The last few weeks have been a ton of calm contemplative, at times excited, at times hopeful, at times full of despair moments. The freedom that I feel, at the same time well used and squandered, is much more complicated than being overall good or bad.  I am grateful that this space has been a safe place for me.

I see the things I do when I’m confident and the things I am afraid of doing when I have no confidence in myself.  I am content in this place, and I wonder if I am ultimately afraid of traveling again, or that I am only contented because there is a ticking clock in even my most immediate circumstances. 

If a society was a ground that holds everyone up, then, in this one, the cracks run deep and people fall through all the time.  People grow up in cracks, people throw others into cracks, and some just have the ground fall out from under them.  Those who choose to vacate their spot, then amidst all of what else there is, still stand by with a bucket of cement, I wish more of those kinds of people were in office, or that everyone just listened to more.

An ex of mine always referred to hitting rock bottom.  I think that I may have always been offended by that term, because to me, rock bottom is death.  I think financial rock bottom was what was intended, but I think that that’s become a farce, because I have been more enriched by my life  since I’ve had little to no money.  I support myself because there are a lot of kind people, and there are a few who have resources that they use for purely selfish reasons to the detriment of the future of everyone. I support myself by the support of everyone I’ve met, not just my employer or my family.

I’ve learned ways in which to support myself beyond even the need to be supported by having a corporate government supported retirement (insert retirement numbers here).  It’s as simple as breaking ground.  But isn’t merely supporting myself just another selfish reason.

In good fiction, you never make the subtext, text. If you do, it’s only to let go of it, because your story has moved on.  I am making this struggle text so that I can absolve myself of the difficulties that I’ve had in writing. Resolving to do things is hard, and making resolutions not to do things feels easier, but is impossible.  Unless restraints are put on you.  Those who speak of ultimate freedom are not trusted until their experience proves their word, and sometimes that proof is attained at the cost of others. This has been the sway of history, and intentions both bad and good are a matter of influence.

Now that the information age is just starting, or coming to a close, depending upon your perspective, it will never go away, and its remnants have made a permanent mark on this planet.  What we do now may even change the course, and perhaps may wipe away signs that this planet had such a singular experience that is our life. In the great ages of humanity, among them the Stone, Bronze and infamous Nuclear age, it is what defines you and me that I am the product of all of those generations.

I am hopeful for the future of myself, everyone and the planet.  I affirm just about everything I’ve said in this blog so far, because it is the history of me, sparse and emotional and really boring sometimes.  With maybe a good poem here or there.  Of course reaffirmation is boring, but if I have to do the third thing, then will definitely tell you about it blogosphere.

I am typing in the sunshine again while staring at a pile of old and weathered things.  There is a tv satt. dish on it’s metal tripod its cords a clump of spaghetti hovering above the ground. A bike somewhere the color between lavender and smoke, with blocky treads. Dust crowded into its crevices. Stone lamps that look like urns with thick ropes as decoration. a wooden chair inverted leaning against a lazy looking bookcase that just lounges against a flattened television box that advertises a game system and online entertainment. But the real support is offered by the dresser or desk if a metaphor can be made of that. And hiding behind even more stuff is an exercise machine, I know that it’s an exercise machine because of the black padding and sturdy metal bars bent into strange shapes, but I am not sure what exactly it’s meant to workout.  None of these things seems to be broken, perhaps replaced, or unused.  It makes me wonder about their value.

If everyone has a value, then there is a natural hierarchy of values that will develop because of my observations.  But people are not things, so considering their value is not the right way to think about it.