I’m freezing up as I try to think about writing in my blog instead of in my journal. What’s up with that? I can type non-stop for half-an-hour if I’m not worried about anyone reading it. But as soon as I think that I’m writing for an audience, I start to freak out a little bit. The self-censor is kicking in and trying to tell me what’s appropriate and what’s not appropriate to write about. Well, to hell with that, I’m just going to write as if I were writing in my journal and then go back and edit it later.
I used to be an actual journalist at one point in my life. I was an editor at the Columbia Missourian and The Maneater. I edited other people’s writing, so I can definitely edit mine. In my current job as a programmer, most of my coding consists of editing other people’s code, and I almost never write anything from scratch.
So I’ve been trapped at home for days now. Well, not exactly trapped. I still get in the car and go driving around. I just can’t camp out in the corner booth at McDonald’s or Jack In The Box anymore for hours a day like I’ve been doing for the last few months. And it’s making me a little weird, as I’m sure it’s doing to all the other millions of people who are suddenly housebound by social-distancing paradigms and self-quarantine.
I’ve started sleeping damn near 12 hours a day. Naps have become my good friend. I took one from three this afternoon until six this evening for example.
I need to find something else to do, so here I am back to blogging again. I’ve been journaling irregularly, but I haven’t blogged in over a month. But what the hell? Why don’t I go ahead and blog some more?
My ex-girlfriend Amy asked me to help set up a WordPress blog for her a few days ago, right after she also suggested that she could come over once in a while and walk my dogs for me. I freaked out immediately. So I didn’t even respond to her suggestions. She wished my Happy St. Patrick’s on the following day, and I wished her the luck of the Irish, but we haven’t talked since. That bothers me a bit. It probably shouldn’t. Although we are still friends, we broke up as a couple back at Thanksgiving, and she’s already got a new boyfriend. I worry that I might have hurt her feelings by not accepting her offer, and not trying to help her start her blog.
When we were dating, we’d talked a lot about having a pseudonymous blog where we talked about our crazier days that we spent doing things that aren’t widely acceptable in the current culture. We were pretty serious about it, and she was finally ready to start on her part of it, and I blew her off.
Last time that I saw her in person was a couple of weeks ago when I gave her new boyfriend a ride home from work. I told her that I was trying to get back in the habit of writing again, and she asked me to text her every time that I was going to sit down to write to remind her to go write too.
So, I reached out to her a few minutes ago as I sat down to write this evening to tell her it was time to write. I guess I’ll find out why she stopped talking to me a few days ago and if it had anything with my failure to respond to her suggestions.
I don’t communicate well with women. My last several failed relationships are ample evidence of that. I don’t seem to be able to get across what I want out of the relationship, and I don’t seem to understand what they want from me out of the relationship. And when we hit a rough patch, I fail to communicate my issues and become a passive-aggressive jerk instead, which only makes the problem worse. Thus my current decision to be celibate for at least six months and maybe longer if I still don’t feel like I’m capable of a healthy relationship.
At least my existential crisis has subsided somewhat from my last blog post. It has been replaced by cabin fever. Well, not entirely. I still am trying to figure out the meaning of life and what I ought to be doing with mine in particular, but I’m feeling less obsessive about it.
Yesterday, I managed to distract myself by rearranging the furniture in my office. We’ll see what distractions tomorrow holds.