What she didn't know was that the holiday triple threat nexus was
converging in my small apartment.
Christmas,
my birthday, and New Years were all joining to focus their unholy terrors into my fragile world.
I have to face the realities of what my life is. There are also some
truths that I haven't wanted to face and now there is no choice.
Sometimes (many times) we lose or finish last, even when we really, really try or
worse, when we have given it our best. Watch the news, unbelievable
and tragic stuff happens to people everyday usually through no fault of
their own. This is such an obvious one that I get pissed at myself for
getting surprised when something goes "wrong" in my life. What?
Who? Me? No Way! Really? Stop it, that's not funny.
Huh? It's not a joke. Fuck......... Not again. Do
you ever feel like an rock climber?
Scaling
a sheer cliff (of human emotion) like Tom Cruiser in Mission Impractical 2.
It's a metaphor so stay with me. We have a bag of rope and spikes, chalk and gloves. Hey I'm not going
up there without some safety gear. So here we are working our way up
the cliff face, we stop to drive spikes and attach rope to our harness.
Nice. We'll call this segment Xtreme Leftcoasting. As we get
closer to the top we leave more space between our spikes in favor of making
better time. Plus we are getting good at this too. I used
to drive two spikes per level as an extra safety measure in case the rock
beneath the first became cracked or loose. Now I drive only one and
move on. Taking more chances in
favor of reaching the goal in less time. Then with the top in site my
last spike gives and I drop 50 feet. I'm not dead but I'm fairly well
fucked up but good. The movies lie, this shit actually hurts. At least I had
a rope and the lower spikes held preventing my untimely demise. Yuck a
messing end no doubt as the craggy rocks around my cliff are pretty sharp.
We get cocky we get confident and then act surprised when a shortcut fails.
Wake up Leftcoast, take the way of the turtle, slow and steady wins the
race. People take time and you can't rush or force a true connection.
I
let myself get extra gyrated during and after Thanksgiving this year.
I needed to get away so I packed the car with my demons and drove to
Newport. Trying to figure out what it all means. I have spent
the last year writing about the love and joy that is my life. Pictures
and witty commentary. A travel brochure that even attracted a few of
my friends to make the trip. Why do I put it all out here? Well
I'm getting scared. Scared I didn't matter, scared I won't matter,
scared that it all doesn't matter. I'm a runner. Harder to hit a
moving target and there is something to be said for being able to start over
again. And isn't that what Christmas is all about? It is a
beginning. Christmas is the beginning of the Christian cycle.
Maybe that's why this time of year troubles me so. My head gets filled
with every angst and regret I have in life. So we all spent a
harrowing six hours in my car yelling and crying. On the 5 no one can
hear your scream...
I tell her it has been a battle, far bloodier than any pay per view extreme fighting match. The preliminaries looked promising for the demons but I managed to hold my own for now. I have been using the technique called "Visualization" and my website is the culmination of this mental health device. See your success, see it in your mind first, repeat the success over and over in your head, then go out and do it. Michael Jordan and other premier athletes use this technique to improve their mental game. Well after a year all I have to show for it is a scrapbook of wishes. I'm still alone and without a true root system. I've tried to wait for the happiness, I've tried to make the happiness, I've even tried to squeeze this world and shake out some of the happiness.
Come
closer children. Gather around the fire and listen to Leftcoast wallow
in his misery...
At this point I took my own advice and walked down to the beach.
From Jim's doorway this takes, oh ... about 30 seconds. The tide was
moving out fast and it left a world of creatures uncovered.
Muscles
and clams clung to rocks in tight clusters. Strength in numbers?
Starfish left to wait until the tide returned. A mother and her two
daughters were exploring the area and sharing their finds. I felt sad
because I wished I was sharing my time and finds with someone. Then I
looked down. In the sand was a message. "I was here" scrawled on
the fresh pallet of exposed sand. That's what I'm doing, acting, ok
I'm screaming it to the stars and beyond. I want somebody to think my
time mattered.
I have some cool and dear friends but the type of connection I really want
can't be made at that level. One person, one time, one truth. I
know I can do it but each time someone "looks under my hood" they find
something wrong. Over time I leave my hood down more often than not.
I get hard. Who am I kidding? I've had a good run and now it's
over. Well I can watch and continue to comment and here and there
maybe catch a scrap. Scrap of time, scrap of love, scrap of joy,
scrap of appreciation, scrappa lappa dappa you are so full of shit.
The battles rages on.
How
is all this a Christmas Story? Well I feel a little like Scrooge
facing my ghosts. Ghosts of my past, present and future all in the car
for a road trip. Secondly I said Christmas was a beginning and I hope
that this soul searching, head flushing, and emotion mopping all clears the
deck or at least clears out my head. Set the table again and invite
better guests to the next dinner party.
Peace,
Sean
