I'm stuck in the airport now and I have an immanent feeling that I'm about to land. Not in the obvious, tangible sense of going up into the sky and rolling back down into what is apparently a blizzard, but I have to go back to touch reality in the part of the world I've made it in. Part of me is terrified of that. Maybe terrified is the wrong word; uninterested, uncooperative...un-something. I wonder if it's all in my head, the way our little dramas tend to be. There's some solace in realizing that people don't care as much about your shitty life choices as you think they might; they're too busy making ones of their own.
I have a lot of growing up to do. I'm not sure when these posts becames such a personal thing; I never intended them to be. Funny enough it's the ones that I find too dark and too much that people have come up to me the most about. I'm at a strange place in my life and this trip just kind of confirmed that; on the one hand, I know what I want in life; I have a picture of it now, I have a map and a way to travel. The caveat to that knowledge is I have no sense of self now.
I never realized how sensitive I am. Or maybe I have and I've spent all this time trying to defend myself before something touches the vulnerable side. I lost a lot of respect for myself earlier this year. I always thought I'd be able to handle the situations I climbed into with some number of grace simply because I'm intelligent or perceptive or whatever word I used to excuse myself from having a basic human nature. Reflectively, I don't think I did anything surprising or wrong, necessarily; I was operating like a human in a very human situation. The fact that I thought I'd be able to glide over it like some elegant bird is ridiculous.
When I get hurt, it shows.
I don't know how to handle myself when I feel upset, particularly in public, but at least I can acknowledge that. I'm sort of figuring everyone else out. That's easy to do when you're a stranger and none of the obligations matter and you walk in and out knowing full well you have the option to never see someone again. This whole week I've been an outside observer of myself. It's been fun and crazy and magical. With all of that though, I still have a sense of loneliness and loss that I've been incredibly resistant to dealing with.
I should mention that's always an option. If I wanted to, I could avoid any person that makes me uncomfortable, whether I think they're hurt or I hurt them. I'm being vague in part because as fucking crazy as this sounds I'm not even sure who I'm talking about. These are just senses I have, glimpses of shoulders or sleeping eyes that reel through my head on a zoetrope of memory.
The reason I walked onto a plane with no plan was because I didn't want to deal with how lonely I've felt since I've made these decisions over the past couple months. In a way it reflects how cowardly I am far more than exhibits a sense of courage. I've felt incredibly weak and done things I regret while I do them, and paradoxically do them anyway. It's a complicated kind of sadness that doesn't always feel present, that intertwines with other things that you'd never assume are related (maybe they aren't) and remains completely absent from moments you'd think would make sense. Loneliness is strange, and big, and atmospheric. So is connectedness. I learned a lot of things and this has been a beautiful trip with the added benefit of showing me what it looks like to be doing what makes you happy, but it wasn't an escape route; I'm still going to walk into the burning building where I've been nesting.
The idea of going home is both sad and exciting because it promises me the familiar sense of connectedness I have with my friends. If you're reading this, I've missed you all a lot. Funny how much that week makes you all so present in my mind. I'm going to be excited to see you, and a little wary, I think, now that I know that I'm walking right back into the same problems I ran away from withotu much resolve. I don't know what I thought would change about that by disappearing for a week.
I'm just figuring this out, I guess. It's humbling and disappointing to realize how little I had worked out so far. I think that's why I get resentful when people think I'm smart or that I have some answers. I don't; I'm a hypocrite and a daydreamer and those daydreams sound like old wisdom. In reality I'm just spitballing; I'm saying the things that make sense if I don't have to confront the mire of emotional content that my problems spring from. I don't think anyone selling answers has them, they have the same speculation we all participate in. It sounds wise because it's detached.
I don't understand attachment at all, but I respect it. I don't think it's unnecessary and I don't subscribe to the bastardized buddhism imbued in creative culture about its link to suffering. You need to have a relationship with suffering if you want to get better. Feeling obligated to another human being is definitely unhealthy, and unfortunately for me that seems to be a large part of that venn diagram of attachment. I don't know how to form relationships with people where I don't owe them and/or expect something from them. If I gained any insight from this trip it's that I do that on pretty much any level.
Given my experiences so far it's hard not to see relationships as some kind of committal quagmire where two people make such high and heavy demands that they ruin each other. I have to believe that's only temporary, and that learning how to nurture something healthy will come to me in time. For now though, I feel clumsy, birthed out of my past experiences as some emotional infant who has to trust everyone in order to survive. I feel human again.
About A Blog
I'm a Denver Comedian, occasional cartoonist and person of interest to someone, probably. These articles are really too long.