I am so so very blocked. It is unlike any other block that I’ve encountered before. So this is what I am doing, I am going to just type through it.

I’d like to think that my words mean something, but I know that they only mean as much as the reader takes from them in the end. Of course since I am the first reader of these words, they will always mean something to me, so long as I understand them.  The distinction is that I am the writer and it becomes a sort of masturbation to be the only one who takes meaning from the words that I put to the keyboard.

So, then to validate the things that I write, others must read it, and also understand the ideas that I am trying to convey.  But, is that the only validation that I should shoot for? To be humble, for sure that is all I should expect, but to become better, I desire discussion.  To become better, I need feedback and to continue to be on the correct course of rationality and intelligence, I need to know when I am mistaken.  Over time, it is possible to figure out my mistakes with thought and observation, but there always seems to be the ticking clock.

The midwest in the summer feels very much like doldrums.  I have walked quite a lot, and realized how easy the passed several months have been on me, and how little I have to show for it. And I really don’t know what I’m worrying so much about, because I did have some experiences that I will remember for a long time. I’ve made new friends, and I have visited some unique places.  Why is it that I want more?

I’ve been ruminating on reputation for the past couple days. I’ve been worried about the places that I’ve returned to, and the groups that I’ve worked with, and if they will be warm in welcoming me back, or as tepid as some of the others.  I feel like I’ve done great things, for great people, in great places, but that they are all mutually exclusive.  It is foolish of me to believe that there is an ideal, because all of these things have their respective challenges that they face, but is it foolish for me to believe that I can create, or fit into something to make it ideal?

For some reason, it feels like things should seem easier as I gain skill in tackling the issues.  However, my observation has shown that the opposite occurs.  Maybe it has something to do with entropy, but walking miles and miles is so so hard.  Even moreso in this, the heat of the summer.  Flagging down a ride feels like it’s taking longer and longer, or my attention span to do so is becoming less and less.

Perhaps, though, it is because this is the first time that I’ve travelled so steadily in the summer.  Perhaps, the general temperament of the people are so wildly different because of the area, or time of year, or the shifting societal conciousness has become more apathetic, or angry.  One of my dear friends has started spouting out deeply uncompassionate thought, he’s also gained belly and just generally seems fixated on his lover. Who deserves the attention because she just seems awesome, but is it possible for a great person to not be good for someone?

Loneliness is rough.  It builds self-sufficiency while bolstering self-centeredness. The feeling of freedom without the checks and balances of objective observation, and yet paradoxically there isn’t motivation of agreement in ethics.  When you are alone, you are free to do anything, but not as free if you were to have a partner-in-crime.

Okay, so now I’m going to post this immediately because I’ve actually finished writing it in one sitting.  That is my way.

Wistful in Wisconsin.

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