Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve been getting in contact with some old friends, long lost and even forgotten, at least for a time. Perhaps it’s that with some that I only speak to on a rare occassion, I’ve been communicating with more frequently. Perhaps it’s the fact that I feeel so many of my friends have been leaving town, including my own sister, who has returned to our home town to persue other ventures (only an hour away, but still).
Perhaps… my social nature is beginning to surface more and more?
I’m not one to never let go of old times, but I do have to admit, at least in high school, I knew where I stood (not that I liked where I stood, but at least it was familiar territory). Now, every day can feel like I’m a mouse in a maze without a map, and the future is always uncertain, whereas in high school plans of college, work, dorm life, and more were simply assumed.
And now, I’m having to truly live. And, by live, I also mean occassionally acting in an adultish-manner. Ocassionally.
Woah, wait a second, don’t assume that I’m talking about being an adult in such ways as paying bills, running errands, working a real, honest-to-God job, and trying to figure out how to get cat hair out of the DVD player. There is more to life than just bills, work, errands, and cleaning cat crap with caustic chemicals, and too many people forget this fact.
In high school, I wasn’t as concerned about personal identity, about creative outlets, about my own philosophy. Instead, I was more concerned with doing what pretty much everybody has at the forefront of their minds during their high school years; which is getting the hell out of high school. Perhaps I should have spent all of that wasted time breaking out of the shackles of repressed identity that the public school system had placed me in. Perhaps I should have been writing, reading, creating… philosopherizing even. Not to mention learning proper conjugation of the word “philosophy.”
After high school, I lost touch with a lot of people. Even with the “Great 8″, who I had told myself would always be my friends, and who would drift, we simply scattered, destined to live our own lives and introduce closer, more accessible acquantances into our little daily dramas.
Since I am so fond of using other people’s words to describe my thoughts and feelings, I’ll put it in a cliche: Youth is wasted on the young.
The funny thing? I never felt that young. I know I’m not old by most standards, and I’m not saying I feel old either. I just feel… me. As if that makes any sense.
Perhaps I’m having an identity crisis.
It’s hard to associate an age to my mental and emotional states. I look back on the times when I was around the ages of 5 or 10, and I do realize I was young. At the time, I wouldn’t have admitted to it, of course, and now I understand, but not regret, my immaturity. I realize that there is a time and place for everything, and at that time, I was in the right place. I’m guessing that in 20 years, I’ll look back on now and feel the same way, but the ratio will not be the same. In other words, most of my maturing, at least in terms of mind and awareness, has been done in the last few years, and I’m concerned that I’ve reached my potential.
This is not to say that I won’t be able to rise above my potential. I see people do it every day, and it truly amazes me, and is generally one of the primary ways I judge an individual.
But I fear that my ability to grow, as a human, as a writer, as a computer technician, as a friend, as… as this jumbled pile of person, will slow to a crawl.
I used to hate the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I never knew the right answer. Various possible professions were interesting to me, but nothing ever really clicked. To this day, things still don’t click, and I know that I will probably not remain in my current career until I take up fishing and whining about how the current music scence sucks utter ass. Instead, on many days, I get a vague disatisfaction, a striving need for… something, deep in the pit of my stomach. Call it a craving, a desire, an urge even, to find out all there is to know about the human condition and do all I can with myself. This journey of discovery has led me down paths that I never wanted to travel, and others that I never even knew existed.
It’s been quite educational. And frightening. And creepy. And perplexing. And even, at times, spasmodically stupid.
That’s when it gets particularly interesting.
One little mystery that I believe I have solved, not really through Sherlock Holmes style philosophical clue-hunting, but more through random meandering, is what I’m looking for in a relationship, and why I harp on them (or obvious lack thereof) so often in this pathetic excuse for a creative canvas that I laughingly term a “blog”.
Ultimately, it comes down to the fact that I’m tired of being alone, but that statement is a gross oversimplification.
The best way I know to explain it is thusly…
I’m looking for the other side of my soul.
“Wha?” I hear you say.
Give me a moment, and I’ll see if I can dispense with further distortification of languisism and verbogeny and actually restate that statement in a way that makes some semblance of sense.
Confused? Good. Now you know how I feel about 99 and 44 percent of the time. (Insert shameless plug for Ivory Soap here)
Basically, I’m looking for my complement. Friends would be good, and even possibly a… partner? (Significant other? Shameless sextoy? What the hell is the term these days, anyway? Now you know why I’m Behind the Times).
To paraphrase, I’m trying to find someone who understands me at least more than 50% of the time that I don’t have to worry about moving on when I need them most. Or at least, the expectation is there that I will move with them, given time and understanding regarding the situation.
Okay, so to reword my paraphrasing, I’m looking for the woman that I can spend the rest of my life with that will not only be my partner, but my friend, to walk with on the road of life until that road should end.
…
So, to clarify my rewording of the paraphrase, I’m trying to find my best friend, lover, partner, confidant, and complement all wrapped up into one, neat little package.
Hmmmm. Alright, to qualify the clarification of the rewording of the paraphrase, I’m looking for the One.
Damn. This is harder then I thought. This is rapidly regressing into the House that Jack built.
Now you know kind of what I went through when I first signed up for online dating, and trying to define both myself and what I want. Hell, I don’t even know what I want for dinner, or what clothes to wear to work tomorrow, or if I should install PHP 5 Release Candidate 2 or stick with the tried and true 4.3.6 software on my new Slackware Linux 2.6 server.
I mean, 4.3.6 is stable, and still feature-rich, but the new 5 has got some awesome capabilities and a new and improved XML engine, as well as improved stream control.
But I digress.
Here’s what I wrote about myself in Dreammates.com, the latest venture into the dark jungle that is online dating…
About Me: An intelligent, caring individual interested in philosophy, politics, and finding a woman who can meet or exceed my intellect. I have very eclectic tastes, and I’m not at all simple to understand. I enjoy writing, reading, and I usually vascilate between goofy and formal, depending on my surroundings.
And here’s what I want:
I love a woman who can stimulate and challenge my mind, as well as my emotions. I’m also looking for someone who’s emotionally intelligent and mature. If you enjoy getting into interesting, friendly discussions, I urge you to contact me.
If the eyes are the gateway to the soul, I hope to be able to look in your eyes and see the stars.
Wow. That’s cheesey, huh? Gouda thing that this one is only $20 a month.
Sorry, couldn’t resist.
Just to let you know, I’m having infinitely more luck on this service, than I ever did on eHarmony, in terms of quantity. But in terms of quality, I haven’t really met anyone that’s really just… clicked.
There’s that concept of “clicking” again. I think my clicker might be broken.
Until next time.
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