For some strange reason I find myself wide awake at this ridiculous time of night, writing on my laptop in Ann’s living room rather than curled up naked with her in bed. I kind of drifted off for a while when we laid down together but only a few minutes later was struck by the insomnia bug, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling, heart racing as though I’d just finished an espresso. It’s even raining out, which is normally better than sleeping pills for me. What the fuck is up? I don’t know.
The trip to see Ann has been better than I could have wished for, she’s an amazing hostess (in many, many ways) and we’ve been having a really good time together. Yes, there has been an amazing amount of sex so far, to be expected (yet always appreciated), but that will probably be thoroughly explored in later posts. Right now, I want to talk about change.
I don’t do well with change. Until I was eight years old I lived with my family in a tiny cabin with only two rooms, no electricity or water, in the middle of nowhere. I still remember being totally devastated when my parents told me we were moving away from the only home I’d ever known, even though there was a long, long list of good reasons for it.
Pros: Closer to friends, work, school. Running water. Indoor plumbing. Electricity. More room to share between the kids. Neighborhood kids. More things to do close by.
For many people, they can see the positive benefits to something and make the conscious decision to change their life. As an 8 year old, I was just about totally incapable of seeing the positive benefits of change… I’m only slightly better as an adult. I’m one of those people that wants to put down roots somewhere, know the neighbors, work the same job for a long time, be in a comfortable monogamous relationship, and not travel all that much. Granted, I’ve done a lifetime’s worth of traveling and exploring in my adult life so far, but the point remains, I’m like a quiet, steady rock, change isn’t on my list of strengths.
(Or maybe a quiet, steady, distrustful rock)
I’m so averse to change that I can almost feel change before it happens. It feels like eddies of wind starting to gather at ankle-height, slowly gaining strength and altitude, setting off my internal alarms, raising the hair on the back of my neck. Something wicked this way comes…
Of course, there isn’t really anything such as a good change or a bad change, those are interpretations of events. Change is simply change, things that once were one way aren’t anymore. The good or bad labels come from people’s one dimensional perspectives, ultimately pointless and meaningless. Change is simply change, it isn’t something to fear, dread, or cheer, it’s simply the next step in life.
The only thing that is constant is change.- Heraclitus
There’s no good or bad changes, yet when I feel the changes coming it makes me want to hide under the blankets and visit a river in Egypt (de-nile, if you’ve never heard that joke before). Even if completely miserable with the current situation, change is never really welcomed in my life.
And I feel the large changes coming.
One of the changes is that I’m going to be spending less time here on WordPress. I still love to write, I’m still going to write and post, there’s nothing that’s lacking from the community here. It’s not that I’m not getting enough good things from the site, I’m getting the good things in spades but accompanied by too many less valuable things. Blogging has never been about social networking for me, it’s simply a portal for sharing thoughts, stories, ideas, that are wholly mine and that’s it. But WordPress makes it so easy to get so involved with the other bloggers, building communication, bouncing back and forth, building communities of like-minded individuals, which all sounds wonderful until I realized how much of my time is consumed with non-writing tasks on WordPress.
There’s a reason I hate Facebook, 90% of the time spent on that site is completely wasted, and I’ve let WordPress seduce me into wasting far too much time on the site. There is all the immediate gratification of “Likes” and comments, you can track your stats in a dozen different ways, you can easily find and follow like-minded bloggers… But I keep coming back to a single question: why did I start a blog? I started a blog to have a creative outlet, a writing venue where I could say and write whatever the fuck I want. I started blogging to write… and yet probably only half the time I spend on this site is actually spent writing. That’s one of the things that needs to change.
I’m going to get better at prioritizing my life. Ann is important, family is important, writing is important, running and working are important. Those are the things I need to focus on, not bullshit on the internet that distracts me.
If that was the only impending change, I wouldn’t be so unnerved. I think there are other big things coming, not good or bad, but big change nonetheless. I might be around less often, but I will still be posting about whatever it is speeding down the road.
Of course, everything sounds more ominous at this hour of the night.
The rain has slowed down, almost stopped. There’s so much moisture still in the air that when I look out the windows there are hazy halos around the street lights. Every outdoor surface glistens. It dark outside, it’s late, but it’s that kind of city-darkness where the intensity has been dialed down but it’s far from being actually dark.
Upstairs my love slumbers on without me, unaware of my late-night disappearance.