and respect. I didn’t want her to feel cheap. I wanted her to know that I cared. Still, I must be completely honest here: I also harbored hopes of resuming an erotic relationship.

I’m an honest person. So I’ll state that though I’m writing this knowing it will provide me with some insight on my behavior, I’m also hoping my friend will stumble upon this and learn a little about why I’ve been such a creep.

Creep. It’s a word I’ve been returning to a lot lately. It’s like a self-fulfilling declaration: I state that I’m a creep and then proceed to become one in the eyes of myself and others. My best friend told me, just the other night, that I become obsessed with “things”; I dug a bit deeper, “People, you mean?” She agreed but clarified that I wasn’t simply obsessing on people. “You get obsessed with things. Things you shouldn’t get obsessed with. Why can’t you get obsessed with the things you need to become a better person? Why can’t you get obsessed with finding work, with forwarding your career?”

And it’s true. My best male friend says it’s not so much obsession as sensitivity; he knows I’m a lover and want to be loved by someone. Someone besides myself. He almost forgives me for acting out this way with my newest friend. But then I tell him I messaged her, in a moment of heated frustration, that she was indeed as cold as her ex-husband had declared her to be. That might have done it, he tells me, though not in those particular words. He means that I undermined any chance I had at achieving a more constructive closure, one that might leave me with the hope of reconciliation while properly and rationally explaining to the girl my behavior. “I don’t know what to tell you”, he says.

Returning to this (nearly) psychotic state of frustration is a pattern of mine; I seem to fall in lust (I want to say “love” but it’s simply not rational) quickly, entirely, and the result is always disappointment and sadness. In between occurs a rage that I find profoundly disturbing. Just when I begin to feel good about myself I find myself pissing on someone I hardly know (and in this latest scenario can’t be said to know at all, aside from our momentary intimacy). It is disgusting; it’s Jekyll and Hyde all over again.

Perhaps this latest episode will prompt me to write more; something good has to come out of this.

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Sunny With A Chance Of Recovery

Fifty degrees Fahrenheit. Sunny with highs expected in the upper sixties, zero chance of rain. Today’s the day I finally get under her and perform a proper diagnosis, find out what’s troubling the old girl. Examine her belly, her aching parts. Fill her with fresh fluids, flush her swollen intestines. See if I can find out why she’s been expelling so much gas.

Hot coffee and cigarettes and I’m a Saturday mechanic again, beginning my weekend work a couple of days early. No sense waiting for the cold to return. It’s been a strange season of weather in the Tennessee Valley and anything can happen: cold from the north, tornadoes from the west…it’s best to get out there and work with my hands before the air is wet and freezing again. Besides, it’ll keep me from chain-smoking; it’s hazardous to your health to smoke under a car reeking of fuel. If I time things right I can make the remaining cigs last just until midnight and then call it the end of this season of nicotine.

It’s also difficult to sleep under a car when she’s smelling so bad. I need to keep out of bed and this type of work is good for that. And successful or not in my project, at least I’ll know more about my girl. I’ll have a deeper relationship with her, a more substantial feel for what’s been causing her own disturbing behavior. At the least I’ll have a greater appreciation for the professionals who perform these examinations for a living.

Hot cereal next, a banana and perhaps some more coffee. Then my lady rolls onto the Rhinos and I’ll lay a tarp under her. Gloves and mask fitted, bucket at the ready, I’ll wrench some of her plugs and drain her fluids, keeping my eyes open for any wounds in her fragile body. Perhaps I’ll have some luck and will be able to mend her. One way or another I’ll start her on the road to recovery.

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Bluebirds

My tiny heart is ready to burst just from the fact that you chirped in my direction. You’re sick with a stomach flu. I’m sick with heartache. We’re a couple of invalids. Of course, we’re not a pair at all, we are forever disjoined. Yet as I watch the bluebirds drop from their perches onto the sunny grass below, plucking their morning fruit, I can’t help but hope these two aviators will one day fly in tandem again.

But that’s just my dream, my fantasy in flight. It has no bearing on reality and I’ll restrain myself from attempting to force the fantasy to fruition. I’ll write about it here or privately in my mind. I didn’t stop myself from emailing you to let you know about my first success out of the nest but maybe I’ll find enough willpower to keep myself from sharing future triumphs. Today, however, I am appreciating your reply — the little greeting you chirped, acknowledging you still hear my own little songs no matter how far away we fly from each other.

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Decisions, Decisions

I’m finally becoming more socially engaged and it’s beginning to open some doors for me. A young woman in my Linux class who I’d probably exchanged no more than a few words with last semester is now helping me in my job search effort. It was one of those synchronic (I’m not sure that’s the right word but I’m sticking with it until I can think of a better one) moments. The first day of this semester our new instructor asked us each to introduce ourselves and talk about our experiences with Linux and computers in general. I took this as an opportunity to get to know my fellow students better; all of them were in last semester’s class but I’d only interacted with a few of them and so only knew a few of their names. So I listened carefully to everyone’s introductions and took note of their names. I also recorded a few details that I might like to remember at some point. The young woman I mentioned before, for example, turned out to work for HiWAAY, an information services company I had not heard of but which sounded like the type of operation I might like to find out more about, so I wrote the name of the company next to her name in my notebook.

I’m glad I’d paid attention, too. Within a week or so I noticed the name of the lady’s employer again: a job listing on Craigslist. Kind of coincidental, I thought. Soon after that I noticed the same company’s job listing while digging through a job search engine another friend in class had told me about. Fate? I applied for the job. Some time went by; I considered mentioning my application to the young woman in class in the hopes she might be able to put me in touch with someone at her company, someone close to the hiring process. But I stalled. I kept digging for other job opportunities. I applied for other jobs. The college was closed one day due to another shower of snow. Then one day last week I finally asked this woman if she wouldn’t mind forwarding my résumé to someone at her company; she gave me her email address and told me she would bring my application to her manager’s attention.

Then yesterday I received an email from a manager at Apple, another company I’d recently applied for. I’m invited to meet with a recruiter in March. This places the other (and perhaps any other) job prospect on the back burner; I’ve long imagined myself working for the famous/infamous computer company and wouldn’t want to blow the opportunity now that I’ve finally received a response from a Cupertino corporate citizen. A long time Mac user/addict, I’ve applied more than once for job openings at Apple in years past and want to keep myself available in case I can somehow manage to work my way into the company. I haven’t yet sent my résumé to my new friend so today in class she asked me about it. I told her the truth: I was holding off on sending it because it’d been a long-time fantasy for me to work for Apple.

My friend completely understood but made the suggestion that I go ahead and fire off the résumé; she’ll tell her manager I won’t be available until March. I think that’s a good strategy but I really hope I don’t screw up my opportunity with Apple. I can see it now: I begin working for my friend’s company and then find myself sitting with a recruiter from Apple, asking about my availability. I’d hate to have to ditch the first job; I don’t know if my abandonment would make my new friend look bad but I’m not sure it’s a chance I’d want to take. This may be my only opportunity to begin a career with Apple. So I’m thinking it’s best for me to focus on my meeting with Apple before ramping up my efforts at landing the other job. In the meantime I’ll continue my classwork and begin educating myself on some of the areas of Apple’s operating system and application I’d like to feel more confident in before meeting with the recruiter.

Decisions, decisions. It’s nice to finally have some to make.

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Goodbye, Angel

I’ll always miss dreaming with you.

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Exorcising The Demon

There are many ways to mend a broken heart; one way is to face the truth and write about it. Though my version of the truth may end up being judged unacceptable by the lady involved — all people see things differently — I believe that writing about recent events and all the things that led up to them will help me in getting through this. I’m hoping it will also help my friend to understand, to some degree, my recent cruelty. In any case I have to exorcise this demon so that I can move on; I hope it helps this woman in a similar manner.

I’ve been longing for my former lover these past several weeks. I’ve been pining for her, aching for her, but pushing all thoughts of reconnecting with her to the back of my mind. We had agreed to quit communicating, for the most part, and so I’d been trying my best to maintain some distance. This past week I couldn’t hold it in any longer, choosing to reach out to the woman. One way was through this blog. I’d blogged about my relationship with this friend before but was reluctant to do so again until I could be certain I was healthier and stronger and able to maintain my composure with her. One of the reasons for our agreed-upon silence had been due to my incessant and pestering curiosity about her dating activities; she’d been bothered by my questions concerning her New Year’s date so I finally agreed that it was a good idea to quit conversing altogether. (More on this later.)

Writing about her would only push all thoughts of her to the front of my mind and I was having enough difficulty as it was keeping myself from obsessing over our failed relationship. I couldn’t begin writing about her without tapping into all this pain. There was another reason I didn’t blog about my former lover, though: my ex-girlfriend. I didn’t post all the thoughts I’d been having about my former lover because I was concerned with the feelings of the woman I had lived with for more than a decade (and was still living with, though no longer involved with amorously). I didn’t think it was necessary for the woman who had taken care of me for so long to be further injured by my mentioning the other woman too often; she had already been hurt and betrayed enough by my transgressions. Though I was no longer either woman’s lover I tried to maintain peace in the household I was sharing with one woman by being relatively discrete about the other.

Nevertheless, I wanted my former lover to know that I was still carrying a torch for her. There is another blog I communicate with her through, something private I’ve set up for her to access when she wants to. I posted a song to the private blog, something I’d recently heard for the first time in years and then purchased on eMusic so that she would have a decent copy to listen to on occasion. It was a very special song, the lyrics speaking just what I felt I needed to say to her, but I’m not entirely sure she listened to it. I don’t post to the private blog often, only when I have something important I wish to share with her, and I can only hope she takes the time to listen to or view the content I post for her. I put a lot of effort into my communiqués with the lady but I’ve no way of knowing how much effort she puts into receiving them; she may have simply read the lyrics and assumed she’d gathered the meaning. But for me, the tone of the song expressed its meaning just as much as its lyrics; the words read alone could not deliver the essence of the message the way the singer and her musicians have. It needs to be listened to, not simply read.

When I related to her the importance of the song, she let me know that she would listen to it but seemed more interested in indicating to me her refusal to maintain her silence any longer. I was both ecstatic and distressed by this — and just a bit confused. This seemed to go against what she had previously desired; we’d stopped communicating, in part, because she’d felt it was necessary to do so. (If my memory serves me fairly, I’d originally rejected the idea but had soon after accepted it. It may’ve been the other way around — maybe I’d initially proposed the idea — but I’m nearly certain it was the lady’s idea originally. Regardless whose idea it was, at one point or another it was mutually agreed upon.) Even in her silence she would still send me a message from time to time letting me know she was still reading my blog(s) but for the most part we hadn’t been maintaining anything resembling a conversation. (For example, a couple of weeks ago she’d sent me a link to something she’d posted on Facebook she had wished to share with me; we’re no longer connected through the social networking site so anything she’s doing there is unknown to my curious eyes.) Aside from these few messages there hadn’t really been any conversations between us — just flashes of light from the lighthouses of our hearts.

Unable to resist any longer, I sent her an email, then another. I hadn’t been hearing from her for a couple of weeks so my messages were both describing my latest private writings — correspondences of the heart I’d been writing but wasn’t certain would ever be published to my blog(s) — and to let her know she was still in my thoughts, my heart. She acknowledged my message enthusiastically, explaining her gratitude for my contact. Apparently she’d been wanting to contact me but felt her communications might be unwelcome or hurtful to me. She still loved me, was unhappy that we hadn’t worked out. As mentioned before, she also wanted to break the silence: I’ll understand if I don’t hear from you again but I don’t want it…the silence. I halfheartedly mentioned it might not be wise but knew that I also wanted to remove the silencer from our hearts. Yet in the end, the resumption of our commune with each other turned out to be injurious. Many of the things I’ve learned since we began chatting again have turned out to disappoint my longing heart; it’s become painfully obvious that I can’t handle knowing certain things about my former lover’s current circumstance. And yet I’m kinda glad I know some things I hadn’t known before; I feel vindicated for some of my jealousy (though not for the way I reacted once I learned my jealousy was more or less valid).

I hate myself for behaving this way. I’ve become mean and resentful, hateful even — this most recent rant is merely a shadow of the rage I recently expressed to the lady in a series of text messages. I never intended to lash out at her but I’m unhappy and terribly pained by her betrayal; I found my inhibitions loosen one night and a friendly chat transformed into an ugly lashing. The medicine I’d taken that night helped loosen my tongue but I can’t continue blaming my acting out on chemicals; I’m insecure and unstable with my emotions, unequipped to appropriately cope with these latest feelings. I raged, haphazardly and quite belligerently, unforgiving in my frustration with the lady, delivering accusations and a wrath I know will be difficult for her to forgive. It’s as if some other being possessed me while I shot off all this hate in her direction; I was aware of the awfulness of my behavior but could do little to stop myself. As a result I may lose her, and forever this time.

My heart and soul are in anguish. I don’t know that I’ll ever deserve this lady’s friendship again, much less her love. I am only hoping I can begin to understand for myself why I’ve become this monster I no longer recognize myself in. Only then will I be able to treat the symptoms that caused this, ensuring I will never treat another friend this way again.

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