(no subject)

As part of my resolution to be more scrutable, even to myself, the weekend was a little revelatory. I'm pretty lucky, in that there are some very good people in my life, many more than I have assumed or assigned. This, in itself, is good. I don't know how to express this appreciation I have of them. My public persona is such that many people (though thankfully, not all) seem almost afraid of physical contact (I'll admit that I'm not, nor have ever been, one of those super touch-oriented people, but tactility, even slight, is sometimes terribly meaningful). The path is uncertain, but the goal seems worthwhile.

[As an explicit aside, those who read this should probably feel safe in assuming they're of the greatly appreciated, but underackowledged, group.]

(no subject)

I am filled with a pervasive sadness today that hit me all at once as I was driving home from an unsuccessful attempt at finding the nigh-perfect birthday gift for my SO (Repo Man on DVD, if you're curious; she's an odd one) and listening to an interview with Benjamin Bratt concerning his role as Miguel Pinero in a new movie. It seems like an odd moment of crystalization, and yet that was when it hit. I have felt somewhat off all day, as though I could not mesh well with reality, or people, and my sisyphean movie search confirmed that; people looked at me oddly, or seemed not to notice me, and I found myself incapable of meeting the eyes of others. It was suddenly as though I was twelve again, as I felt far too ungainly and uncoordinated for the length of my limbs, and I moved with the practiced paranoia based on a fear of knocking into someone or something. I felt as though if I could just sit somewhere still and watch outside, things would be OK, but that opportunity was not mine.

I think the crystallization occurred with a spoken word piece by Pinero (there's something about a certain style of spoken word performance that sounds so vibrantly, irresistibly alive to me), and it struck me profoundly that others, with burdens greater than mine, have lived full, rich, fulfilled lives, whereas I often feel that my life is lived as though I am huddled in a slight depression that offers little cover, looking fearfully out at life. It ties in with both my desire to be scrutable, and my earlier post regarding a lack of approachability. I end up feeling as though I am letting myself down, that I have no one to blame for my sadness, unhappiness, and inability to cope with an inconsiderate and unforgiving social world but myself.