What should I be doing?

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a pretty organized person. I like things a certain way. And when the order of my surroundings is compromised, I take immediate action. Almost unconsciously. Instinctively. It just seems natural to me to want to set things right. In a sense, I think it's this particularly idiosyncratic personality trait of mine that's kept me from buckling under the pressure of some determinately preeminent life changes. It's been a challenge, but I think I'm close to once again having everything in its right place. Still, I can't help but notice that something is missing. Something critical. I know now better than ever what that significant something happens to be, but for the life of me I can't figure out how to go about obtaining it. I think Jason Schwartzman put it best in the opening scene to I Heart Huckabees, which goes as follows:

"Motherfucking cocksucker motherfucking shit fucker what am I doing? What am I doing? I don't know what I'm doing. I'm doing the best that I can. I know that's all I can ask of myself. Is that good enough? Is my work doing any good? Is anybody paying attention? Is it hopeless to try and change things? [...] I'm fucked! Maybe I should quit. Don't quit! Maybe I should just fucking quit. Don't fucking quit! I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to fucking do anymore! Fucker! Fuck shit!"

Maybe that's a little over the top, but I can't help but share a similar underlying sentiment with regard to my life of late. And I'm not quite sure the best way to go about addressing it. I don't want to give up, but I don't want to keep doing what I'm doing either. I feel like I need to try something else. Something new. A different approach. But as for what that looks and feels like? I am at a complete and utter loss!

Humble Pie

If you've ever been burned, you know how much it hurts.  Every time I touch my hand to a hot eye on the stove, the first place my reactive mind goes is, "Holy piss, who the fuck left that shit on?!"  Then, as the initial shock wears off, I fall quiet.  Feel silly, even.  And in a matter of seconds, the pain fades into memory.

I've spent the better part of the last eight months burning hot with anger over the way one particular aspect of my life was unfolding.  But instead of stepping out of the fire, I continued to stand right smack in the middle of it.  I wanted it to keep burning - even got to a point where I was comfortable with the pain.  You might even say - for a minute - I was loving it!  I know it sounds ridiculous.  Idiotic.  As I'm writing this, I'm shaking my own head with disbelief.  And now, my reflective mind is asking, "Holy hell, what the fuck was wrong with you man?!"

In all seriousness, someone finally reached out and pulled me from the fire tonight (special props to you - you know who you are)!  Now, for the first time in eight months, I can see well beyond the flames and smoke.  I'll certainly say, it feels good to be out of there.  Dust myself off.  At the same time, that fire burned so hot for so long that it left one hell of a crazy mess.  The fallout is astounding.  And I'm sure I must look all kinds of awful...

It may not be a matter of seconds, minutes, hours, days... months?  Who knows.  However long it takes, though, I look forward to feeling silly about all this.  A good friend said to me just moments ago, "What we do next is what matters, and all we have control over."  I think that's my cue to work on a plan.  So, with a clear head and a positive outlook: I'm on it!


Thank you all for sticking by me through this incredibly difficult time.  I know good and well I didn't make it easy.  That said, it's not over yet.  So someone probably ought to hide the matches (just to be safe)!  *grin*