Oct. 12th, 2015

paulak_rumin8: Robert Frost (miles to go)
Once in a while a mood grabs hold of me and cranks up the volume on something raucous with a lot of cymbal, like Led Zeppelin's "Rock and Roll," instead of unceremoniously changing the channel. For a little while, I just sat, driving the car, the part of me that craves contradiction smugly enjoying the noise at the expense of the gentler, less edgy part of me. It was a kind of symbolic bludgeoning of that other part of me that is conscientious and responsible. Some sort of existential rebellion, I guess.

Anyway, my sister graciously volunteered to take my GMC Yukon and seven children downstate with her for the week, which leaves me with a big, quiet house. Not quite free, I am still encumbered by my full-time job and my sons' evening paper routes, two fairly low-key cats, and one un-dead frog. The thing has been with us for coming up on sixteen years. Seriously, I don't know whether it will die, or it did some years ago and I live with a post-mortem, perpetually animated pseudo-amphibian. The frog hatchery kit claimed I would be a frog-owner for five years max. Hah! The little creature has outlived the store I got him from by at least a decade.

I'm riding that line between seeking social interaction and "why bother?". The latter has carried me for the past several months, at least, and maybe the majority of my life. Ideally, I'd have one deep-rooted friendship, a soulmate. I know, sounds cliché, but I mean that. I do great with just one best friend. I even appreciate peripheral friends and friendly acquaintances better, armed with a solid best friend. I had one, for probably a good 15 year stretch. That may happen again. Who knows? But I can see from here it's a hell of a long way back, and I don't know how much time it's going to take to get there.

In the meantime, I write. That is a safe, sufficient outlet. I have nothing profound to say. This doesn't even approach "art." Maybe it more appropriately belongs in a journal somewhere, but at least here, online, it's going somewhere. Even if it's a pebble toss in a canyon, at least it's traveling. And I don't have the time or the heart to put the requisite effort into a work of fiction right now. No, throwing pebbles into the abyss is sufficient for one night.

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paulak_rumin8

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