Skip to main content

Who Am I

It's a little bit funny (this feeling inside?) no...but I was thinking (because that's what you do best, Butch) how quickly things that are completely fucked up become the normal. Not necessarily in general...but in my life. When acceptance of a situation was handed out as a coping mechanism, I think I was given a little extra. True to form, I'm sure I said 'huh...well. I suppose I'm meant to have that much extra of this shit, so ...let's have at it then.'

Maybe acceptance isn't quite the right word. But stuff that should bother me just doesn't. And I don't think that it's that I don't or won't stand up for myself. It's more that I just don't think it's worth getting upset over. I'm (relatively) healthy. I have a (relatively) decent life. I am able to write. You're able to read it. I jam and play music with my friends. And occasionally I have a nice glass of bourbon to wind down the evening.

It really is good.

I'm going to level with you. I'm not really much of a dater. I'm not what the coffee talk ladies would call dating material.  Perhaps its that I've been out of practice for over 13 years. Perhaps it's that I don't so much mind being a home body. The whole thing is just really awkward to me. I don't know what to say. I find it hard to be natural in that construct. Mostly because I find myself trying to tell myself to 'act natural,' which of course, is impossible. If I'm acting, there's no way it's natural. Even if I'm trying to emulate through my acting, what the 'natural' Todd is like.

The real Todd is quiet. I will watch. I will observe. I will smile a lot. I will laugh. I will yearn to have the natural conversations with someone that I see happening around me.

I spend a lot of time in my head. And, while that's great for the writing Todd, it's not so hot for the Todd that has to interact with real live flesh and blood people. I have a deep seeded need to belong. To feel that someone actually wants to be my friend. I know where it comes from. I know when it started, so there's no need to get all Freudian here. It's just a statement. I will find myself telling stories that I think are interesting or neat. Things that happened to me that were kind of crazy awesome or just crazy fucked up. And in my head I'm telling these because I think they are interesting. But really I'm telling them because if I think they're interesting, and you do too, then maybe you'll want to hang out. I have (over-)analyzed these conversations and stories later and thought to myself Holy fuck did I sound like a douche.  

And then...because my mind can't really let go of anything before it takes it in to the alligator death dive, I wonder if people are just being nice to me because they're just genuinely polite. You know that thing where you weigh your friendships and you're all like I've got way more stock in the level of friends than they do. I don't know if they'd list me as a friend at all.

See what I mean?  It's a spiral.
So...if you ask me to do something that doesn't involve eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching Netflix...chances are I'm going to run a mental decathlon of what if's and 'do they really want me to show up's before I even leave the house.

The absolute cruelest irony about this whole thing is that once I actually do get out, I'm usually fine. I have fun. And I can usually just let go, shut off my brain, be in the moment. And then later I think to myself holy shit...that was actually kind of fun. I should go out more often.

And then the cycle has a chance to perpetuate.

Maybe this is normal? I don't know. Maybe our 'instant on' society has a part to play in this. Although, part of me has always had a hard time thinking that people wanted to be friends with me because of me. Look..I know it's fucked up. I get that. I'm not trying to defend it and I'm not saying it just so people can tell me how liked I am. I'm just saying....that there are times when I can't get the fuck out of my own head and see all the amazing people in my life.

And I'm sorry about that. When I hem and haw on making plans...please know that it's not you in the least bit, but it's really me trying to walk through the mine fields in my sub-conscious.

I'm sorry if I'm re-hashing bloggy blogs from days gone by, but this whole 'living alone' thing is really at the surface of my noggin these days.

And I'm pretty sure I know why. The book I'm working on has a central character who basically never leaves his apartment. And while it's not me....there's a lot of me in that character.  Maybe it's a metaphor for our society. We all have these areas that no matter how badly we might want to, we won't leave. Or maybe we don't want to leave them. Maybe we want to be isolated with the illusion now of being in touch.

I don't really know the answer, to be honest. But it sounds like I have a few more chapters to write.

After all, it's cheaper than therapy.

I leave you with a shot I took of a friend's pooch. I always smile when I see a shot of a happy dog.

Have a good rest of your day my friends,
-A.T.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Marriage Material??

I had a friend call me today, fuming. I consider myself a good listener on most days. Considering that I was out of town on a work trip and doing absolutely nothing in my hotel room, my listening game was on-point.

She recounted the exchange that sent her off. I will spare you some of the more personal details, but the gist was, at one point, the dude-bro she was talking to flat out told her that she wasn’t marriage material.

Torn between wanting to be a supportive friend and being completely gobsmacked, I felt her frustration. No. That’s not quite right. I didn’t feel the same frustration she felt. I’m approaching what some consider middle age. I’m white. I’m primarily interested in women. Oh, and I have a penis. So...no, I can never truly feel the same frustration she was feeling. Or an anger that comes from the same place her anger came from. No matter how in touch I am witn my feminine side (whatever the fuck that actually means).

Instead, the frustration and anger I was feeling w…

Post Con-Fusion

It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this morning. I was in the middle of a chapter that I started at lunch and had every intention of continuing this morning. But, much like me, it seems the characters wanted to sleep in today. They wanted to just hunker under the covers as the rain danced its hypnotic melody on my roof. The swoosh swoosh swoosh of the ceiling fan keeping time with the rest of the nocturnal orchestra.

So, I shifted gears. I am taking  a course on getting more words on the page. Something that I want to do need to do if I am to get all of these books that are floating around in my head out in to the world. It's not so much that I think the whole world will love and adore them, although I certainly hope that is the case. No, it's more the fact that it's getting crowded up there. I need to get these words on the page for my own sanity as much as anything else.

Sanity,…

The Kindness of Strangers

This post is going to be a little bit all over the place. If you know me, you are probably used to that by now. If you don't know me, welcome. My name is Todd. I'll be your slightly insecure author and docent on this tour of randomness we call Todd's Mind.

I am going to get a little real, and probably a little raw here today. I would normally be terrified of that. Of exposing myself to the world at large. But in looking at the stats for this blog in the 22weeks or so since I've left Facebook, the reality, I'm exposing myself to about 10 of you. Less if some of you come back and re-read some of the posts. So...yeah. Here goes.

I can count on 1 finger the number of times including today where I have run out of gas. Not talking about pulling into the gas station on vapors, but actually having the car die and coast to a stop because that life-giving dead dinosaur juice was no longer in the tank.

One time.

Today.

It's my own fault. I don't like to admit when I&#…