Brainstorm: A crack of ideological thunder, a bolt of ethereal lightning, the tempest has passed its prime

It has become something of an oddity that I have found the time and clarity of mind to sit down and write anything of length and substance. But not for lack of trying of a shortage of impetus, rather the drought has been the result of far too many things plaguing my already addled mind. The job situation has been a near unyielding source of stress and discontent. My recent move presented its own trials and woes, albeit it has paid off so far. And of course, the Long Saga continues to be written, a narrative with no clear ending and all the characters running stagnant in their roles. How terrible and boring such a book would be, and yet it is my life and I can’t find a single person that finds my tribulations to be anything short of remarkable.

I say remarkable because when explained at length, the circumstances of my upbringing, the inescapable nuances of my vernacular and of course the tongue in cheek irreverence that allows me to come off as charming and tolerable, most are staggered as to just how I keep my mind about me. I’ve offered a myriad of explanations but sadly, none has seemed “right”. Truth be told, the exact method by which I have managed to escape the seemingly inevitable maladies to which I have been predisposed, is a feat I’ve not yet fully understood.

But I press on, from one day to the next, heedless and unceasing in my forward march. The question however has recently presented itself; to what end do I march? It used to be that the aim was to prove myself worthy; to exemplify all that I believed myself lacking, in order to attain her. While that story continues to be written, one page each day, I have yet to pin down or extract the exact means by which I will attain my success. I’ve accepted that while my prose might be enjoyable to all of you, to the mass audience I hope to reach is far too consumed with Twitter, Facebook posts, and other minutia to really invest themselves for any length of time in absorbing the meaning and forethought poured into every sentence prior to its birth on the page.

As my previous post noted, I’ve no intention of sacrificing length or substance simply to pander to the cretins that find themselves too embroiled in their own trite pursuits to actually enjoy writing they claim to be of a pleasing caliber. While I know that might seem like a seething attack on some, or an outright indictment and an admittance of my refusal to show understanding to the busy schedules of so many, I’d like to point out that amid the hustle and bustle of my day to day existence, I still manage to find time to author these pieces, and rest assured, the time is takes me to churn one of these out is roughly four to six times the length it takes the average reader to reach the final punctuation.

Having dispensed with the premises, updates, and gripes, I find myself unable to really put forth a concise (as my attempts as concise go) or focused string of prose together in order to argue any specific point. That is, my mind is somewhat fractured at the moment; a torrential and angry sea of ideas and notions, churning about violently, the ship of my consciousness set adrift amid the waves, with no clear heading. My thoughts center on the future, my future with her, will my prayers of holding her in my arms as my own ever be answered? My professional future, if I will ever find a way to be paid for putting my fingers and mind to work in a way to produces text? I need to make my life simple, to make the complications and complexities of my existence into something extraneous and negligible. I’m tired, I’m exhausted, and I need a break, from this life, these burdens, these arduous and trying tasks, but most of all, from being me. 

Affirmation of Conviction...

Following my last official entry, it was suggested that I begin to trim these down. “Say less with more” was the actual quote. While it might be a good way to attract advertisers and even to attract some new readers, I just can’t bring myself to do it. While I do want more engagement and more response from the few that do read, and some part of me really does want to increase my exposure, I can’t give up the fundamental facets of what this is: catharsis. I make my argument, I elaborate on my point, and when all is said and done, either there’s an argument (see Valentine’s Day 2010) or there’s agreement and encouragement. Now I know the tone wavers a bit between nauseating whining about my unrequited pursuit of love and the vilification/adulation of her, and my seeming overwhelming exuberance at something a bit more far reaching and relatable. I’ve done a lot of analysis in the past month or so about the kind of posts I put up and the comments they receive.

I found a bit disconcerting that while so many of you are unabashedly eager to bandy one slur or insult after another freely when commiserating on the shortcomings of my relationship with her, not one of you, not a single one, had the guts, gumption, or willingness to come to her aid and argue for the endurance of something truly beautiful that each and every one of you has a stake in: my happiness.

You’re all here because you care. I matter to you in different ways. And a majority of my regular readers have actually approached me at various times to vent, converse, decry, lament, or seethe about your relationships, and have I not always been ready and willing to listen, offer advice to make it work, and provide an objective analysis of the motivations behind a certain behavior or action? Yet when I ask the same, not a single voice in the Asylum cries out for my cause. Do you all truly despise her that deeply? She has wronged me, not you. It is my burden that carries the weight of her indiscretions and the shortcomings of her actions. And while this open tome has served a means of getting a clearer picture of things onto paper for the sake of allowing me to process my emotions and give me clarity, I have never expected anyone here to intercede on my behalf. I’d like to make clear that I’m not writing this with a tone of condemnation or anger. Quite the contrary actually, as I’ve found within myself, the resolve and the conviction I needed to keep going.

Like it or not, I have made my choice. I begrudge no one their happiness, in whatever form they find it. Mine comes in the form of a woman with more baggage than an airport terminal and more repressed emotions and unattended to insecurities than I could possibly enumerate. But I love her, deeply and fully. Those of you that know me with any measure of actual insight, know that my passion is intense and capable of being overwhelming in the extreme. My greatest task has been finding a way to focus that energy, to harness that potent passion and put it to use in a way that retains the power but does nothing to provide a detriment. I have finally reached that pinnacle and achieved my aim. The last month or so has hardly been one of grand excitement or blessing. True there has been a bit of good fortune, I got my new place with hardly any trouble, but the move has left me all but broke. But all of that aside, I’m no longer a slave to my passions, no longer chained or tethered to the ferocity of my own demons. I am free and in control of my reactions and my emotions.

My relationship has reached its apex. I honestly have never been happier with her. The coming weeks will yield a final and unquestioned decision and from that will either bring the greatest pinnacle of happiness and splendor I ever dared dream, or the ashes of the phoenix will be prepared to rise once more. I don’t know what the coming days have in store, nor do I venture a guess too far beyond what I can see immediately. I have hoped for far too much before, and I have felt the terse sting of disappointment that comes from having to accept that things didn’t play out the way I would have liked. For now, I’m doing my best to just enjoy, to just be, to feel happy, and to let the universe unfold on its own, in its own time, and as it chooses.