Dear Diary (not really)…

This space has been dormant the past few weeks, and that’s partially my fault.  I’ve been exceedingly busy, but I’ve been getting a lot done.  I’ve been feeling better, and my Other has been a fair-bit quieter.  Not really even pacing the edge of my thoughts, just… quiet.  Mildly contented, perhaps.  I have to explore that in more depth.

Work has continued to remain in a perpetual cycle of  interesting exercises in office-political-gymnastics, frustrations, and triumphs over conventional (and some not-so-conventional) problems.  It’s strange, because I haven’t really felt as invested as I am at this point; as switched-on, as it were.  I’ve learned a lot more since my former manager left, and I’ve felt like I’ve had more say in a few situations, not to mention I feel like I’m actually engaged.  I’ve actually been making an honest effort to curse less at work (as a friend of mine would say, “Egads!”), I’ve been working to take on new tasks and documentation, and I’ve been working pretty damned hard to make sure that things are getting done the right way.  As it was, I set-up a couple MySQL binlog slaves to resolve an issue that had been ongoing for a fairly sizable amount of time… all in after-hours work, in fact.  I got a little bit of recognition for that, which made me feel better about taking complete ownership of the situation and the resolution that was brought about… makes me wonder if this is a better situation and a more acceptable pattern to be involved with.  This comes on the heels of becoming a little more detached from the rise-and-fall of the everyday victories… I think I like where most of this is going.

Been deep in my head the last couple of weeks since all the energetic- and mental-thrashing.  Feeling like I’m standing on the precipice of some strange gap, toes staring down through space into the yawning maw of the abyss of possibilities.  There’s not really a sense of fear in any of this, as I know I’ll be okay… just a sense of longing.  A rope around my neck tugging gently backwards, thrumming and pulsing with the vibrations of memories, places, spaces, and faces from days long-since passed.  I am not being choked by it, but it rests there like a leash… the vibrations that emanate from it are alluring and have a hypnotic quality to them… but at the same time, I know those memories are just that: memories.  Places I can’t go back to without conscious effort without interrupting my current path and energy work.  It makes me sad sometimes, but when I’m not feeling sad about those memories, I am contented to know that I have had them and that they have given me space and energy to grow, learn, and experience.  It is with a sincere amount of effort that I trudge onward along the precipice, knowing full-well that I cannot see the path and its infinite forks, forms, switchbacks, and choices… in this, I feel that I am taking on the mantle of some larger calling, taking the concept of an “explorer-psychonaut” and making it mine.

In the periphery, I sometimes feel as though I hear echoes.  Faint whispers and (what would seem to be) parent-like chuckles of amusement and approval.  As if I’m being watched and watched-over, so-to-speak.  Sometimes I feel an energetic push on the side of my leg, like a cat or dog would lean against you if it were familiar with you and showing you deference and affection… some days I chalk it up to an errant wind or a nerve firing incorrectly, but other times it’s warm and it “glides” against me like fur would.  Maybe I’m losing it, but with all that I feel that I’ve experienced, and with others’ descriptions of further experiences looming in the distance like some kind of Ziggurat on the horizon, I still believe that I’m sane… or at least, as sane as anyone can be in this mad, mad world.

I may have stated this in the past, but some days I just feel “old”.  Not necessarily old in-body, but like an old soul.  I’ve never really had much luck communicating with people younger than myself, yet I’ve had the opposite experience with people that are older than I am or are the same age.  It’s as if there’s a language barrier there, or a kind of perceived experience-gap that I don’t quite understand.  I’ve been told that my communications skills are fantastic when they’re utilized in an official capacity while at work, with authority figures, with a circle of friends… but there’s “communicating” and then truly communicating.  Ideas, expressions, concepts, abstracts; all of these things I have a hard time conveying to some people.  It’s as if a wall exists between myself and others that blocks deeper and more-complete meanings from them and prevents me from being as effective as I truly feel I should be.  Maybe I’m just not using enough energy or conveying them in the appropriate fashion?  Not tuning-in to the appropriate wave-length?  I will have to investigate this further…

Bouldering “footwork” class tomorrow, then a work day event with the Pink Heart camp in preparation for Burning Man.  I should sleep sometime soon… some days I miss my childhood.  Some days I miss my time in Florida.  Some days I wish I could go back…

Only way to go is forward.  Into the yawning maw of possibilities, I suppose.

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