Since I can’t change her, and I can’t move to a different internet, sometimes I think I should write some L7 ACLs so I don’t get shit like:

30 weeks ago: grumpypants has added you as a friend.

a: I am going to go and see where we go
a: if we go 10 blocks away I am cutting off
b: [snip]
b: which is to say, if you’re willing to stop by create:space for 15m
b: i’ll ride anywhere with you.

I guess that time has come.

a: Have time to talk tonight?
b: I’m four drinks in, probably not a good night.

And when we meet, which I’m sure we will
All that was there will be there still
I’ll let it pass and hold my tongue
And you will think that I’ve moved on

I’ve quoted that before, but it struck me again on the bike ride in this morning. She once stated that she didn’t understand why I listened mostly to pop music and not local artists, and compared that how I felt so adamantly about open source and diy should mean I’d understand why the latter is so important. The trouble is that I’m not an artist. While on some level I appreciate art, and it’s existence, I have no appreciation for the academic qualities of art. My appreciation of art is how it resonates with me, and when it comes to music, I appreciate when something touches me and I can identify with it. Which is why I tend to prefer music with lyrics, and particularly non-cryptic lyrics, over music alone. Although I’ll definitely admit some music can strike a chord with emotions, the music in my social circles tends not to be the kind to strike deep [positive] emotion.

Whenever I read a poem that moves me, I know I’m not alone in the world. I feel a connection to the person who wrote it, knowing that he or she has gone through something similar to what I’ve experienced, or felt something like what I have felt. – Gregory Orr

In my search for what is important to me, what my priorities are, how my time should be spent, I’m often find myself comparing myself to that which is “normal”. I recently offended someone by telling them my first impression was that they were normal. “In behavior, normal refers to a lack of significant deviation from the average.” I think for me, normal refers to a significant deviation from my lifestyle with any other deviations from what feels like a [television induced?] social norm well hidden.

Back to the endgame: “My endgame is finding a cohort I can love and support who wants to do crazy things with me, live according to our ethics, and have a positive impact on the parts of the world that around us.” Recently, this means being open and communicative. Past experience with others has underscored that I want to have a positive impact on the people I touch, and as such the ends do not justify the means. Which is to say that I aim to not sacrifice others in the pursuit of the self. Where I will be years hence simply can’t make up for self-centered living now. I often have wondered why you didn’t watch Kenshin, but it’s clear now that you either only cared about how I made you feel (and not about me), or you couldn’t deal with the burden of being loved.

It doesn’t feel like it’s coming, but I feel like I’m entering a suitable holding pattern. “Plus, having a crush on her is totally helping me disassociate my loneliness…” and  she says “Don’t get hurt son… I’m worried about you… Just as long as you’re not getting emotionally manipulated.” to which I get around to responding with “I just want a cute shy girl to snuggle, hold hands with, be mutually excited to see each other. Like her, but nice.” I’m willing to allow my heart the luxury of having made mistakes and poor choices, it meant well by me.

Of course I still care. I sent her something special recently, but via postal mail as to prevent a response… anonymously, as I later realized probably wasn’t necessary. As always, seemed like a good idea at the time. But there’s nothing left to be said. The second chance burned down what was left of the bridge and left me still standing where I had started, unsurprised. Nobody was surprised. He said not to follow through with it, but admitted he would himself. You are “demonized” by your own actions, and all your supporters (myself included) can do is stand by and watch. I told the counselor today I expected to run into her twenty years hence and high five… she laughed.

I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense

Rode across town last night to see friends, make dinner, comfort each other about heart transgressions. I saw this quote on a sign along the way: “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life — It goes on” — Robert Frost. As I’ve spent much time lately trying to describe to who I am and how I want to live; first to myself, and then to those close to me. We speak of bike club: assholery, leadership, relationships, friendship…

I can’t help the way that I feel, but I can change my life and over time leave behind those who cannot be a part of it by their own accord.

I feel I spoke my truth about thinking you were afraid, and that I didn’t want for you to push me away because of it. It seems to me that you are bolstering your lifestyle-as-identity partly out of fear of losing yourself in a relationship with me, or with anyone, that resembles a normal, or unintentional, unoriginal, should-ed life. If that is the case, then I wholly understand the fear.

As Shatner says, “What are you afraid of? Failure?”. I’ve officially had enough dating. I’m exhausted from the continual outpouring of energy to be let down so quickly. Some new relationships have developed, and those will go on, but I’m definitely heads-down. This doesn’t mean I don’t want a relationship right now, I just can’t find something that feels right. Feeling-sidebar: The old line used to be someone who shares hobbies or someone who shares personality, but now my own feelings have shown themselves to be the capstone. I’ve dated a handful of awesome people, some among the best people I know, who I’ve had less feelings for than much more self-centered girls. This is likely totally unfair and unreasonable, but somehow a part of reality.

The simple answer continues to be that I’m afraid of ending up where my father is. Somewhere I have a comment or an email from mother saying it’s not going to happen, but you know, it’s the easiest answer to put my finger on. Very few of you know my father. The relevant portion is that between his health issues (drinking + smoking) and his depression (life didn’t turn out how he thought it would) he spends most of his time alone, watching sports on TV, in a small town in Maine.

If I keep pushing, forever, failure will be always be behind me. Right? Lifestyle-as-identity… Much time has been spent contemplating and I clearly don’t get my identity from my social groups. Everyone has to get it somewhere, what’s wrong with getting my identity from how I choose to live rather than who I belong to? I find it much more appealing to defend my lifestyle than geeks, bikes (messengers…), as a whole. Unlike some, I can usually separate myself from these groups and move along, sans the “fear of missing out”.

I am someone who thinks, feels, builds, and lives.

That’s who I am.

Searching my email for ‘bernard’ brings up one of my lawyers, my goal, as well as, for different reasons, emails with two different people I am or was close to. I’m beside myself today, thinking about living better. Seeing so very much emotion represented in a page of search results sort of puts me in my place, so to speak.

… and it remains baggage for me because it represents for me everyone that implied that something was wrong with me for still having feelings for her and for having loved her. Anyway, point is that your feelings will stick with you. They’re yours, not theirs, so don’t get to feeling too guilty about them.

I have so much work to do, so much reading to do, and so much I want to write about. My life would be made right now if I could just go snuggle some place warm.

You’d think the weeks where I don’t want to get hurt because I don’t want to have to answer the “how many drinks do you have a week” question at the hospital that week would be sign enough. Nope, it’s taking realizing that my insatiable hunger that has no interest in most food is actually craving for alcohol to figure that one out. Shit. The asian lady at the grocery store spent five minutes recommending different foods that are good for curing hunger this morning and I’m pretty sure she told me to be careful and not eat too much so that I don’t get fat.

Nothing like high-fiving on bike rides to remind me that if I’m going to have a less complicated life in the future I need to shut the fuck up. Oh, hi internet, didn’t see you there; failure two. Anyway, despite all of this weeks bad choices made on whims and feelings rather than fore-thought, it’s been better than last week. Here’s to reunions capping the weekend off on a much higher note than last.

I spend the evening worrying about everyone but myself. There is no time to worry about myself. Who is? I am. So much energy goes into taking care of everyone else. A little nurturing wouldn’t hurt.

No, I don’t want to know about who shes been with. I don’t care who she is caught up on. I’m tired of hearing who she has made out with. I’m tired of being taken for granted and not loved.