Monday, March 2, 2015



I feel consciously and conspicuously better these days.  My newest 'scrpt seems to be doing its job and I am grateful for it.  The shadows of my condition have grown a bit longer in the sense that they could not get better and can only worsen over time.  Is 8 1/2 years long enough for signs of some degradation of my personal state?  This will be the third time that I have had my anxiety medication changed to something else, and who knows how many more times in my life I may need to have an adjustment to my medication?

If the future is written, and we become good friends at some as of yet unknown time, the time from the summer of 2013 until the point when we again become relevant in one another's lives again, will we say that in the fading winter of 2015, the lowest point between Nebraska and myself was reached.  At times, our relationship has resembled the kind of discussions that I'd imagine pass for the negotiations between the Israelis and the Palestinians, and there still is enough there for me to not completely throw in the towel on our friendship.  And if the climate between us remains a frigid as it currently is, well, I have ridden my bike through plenty of cold, inhospitable, winters in my life.  I think that they way that I have handled them, both the real and those made up of the unseen forces that come between two people, has me wanting me to shrug my shoulders and say that "whatevs" as the appropriate comment should the final exchange of email be what becomes of our relationship and Nebraska in my life.


The particulars of our earliest, pre-concept, conversations are lost to me.  I really did not think to save our emails or IM's because, again, why?  But the ones that I do have, particularly those around our very first IRL meet in Chicago during the pre-holiday season of 2010 and early 2011 only reaffirmed what I tried to express to her as I explained why when I got to Omaha, I did not feel obliged to engage in a full-bore pursuit of a relationship with her.  That said, even if some of the "pre-historic" emails and IM's that I did not save were true, by my Mom's advice, the relationship between us was tabled.

As I grew more into my own person, I observed that things were not as clear cut as the metaphorical Agent of Death that Anton Chigurh would have one to believe.  Not even my cranky philosophical mentors, Nietzsche and Schopenhauer, would have considered my approach as strict and pure adherence to their thinking either.  I did not have a way to make what I felt a solid piece of thinking, something that I could transmit as an idea to another person, until I read a quote by then-besieged Notre Dame football coach Bob Davie.  At the height of the rivalry between the University of Miami Hurricanes and the Notre Dame Fightin' Irish, he said in an interview after a particularly heinious-looking performance by the Irish in the old Orange Bowl and home of the Hurricanes, that "we knew the environment" (which could be exchanged with Dennis Green's rant after a game between his Arizona Cardinals and the Chicago Bears..!), meaning that they knew what they were getting into and had prepared with the intentions of giving a better performance.  Still, the rule remains that once a person shows you that they don't like you...

I took what she said about meeting me and stated then that I did think as highly of her as I had before my visit; in fact I thought even more highly over her because she treated me well IN SPITE of her diminished expectations.  So, I knew what I was getting into with her and it was confirmed when I made the trip to fill out the paperwork for my apartment here in town.  Far or unfair, that is how I roll with EVERYONE. 

Operating under the idea that it is easy to be crappy to people over the computer and much harder to do it to someones face... to MY face.  For those who have seen me, the people in my life that know me, could not imagine ANYONE saying some of the things that have been said via email to me.  So imagine my reaction when I saw some of the same traits from those conversations on display as we sought to establish a connection... which must have included some level of willful ignorance.


We've known each other for something on the order of 13 years.  Nearly from the beginning, I not only told her about how I felt about Omaha, but how I felt towards her and WHY.  Nearly all the time that I was single and really ready to mingle, she was indifferent, to say the least, my entreaties.  Then when I made my claiming statement and let her know that I was going to move here, she was still waffling in what she felt towards me and our possible relationship.  Going back to how excited I was after getting to Omaha and meeting a bus driver who was is a Detroit native, I could not hope to explain how good I felt about my decision.  What this meant was that if the rule(s) that I had believed in once I decided to "grow up" in my early thirties, that I had to, at some point, decide to live a life that reflected the life that I want to be remembered for on my deathbed.  Asking for a clean slate, down a path that no foot had disturbed, I was going to make this my last chance, and that is what inspired my drive to write down the things that shape my person.

In this journal I have set out to empty myself of the mental detritus that I felt was responsible for some of my less-than-good choices in life.  I had assessed the things that I had made poor choices on, then I resolved to not make those choices again.  The things that I was thankful for, like being an African-American in the late-20th century and not in any other time prior.  Thankful for the kind of Mother that would let me think and do for myself to the extent that she did.  With all my things to be thankful for, I felt obliged to actually get back on the grid and make something of myself.

My life is no longer mine.  I have had a super great run... if I wanted to be in a happy marriage, well, why did I not do better in high school?  Same thing with a better career, more success in professional boxing, having more fulfilling interpersonal relationships.  When I was in high school, I simply should have done better.  Underachievers, puh-LEEZE try harder!!

And now... it doesn't matter that when we first met online that Nebraska did not take me as serious as I had hoped.  It doesn't matter that she did not take me seriously when I made the decision to move to Omaha.  And I think that even as my things arrived at her house, she may not have taken me seriously... she certainly did not after my arrival... and that is why you have to wonder WHO the hell doesn't take the third game of the preseason seriously? 

We have been in separate worlds almost since I arrived here.  Save for rare occasions, meeting her Moms and girls for supper... when I got hit shortly afterwards by a car (hello 2012..!), and when she came over with her daughter and bailed me out with a project, we have been on different wavelengths, and that is just that with that.  So... that said... really, who takes the third game of the preseason seriously?  Our starters all played 3 quarters... they are who that we thought they were!!

...and who we thought they were... is exactly who they are.


Anonymous said...

I'm glad the new meds are working. I think the next generation will have it better than we did- the science of balancing our brain chemistry is still in its infancy.

Ken Riches said...

Seeing you post again, on a more consistent basis, confirms the new meds are doing their trick!