Shadows of the Passing Year

The final hours of the year are drawing in and with them go another calendar. It’s always been a bit of an irony to me that most everyone looks to the New Year as some kind of rebirth, some token landmark that will grant them a reprieve from their troubles and somehow endow them with the wisdom to fix every ill they encounter. I say it’s ironic because wisdom by definition predisposes that this line of thinking is, for lack of a better term, retarded. Sound minded, reasonable people clamor together as the clock strikes midnight and the calendar changes and all anyone can think of is how the New Year will be the one, the one that will see them married, or off to a job they really like. They seem to think that a calendar needs to change in order for them to accomplish anything of value.

I’m not averse to the idea of using a symbolic milestone as a watermark for new life. Hell, I’ve met many people that say their life really began when they became a parent or when they found true love (I’m guilty of that last one), so the idea of beginning a new chapter in life is something I have no problem with. It’s the concept of leaving behind all the woes and misery of life with the passing of a year. It doesn’t mean anything, really. Taking a hard line approach to it, time in itself is a manmade construct and it doesn’t really amount to much in the grand scheme of the universe. The calendar we subscribe to is actually a Christian invention and thus an indirect buy out of some measure of Christianity (take that Atheists) so it’s all arbitrary when you really sit and analyze it.

All of that having been said, I actually find myself looking forward to the coming year. I will, come hell, high water, Armageddon, or the apocalypse, finally lay to rest once and for all what I’ve termed The Long Saga with Nicole. I’m also going to get my book published and stop sitting on it (almost five years in production and to be honest I haven’t done very much with it in terms of development since I penned the last words to it on December 28^th 2007. Those are my main two goals and really the only things I actually give a damn about accomplishing in the New Year. Both of them are easily attainable goals so I see no reason I can’t get it done.

The passing year for me was a bit interesting to say the least. I awoke New Year’s Day to dim lighting and my best friend passed out on my floor gripping a Hefty bag with all his might. I knew then it was going to be a year out of The Twilight Zone. I was working Karaoke at the Brass, having a ball and still miring away in the same job. I move mid-January into my current apartment, and found a new object for my affection in mid-February. That last bit turned out to be a horrid decision. I opted to pursue a sycophantic bartender that ended up spelling my doom instead of bringing me happiness. When the dust settled in early June from that debacle I found myself reaching out to the only person I trusted to give me an honest answer to the only question I felt really mattered right then, “Was anything about me genuine?” Nicole was honest and said quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard “You were the only honest thing about our relationship”. From the ashes of a failed endeavor and old one sprang forth, and I set back on the path to what I’ve always felt has been my destiny. I made the journey to see Tool in San Diego and it was then that the Long Saga began again. A late night text advising me to be careful and expressing love (we hadn’t even seen each other) was all it took to send my elation at seeing my favorite band into over drive and leave me on a plateau of happiness I hadn’t fathomed. The end of July I found myself on the receiving end of a show of vitriol that would have turned Hitler’s stomach. The Sunday following, a year to the day since Nicole had walked out of my life; she was back in my arms. Funny how life works out.

The middle of September found the flood gates of my emotion reopened, leaving me feeling and dealing with everything I thought I’d left behind and also sprawled on a blanket in the cemetery having lunch and reveling in the beauty of my love. I knew happiness again. A week after that and I was barred from entering the bar I’d called my own since before I could drink or even buy tobacco. John had given me the death knell and axed me, citing too much drama with the psychotic whore bartender (she accused me of stalking her) and too much grief from the owner (who has now sold the shit hole, or so I’m told). So I bid farewell to my friends, and closed a chapter in my life. Two months later I found myself stuck in a choice of whether I wanted to indulge in what most would see as self-destructive behavior or realize a dream. I took the former but told most everyone I did the latter. Such are the choices we make in life.

2010 began with no great fanfare and it’s ending better than I’d thought but not as well as I’d have liked. At midnight tonight my thoughts will be elsewhere, lost in the ether and drifting on the currents of something beyond us all. But I will smile, I will revel and I will do my best to embrace the warmth and camaraderie of my peers. Every day that passes from now until my last is a testament to what the human spirit can accomplish. I was told I’d become a failure when I was younger, and I proved that to be untrue. I was removed from my high school and left to the whim, of fate and I managed to find a silver lining. I was once told that the love I sought was beyond me and I fought against all odds to make it my own. I have done the impossible, and that makes me mighty, but we all have. We have all conquered our obstacles, we have persevered through the hardships of our life and made the best of whatever hand we’ve been dealt. It is by the tides of time, the ever present passing moment and the inescapable urge to capture and hold onto what we have, what we know, and to attempt to see the realization of what others say can never be that make us mighty. We are all stronger than we know, capable of so much more than we ever thought possible, and no matter what is to come in the next year, the one following, or the one that lies distantly ahead, I have no doubt that I’ll still be here, walking the planet, making life difficult for at least one other person, and still sharing my insights, my thoughts, and doing my best to eke out a life that is not just content but also happy.

I wish you all, the very best that the universe has to offer. May you all keep the love you’ve found and find innumerable ways to make it better. To those that have yet to find love, I wish the winds of fate to bring you the greatest happiness a person can know. The world is a beautiful place, full of wonder, joy, and love. My most fervent wish, aside from having Nicole in my arms, and calling her my own, is that each and every one of you find within you the capability and the compulsion to recognize the wonders of the world and how integral you are in it. I love you all my friends, and I hope the New Year is not just better than the last but that it sees the realization of our dreams and brings all the blessings of pleasure and bliss we ever fathomed.

"What is this burden of love, but the trials of a soul proving its own worth for the blessings bestowed by embrace of another..."

            Disillusionment is not something I do easily. For most things I find the worst case scenario and act on the precept that said scenario is a certainty, most things, that is, except love. For whatever reason I’ve seen fit to toil, wallow, and mire in a seemingly endless misery that would make even Bob Flanagan wince and take pause. It’s usually around this time of year that a tried and true pattern occurs and I find myself spiraling into a descent that I only just manage to escape after the New Year.

            The insipid holiday cheer that seems to permeate most every facet of the populace in the final months of the year is like glass in my brain. The plastic smiles, the token niceties that people doll out on demand, the screaming brats, and the same mindless soundtrack year after year all combine to drive me to the edge of insanity. Couple it with my normal disconnection from the masses this time of year, and you have recipe for disaster. Now in recent years it has played out with my going quiet, spitting bile at those that would seek to reach out, and my own venomous tongue shooting darts at even the most genuine of the perceived mindless drones.

            It’s no secret that the majority of my dissatisfaction has time and again been attributed to the implied obligation for gift giving and the pretense that people are really only genuine and nice to one another during the last months before the calendar change. While I won’t deny that those things do play a rather monumental part in my overall salty demeanor, the bigger part of it comes out of being and feeling alone and isolated this time of year. I steer away from the term jealousy mainly because it doesn’t apply. I don’t envy anyone their companionship or counterpart this time of year…well almost anyone. Unlike Valentine ’s Day where most people try to find someone in the hopes of getting laid (see Previous Post), the holidays usually intone a time for people to come together and connect.

            Now I promote and encourage connection with others, despite the all too real and bitter taste of the vulnerability it engenders. However, in taking a long hard look at my situation and the options open to me this time of year, for perhaps the first time in my adult life really taking a hard and analytically objective look at the facets of my life that combine to engender this misanthropy, I find that really it’s kind of circular.

            I’m miserable because I’m alone, but I’m alone because the only person I really want to spend this time of year with is the one person I absolutely can’t. I know by now it’s no secret to anyone that Nicole and I are talking again and relatively speaking we’ve come to accept that once more we’ve managed to eke out some semblance of a relationship. In taking things from an objective viewpoint I’ve realized that the most of you who have been along for the ride for any part of this ongoing saga have attested to, the only reason she and I work is because of me and my refusal to demand decent treatment at her hands. In addition my blind obsession with her (to be honest not just with you but myself, the vast majority of the past four years have been drenched in obsession disguised as love and defined by lust [take a second to let the meaning sink in]) has made it near impossible for me to simply walk away. The fear of being completely alone, of having to start all over again with someone else, to have to break down and burrow my way into someone’s inner circle of self and find that place of vulnerability…well the cynic in me knows all too well the amount of effort and reasons, somewhat justifiably, that it’s just not worth it.

            As social creatures in an era of mass dissemination of information we guard ourselves and our true feelings. Absolute vulnerability is something just too terrifying for most and it makes us put up walls that sometimes end up leaving us outside ourselves. One of my readers I speak to on a semi regular basis and she finds it both comforting and disturbing just how well I know her at times. The idea that someone can get beyond the armor, find their way to the soft inner core of our true selves, and do it all without ever really being around of making a truly concerted effort, well it’s not only daunting but also very unsettling. For most of us we spend the majority of our waking moments of interpersonal interaction gauging how much is too much. Should we tell the whole story or omit certain details? Is being completely honest always the best policy? Do we really benefit from being completely open?

            To remove some of the ambiguity of the questions above, think of it this way. People you’ve known your whole life, you’re fairly well comfortable around. Yet with certain things you invest a conscious effort to limit what is said or decide on the fly, just how much you should omit. A guy I’ve known since we were kids, at one point being thick as thieves and closer to brothers than friends, exhibited and demonstrated all too devastatingly a couple years back that my trust in him was sorely misplaced He completely disregarded my feelings and decided to deride my endeavors as being useless and without viable means of fruition. The definition of love I had found didn’t mesh with his perception of what love should be, and thus we had a schism. I still see the guy, I still interact with him, but outside of discussing general knowledge information, I find it hard to open up, to trust, or to divulge any real personal details.

            That being said, I think that all of us, myself included (hell I’m leading the charge), live in a near constant state of fear. Fear of being judged, of being alone, of being isolated or misunderstood. We go with the grain because the alternative is just too horrifying. We accept what people are willing to share, see what we’re shown and never endeavor to move beyond the veneer. I’m a terrible exception to it because I analyze everything and for me people are the ultimate puzzles.

            So circling back around, I find that it’s the time of year when I’m miserable because I’m disconnected. I interact with people, but I’m just outside that fuzzy warm zone where everyone gets to belong. Families come together, friends spend more time with each other, and I’m just too far out on the fringe of the whole system. Truth-be-told I’d love nothing better than to spend the holidays wrapped in Nicole’s arms, or just coming home to her every night. Instead I find myself struggling to accept that the best I can hope for right now is a fifteen minute phone call on her way home from work each night of the work week. Am I happy with it? Not by a long shot! Do I want more? No question. But I’m also a realist and I recognize that while it’s easy for my fan base (you guys) to criticize her and disparage her for the negative and selfish way she treats me (due in no small part to my own lambasting of her in a negative light [i.e., I “whine” to you guys instead of addressing the issue with her outright, come what may]) there’s a lot of layers to the dynamic I don’t share.

            The happiness I feel in her arms, the softness of her kiss on my lips and the way it makes my heart race (yes even after four years), or the tingle up my spine as her hands grip my back and she pulls herself into me, it all adds up to something that outweighs the seemingly overwhelming detriment of the dynamic. I won’t lie and say I don’t see it for it is, I recognize that I’ve had my life summarily on hold for the past four years. I’ve passed up many potential relationships, let go of many an interested woman (that no doubt would have treated me better and been better for me) but that’s the way love works. It drives you to do things that defy logic and complete fly in the face of rationality. I remain emotionally committed and convicted to the idea that given enough time she might come around. The downside is that the isolation I feel from having to remain so guarded around so many to keep the harsh tongues and wagging fingers at bay, leaves me with precious little solace for the loneliness that infects me in overwhelming abundance. I make no pretense as to whose burden it is that I carry, who is to blame for the decision to remain in such an obviously one sided “relationship”, or even that I’m not due the clacking of tongues and sometimes harsh admonitions I receive from those that care most about me. But by the same token, I feel no real obligation to defend said choices, outside of someone asking with genuine interest to understand, why I choose what I do.

            Love is the ultimate ambiguity because it comes in a unique flavor for everyone. The woman that stays with her husband even though she’s habitually beaten in his drunken stupors can still find some semblance of true love with the man. It’s just her flavor of the emotion. Likewise an old billionaire that recognizes something right and wonderful in the arms of a woman half his age, is no more wrong in his choice than a couple that finds each other across a crowded room and set about making a life amid a myriad of hardships.

            Now I will concede that my often touted definition and relation to the idea of romantic love being something that drives you to defy the Jiminy Cricket on your shoulder and whole heartedly engage in behavior and choices that make most outsiders opt for super gluing their palms to their foreheads just to save themselves the trouble of having to raise their arm so often. I see love as the ultimate no holds barred dynamic in which we can exist; a truly unconditional association of affection, peace, tranquility, adoration, and respect that super cedes all other possible constructs of behavior.  It is with that definition in mind that I have been able to endure, fight, suffer, bleed (emotionally), battle, and sacrifice all that I have. My personal conviction to what she and I could be, is enough of a driving force to keep me moving ahead with hope in my heart…or it was.

            It would seem that like all things in the universe, including the universe itself, my tolerance and understanding is finite. The dynamic this time around has been more taxing, due in large part to distance, but also because of the limitations that distance imposes. No weekend trysts, no long late night discussions as in days long past, hell in the five months we’ve been “back together” I’ve only seen her six times, and all of it is colluding together to test my resolve. Now I will admit that pride has played a significant role in my decisions of late. Somewhere in the back of my mind the warped conclusion that if I can manage to hold on to the pursuit, find the strength within to keep going, manage to muster enough hope and believe (no matter how naïve it’s seen to be) to ride this out until it’s last and final conclusion, I’ll prove once and for all that the kind of love I’ve espoused for so long does actually exist and that it is worth fighting for.

            Here’s where the breakdown occurs though. I’ve spent so much time, invested so much of myself, and let down so many walls within my sphere of self that she is one of the very few (perhaps the only one) that can really see through to the real me instead of what I project or willingly show. So I’m left to consider if I really am strong enough to walk away from this and leave the last four years of my life as little more than a blight of time that I had the pause button on. I know the sentiments will vary regarding what I should do, but ultimately remember it’s about my choices (that’s not to say that your thoughts and ideas won’t be considered though).

            Finally with all of this having been laid out, my disillusionment with the dynamic I’ve fought so hard to cultivate, defend, and attain comes into focus. I just really don’t know how much further I can go, what else I’m capable of doing. I’ve made off handed comments to some and even discussed with a couple of others, regarding my passion extinguishing itself due to emotional fatigue. I wake up most mornings and lack the resolve to approach the world with the same tenacity I once did, even the act of making love seems a bit forced at the outset. The raging inferno of my once untamable inner conflagration seems to have dwindled to little more than a weak and fragile flame on a tea candle struggling to maintain ignition through the torrid winds of a blizzard in the Antarctic.

            Those that know me best will no doubt have mixed feelings in their responses to this (does anyone still read?), struggling to support my decisions but wrestling with the anger of what they feel for my having given so much to someone they see as so undeserving. But it is to them, to those few that have peeled away the outer layers, seen behind the Wizard’s curtain, gazed into the abyss of who and what I am behind the shtick and wit, that I ask, very plainly, “How much more do you think I have in me, or for that matter how do you think I can reignite that almost doused spark within and return it to the vibrant almost violent firestorm it once was?”

            As a final note, I’m curious, more out of morbid fascination than anything else, for those of you that have ever been in love, those that currently are, and those that hope to be, consider your current mate, best previous, or ideal future one, and consider just how far you’d be willing to go. How much would you be willing to sacrifice, how much misery would you endure to spare them an ounce, exactly what are the limits to the burden you would endure in order to realize even the briefest moment of happiness behind their eyes? Think long and hard about the true measure of your love and devotion for the person you call your beloved, take into account all the things you wish you could change, all the things that once made your heart soar and your voice go dry, take note of what it was that first drew you to them and if it’s still there, and then answer the question, “Just how far would [you] go for love?”