Sunday, November 16, 2014



Sometimes when I would riff on a topic that shakes the conversation from its doldrums and forces people to say, “What the F*CK is he talking about?”, I would tell the that whatever had fallen from my lips was birthed from the “things that I think that I am thinking about.”  I don’t think that I should have to share the kinds of obtuse, disintegrated, musings I would share.  I mean, they weren’t any further out of left field than the things I come up with now.  But since my diagnosis, the phrase has taken on a more literal meaning.

See, once I confirmed what I thought was possibly happening to me, one of the first things that I did was gather the wisdom of the thinkers who appealed to me and set to work on a guiding belief system and put them together in one place.  Part of my goal is to really put together a philosophical treatise, whether it is for publishing or simply for my own purposes, and that has currently evolved to where I can claim to be living a “codified life”.  And THAT is one of the major stumbling blocks between Nebraska and myself.  I am agitated to the point where I don’t know if I should blog about it, talk with her about my feelings, or simply handle my emotions internally.  Let’s see what we have come up with, shall we?

After our troubling first year, I will have to admit that I have NOW categorized Nebraska and our relationship.  Now, none of the other personal and self-created memes and types that I would blog about when I was stuck dealing with the tropes I made light of, I find that I have very little use for them.  For instance, though I have dealt with single Mother’s, and have come across women who would have reason to be embittered towards men, they fit the stereotype the way that most stereotypes fit… loosely and sloppily, inexact, like anything that is “one sized fits all”.  Which is why when I am approached defensively by someone, I would say to them, “If the shoe fits, put it on.”  I know that is how I feel whenever I find myself being caught in a net broadly cast. If I feel caught by the net and struggle, then it is likely to be due to my being like dolphin caught in a tuna net… if I gotta go, I gotta go.  The only real issue that I have with being lumped into any caricature is that usually the person making the comparison themselves are unaware of the stereotype hypothesis, so why worry about their opinion?

My concerns about our “me and you” is exclusive to how we get along with one another.  If I were to  make a broad claim, the reason would be similar to the  reasons “meant to be” is REALLY my ex-wife in that have a problem with HER, singular.  It is super extremely difficult for me to ask of myself to muster up the effort to win over someone when the initial effort failed.  I found that as much as I may have wanted a second chance with Tee Jay, I could only express myself so much.  Even though I take the blame for that fail, still, I don’t know what I have to offer someone in the NOW when my best effort did not win the day the first and best opportunity.  And with my ex-wife, if she could not deal with me when I am at my best, what is there to think that now I have gotten better, she would be any more able to deal with me?

So there is that.  I don’t believe that what is of vital importance to me fits well within her goals and aims.  That brings us to the awkwardness of being “friends”.

One of the clear demonstrations of my character since I have been here alone here alone in Omaha is that I have a low need for typical social interaction.  I go where I go, and I do what I want to do… and the things that I feel in my soul can be considered "free of intellectual impurities”.  And here is where the pressures from pressing two different systems come into play and friction increases as they rub against one another.

I have made my slow and steady progress to my “whatever”, progress achieved on so many levels that my feelings are extremely complicated regarding her.  As for agreeing as far as I have to this restart of our friendship, I am still constantly twisting with conflict the purpose of my getting my life together and her role in that process.  After all, I have “Rules”, and I don’t merely want to enact in my life with the hopes of things, but rules that have been confirmed.  To have Anton Chigurh emerging from the corners of your mind, constantly asking of you, with his flat, tone-free, emotionless monotone, “If the rule you used brought you to this, of what use was the rule?”, I wonder if she can really understand the stakes that are invovled for me?

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