Thirty Plus One

Perhaps you thought from the last entry that I was depressed. I don't think so. Sometimes you get to a spot where you wonder what the silly heck you're doing, though. I feel a bit like I've been trapped in a time warp, carrying on doing things that all my friends were doing in their twenties while they all move on to things most people are doing in their thirties - marrying, having children. It's a disconcerting thing to reach 31 years and realize that mostly, I've formed. This is what I am. For most of my twenties I was trying to figure out what I was and learn to like it. Now I am it, encrusted.

It's hard to realize that most of what has made me like this is hurt and my response to it. Recently I've felt empty of love, that thing which is so vital to the health of the heart. My response to my recent hurts has been to hone myself into a sharp object and slice through the world before it even comes close. It looks like self-assurance. It feels like hell. 31 and despite all this trying, I still don't know how to love people ...

Oh blast. I was hoping to come out bright and cheery eventually in this, but I guess it's not happening. Can't fight the Muse. It is what it is.

Thanks to all who wrote and called on my birthday. I do feel loved. I am having a good time here. We are doing some good. So we've got all that.

The rest of it is just the insides of me.