2002-02-25 12:20 p.m.
seeker

I'm alive. Really.

Broadcasting my life in a public forum gets tougher when my life hasn't been that interesting.

I've been up and down more often and faster than ten theme parks' worth of rollercoasters in this past month, and it's not about to get easier.

For one, I'm standing at a crossroads of my life: I have to move out of my house in July.

("Have to" in the sense that my brother and our other roommate are moving then, so it's either move, or find new roommates and sign a lease, something I don't want to do. That house, for better or for worse, has been home for a year and a half, and it would just feel wrong to fill it with strangers.)

I have no career to speak of, other than knowing the names of some comic book editors and them presumably remembering me from drinks or office visits.

I temp for a living. Enough said.

And even though I'm laying my life out in words and staring at them as they sit on the screen, I'm not depressed or screaming like I would have been at another time, wondering Why I Haven't Succeeded or What's Wrong With Me.

It's just time for a new choice. The old ways of doing things just aren't working. I've felt stifled and numb and beaten lately, a way I know in my heart people aren't meant to live.

My roommates are leaving tomorrow morning for a week. I want to have a course set by the time they come back, a plan of action for this next little while, to feel in control of my life for the first time in years.

People I know drink or take drugs to remind themselves how to have a good time. Christ, I do it myself sometimes. But at times like these, that's akin to treating a disease by treating the symptoms. Your *life* should be a thing of joy, not your escapes from that life. When I'm off by myself, when I go to see films or theater or walk in the park on a warm day and watch children feed ducks stale bread, when I work on something I care about, when I rock out to a live band or in my room, and when I love as I do — fucking deeply — it's a source of joy. And it's occurred to me these past few weeks that there is no substitute. I've got to seek it out.

I think I learned that lesson very early on in my life (I was a very thoughtful 13-year-old), but it took testing it to see it as true.