I'm exhausted and overwhelmed. A combination of this boot camp and a cold that won't go away, and the rapid turmoil happening around me as Housemate and 517 plan to move out in a couple of weeks and get married in a few months. I'm talking to new potential roommates and trying to figure out basic household administrivia -- do I need to buy a vacuum cleaner? Which cookware is mine, and which is about to disappear from the kitchen? Ack.
Meanwhile I've been getting to know a new fellow, which is a slow process that my impatient mind wants to rush and categorize and make lots of rules and judgments about. And Tuesday night I went to the sports bar to watch the UNC/Virginia Tech game and found myself the object of the attentions of a handsome pilot, in town on a brief layover, who made me laugh and touched the small of my back. Felt nice. And an old flame is coming through town and suggests dinner, and a guy I met at a Christmas party wants to see me next week, and was it only three weeks ago that I concluded I was undateable? Perhaps that was premature.
Anyway, all this hasn't left a lot of time or attention for my routine, which includes blogging. The title of this post is "I Miss You" and that's true -- I miss comments, a sense of connection with you folks, mysterious strangers to me but somehow friendly forces in my life. But I realize as I'm writing this that I miss me. I miss my own sense of groundedness in my own life. I miss time to reflect, which is what this time, sitting here composing a post and uncovering what it is I really feel, means for me.
With this new guy I'm getting to know, I'm trying NOT to reflect too much. I'm trying to just be in the moment, but I'm amazed at how much my brain wants to hijack that unfolding process, to make lists of pros and cons, to compare and contrast. It's too soon to conclude or analyze anything. I think that was one of the things I realized in this post. My habit of pinpointing and articulating feelings, as if explaining something makes it all understandable and safe, might not be all that appropriate or useful. It's like what the football coach said the other day. To make the most out of practice: show up, shut up, and get up. Sometimes I need to shut up and just do things. I'm in the habit of articulating and analyzing most everything that I experience. Time and motion and exhaustion and self-restraint are keeping me from doing that right now. I think it's good for me. But I miss it. And I miss sharing it with you.
Are you still there? Anything to say to me? I'd love to hear from you, in the comments. Maybe because everything's changing, I'd like to know you'll be there with me.