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Let’s cut our losses at both ends…

June 25, 2006

The sounds of leaves crunching under my feet with every step has been replaced by the sound of waves breaking and crashing onto the shore and the flap of a pelican’s wings. And believe it or not. I miss the former. There are parts of my life in Indiana, specifically at IU that I know I’m going to miss. Those cold walks to class. The deceiving glare of the sun on a frigid January morning. Those first couple weeks of school where everything is new and fresh. All of the excited freshman wandering around campus, maps and class schedules in hand. It’s hard to believe that part of my life is over. I feel like with every place I’ve ever been in my life, once I leave, I develop a real romanticized notion of the comfort that place afforded me. Bloomington my little hamlet. I can understand now why people look back so fondly on their college experiences. It’s not because they had a necessarily always had a fabulous time. It’s not like they spent the entirety of their college lives snorting lines off the butt cheeks of skanky sorority girls (except for the President). But it’s because they think back to how that experience insulated them. Bloomington has that effect on me certainly. It was as if the city limits protected us from the world outside. I guess my advice is enjoy where you are at that moment because before you know it, you’ll be sending letters from a different zip code. Enjoy where you are whether it’s Bloomington or Destin or Bangor.

I don’t want to get the impression that I don’t enjoy living down here. Don’t get it twisted. I wake up everyday in paradise. I go to the beach on the weekends, lose my thoughts in that water, a shade of blue and green that I’ve never seen anywhere else. I like having my grocery store that I go to. I like going to restaurants full of other locals, seeking refuge from the crowds of tourists. I like telling people “Yeah come down and see me and we’ll hang out at the beach.” I work, live and play in paradise. But I’ll soon be missing those Indiana falls.

There are some people who I’m just not sure you ever get over. There are relationships that run their course, burn out for one reason or another. Die of natural causes. And then there are others. Weeks spent talking on the phone, a couple nights spent laughing, talking, existing from moment to moment. And then it disappears into the ether. For no particular, it’s added to another list of experiences in your life. “Cause of death : to be determined.” Then over time, you either come to terms with why that didn’t work or it just stays there. Leaving you to wonder from time to time, “I wonder how she is.” Those are called blind spots. When you never really get over someone. When you never find some part of their personality repugnant or incompatible with your own, the feeling that you have for them is still there. Laying beneath the surface. Not unlike the loch ness monster, you know it’s probably there but it doesn’t surface very often. I think my love for analogies or metaphors has officially spiraled out of control.

A friend of mine wrote something very interesting yesterday that had me thinking. Something to the effect that someone’s perception of love is not another’s. What you find horribly romantic or sexy, another person could just as easily be repelled by. But I’d like to think that I’ll know it when I find it. I’ll know when I’m laying there with someone and feeling like the world is no bigger than the bedroom. Feeling that all that is going on in the world is nothing more than a television show that we can simply turn off when it gets too frightening or too sad. I’m sure reading this it would be kind of easy to get the impression that I’m one who is in constant search of companionship, but that’s not necessarily the case at all. I’d like to be happy, I’d like to find someone who I feel safe with. Someone I can depend on and who can depend on me at a time when dependability is in short supply. But searching for something like that is an easy way to fool yourself. Fool yourself into thinking that the person sitting across the table could be the answers to all of your questions when in reality they can barely answer one. Life’s way too short to be with someone who doesn’t challenge you (not in a bad way.. not someone so contentious that it leaves you in a constant state of discomfort), someone who doesn’t make you want to be better for her.

Song that was playing when I finished this:
Twenty Four Hours

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