I wish my memory were better. More specifically, I wish it were better for certain things, and maybe a little worse with others. It would be good if I could remember whether or not I brushed my teeth or already washed my hair (that’s more a result of distraction than anything else). I’m not sure I need to remember the words to half of the songs I know (“The Land Down Under,” really?) or that Zelle gets a rounded cup of food twice a day, is allergic to salmon, and eats Taste of the Wild High Sierra brand…. However, it would be helpful to remember whether or not I’ve read an article when I see it promoted on my pocket selections. Opening up a new tab tonight, I can see that the internet is doing a fine job of tracking my interests. Among the articles suggested for me (that ones I can’t remember if I’ve already read) are: “Mary Oliver on What Attention Really Means and Her Moving Elegy for Her Soul Mate,” “How to Let Go: Learning to Deal with Loss,” “We Expect Too Much from Our Romantic Partners,” and “Falling” an article about falling out of the middle class. Those all sound about right. I think I read the Mary Oliver one, and maybe the one on loss – can’t quite remember. It looks like I have a few things to read when I’m bored.
Speaking of internet spying… This was one of the ads Facebook thought was appropriate for me. I think it knows I’m single and on dating apps. Which, if I’m being honest, I’m not sure why I’m on any sites. There are not very many choices here in Memphis. Due to social distancing, some of the sites have done away with distance limits or are allowing you to more easily connect with people in other cities. My pattern seems to be connect with an attractive woman (when I’m bored) and quickly let the conversation fizzle out. I can’t seem to bring myself to be interested in anyone or in the search or in the pursuit. I wish I could figure it out. On the one hand, I’d like the benefits of being in a caring relationship and sharing life with someone. It’s nice to have someone to have coffee with, go hiking with, etc. etc. I’d like to travel and hang out and show each other new things. On the other hand, I can’t seem to feel any interest towards anyone. I don’t think that it’s out of fear of being hurt – I accept that risk as part of the process. If anything, I think you’re probably not doing it right if you’re not risking getting hurt. And it’s not a lack of confidence – or at least not a traditional lack of confidence. Maybe I just don’t feel fully myself or worry that I can’t bring all of myself. One of the times my ex-fiancee, B, wrote to me, she said “take what you’ve learned and all the love you have and pour it into someone new. Stop being so afraid. Be patient and listen to her and it could all work out just fine. You can do this! She will be different and that is a good thing.” For me, it’s just not that easy. You can’t just apply lessons learned to a new person. If anything, that’s an argument for staying and growing together – take what you’ve learned and make the relationship different. My one friend says she knows one or two people who just sort of stopped. They never quite got it back. I have to allow for that possibility too.
Unrelated…. It was nice day here in Memphis – though a little cold in the morning. I wrote for about half the day, wrote and ran four miles after lunch, texted with my friend John out in LA, and then pretty much pissed the night away playing a video game (something I seldom do). The entire day, the apartment smelled like the crock pot dinner I was cooking (pepperoncini beef). The only drawback to dinner was that I had to use substandard soft rolls – there are no Kaiser rolls in Memphis (at least not at the bodega down the street). In hindsight, I kinda wish I had packed a bag and gone for a hike today. Unfortunately, a lot of the good hiking is in the eastern part of the state which is five hours away.
Today also felt more experimental than most. I wrote a poem, “The Order of Things” which was a departure from what I would normally write. It’s a poem in which I use the same words over and over again and play with the idea of being restless in a waiting room (garage, hospital, delivery ward). I initially was just going to call it a “A Story” or “What You Bring with You” and leave it as the first stanza – let the reader decide what waiting room, what circumstances. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of switching the words around and coming up with different combinations. And while there were absolutely no rules to what I was doing – I could write whatever I wanted – I felt a certain fidelity to trying to stick to using exactly the same words each time. If I had allowed myself to use variations, I’d have had more room to play.
I also tried taking some videos of myself. I hate being in front of the camera. I don’t like being the center of attention. Writing, with the prospect of being published and maybe even having readers, makes me a little nervous. I don’t necessarily write to get published, but at the same time, I kinda do. To that end, I’ve contemplated upping my social media presence (which makes me gag a little) – or getting rid of it completely. I’m not sure which is best. I also tried a series of selfies in which I tried to think of something sad and see if I could notice a change of expression (I have a friend who does a self-portrait every day – has been doing them for over 10 years). The expression didn’t change much, I just looked sleepy… doesn’t help that it’s morning / glasses / unkempt me. It was thinking about my friend’s Instagram account that got me to thinking about my own presence (or absence).
For the most part I’ve been staying away from the news. The way Trump has handled this virus and the constant lying drives me crazy and the gaslighting… well, I’m not gonna write about it because it just gets me pissed off. A few of the things I have read, stories related to the virus, have just made me sad. There was one on Buzzfeed about a young couple… the husband got COVID-19 and after a pretty long battle died. He left a message for his wife on his phone. It was sweet and another reminder, as if there aren’t enough, to be good to the people you’re with. I also saw the one on the Today show about the husband who surprised his wife on her 84th birthday. There’s a certain amount of self-pity taking place when I read these stories – which then makes me feel guilty…. but that’s how human emotion works, right? See someone get married, or struggle, or lose someone, and you reflect on your own life.
…This definitely feels like the soggy bun version of a post. As happy as I was with my output earlier today (most of it in documents and snippets that haven’t made their way to the blog), I’m pretty meh about this post. Or maybe just a little meh in general. It’s hard not to feel stuck with so many things up in the air. Stuck romantically. Stuck professionally. Stuck geographically. My friend John wanted to know what I was going to do. I said I wasn’t sure – So Cal looks nice. He loves being out there. I think about that trip to San Diego a lot – I liked a lot of what I saw (of course, we were in vacation mode and had gotten engaged). I liked being near the ocean as well as the hills and mountains and the small-ish towns. I liked seeing B so happy in showing me her roots. Sometimes I wonder if I just liked the idea of helping B find her way back home. Maybe that’s what I’m holding out for… maybe in time that’s what I’ll find Thinking about what one of B’s friends said to me – that I brought joy and love back in to her life – I was about to write that maybe in time I’ll find someone who does that for me. I was about to quote Pink Floyd’s “two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl” line. I stopped short because I know that would be problematic. I remember reading that we are responsible for the emotions we bring in to a relationship – if we are sad, we’ll bring sadness and if we have joy, we’ll bring joy (I can’t find the quote). I remember how I felt when I met B. I had recently gotten out of a relationship that was bringing me down and holding me back. I had anxiously spent the last month telling myself it wasn’t working and not knowing how not to hurt this other person. We had been together for a little while, but never said I love you, and I didn’t feel that spark. I may have dated a bit, but I’ve only said I love you to four people in my life. It was June, I was happy. I was enjoying live shows and hiking and the going to the beach. I wasn’t looking for someone to bring me joy, but I was looking for someone to share my joy with. I don’t know how B was before we met. Her profile made it sound like she had a realistic approach to life’s ups and downs. She had experienced a lot of loss and a lot of change in moving to Philly. B would often use the word broken to describe herself, would tell me that she needed space to heal. These are things we probably should have talked about in therapy.
I still get kinda mixed up when I think too much about it – the whole cognitive dissonance thing.