Nine Snowboots
Still keeping you all in the loop (if you want to be)
Ever since I started writing back here in November, I feel compelled to keep you all in the loop of what's been going on in my life. It's funny; I've tried private journals and diaries before but never really stuck with them past a few days or up to a half a month, despite the appeal of being able just bleed raw feelings onto the page. Maybe the accountability of posting in public appeals to me more.
Getting old
What is the generally accepted demarcation of middle age? Is it a set chronological age or is it when certain milestones are reached?
Them's the berries
I wrote this about two years ago. Relationships were on my mind at the time as a few of my friends had gone through breakups the previous fall; as much as I was trying to keep things vague in the post, I was also trying to work through some of my own feelings by writing about them, still blindsided and conflicted over the automatic neurochemical reactions I kept experiencing with a specific person a while back (part of the equation: for the first time in at least 10 years, it was a woman). As far as I know, nothing was going to come of it, but I still try to keep the number of real-world interactions to a minimum because I don't want any involuntary emotions leaking out.
The longest month
January still hasn't ended yet, but it feels like ages since the new year began. I'm not sure whether it's the weather (a few storms, but no actual storm days aside from an early close) or something else but time seemed to slow down this month.
Another life update
I want to thank all those who responded to my last post; I haven't been so great at finding the time and brainpower to send my reply to your kind e-mails as of yet, but rest assured that I will sooner or later. (Also, keep them coming! I take a look at my site analytics to see where my traffic comes from, and wonder who's visiting the page.)
A request for personal e-mails
I miss e-mail. I still get plenty of new things filling up my inbox, but just like the box in my apartment lobby, most of what I get is bill notifications, subscriptions, and junk mail. The odd piece of correspondence from another human being slips through on occasion, but not enough for my liking.
Escalitopram
I finally decided to go to a walk-in clinic on November 23rd regarding my depression. This was a step I had been thinking about taking for a little while, but something in me held me back.
It's not you, it's me
I’ve been trying to come up with a personal blog post for a little while. Maybe this comes with the trap of having an online space signed with your name, but I’m afraid of posting what I truly feel because I worry about how such a post will reflect on me. Every time I consciously try to write something I end up generalizing things so much to the point where it rings false.
The summer's gone, but a lot goes on forever
Leonard Cohen is gone. It was an inevitability, telegraphed by the man himself in recent months, but seeing the official status at the top of my Facebook feed was an unwelcome surprise tonight. Right now, it doesn’t feel much like the big loss I expected to feel; in a year that already claimed David Bowie and Prince, where voters in the UK and US legitimized hatred and resentment of the other, Cohen’s death almost seems anticlimactic. Just another light gone out after our eyes already adjusted to the darkness.