Windshield wiper fixed. (For the 20394867638274238th time. We’ll hope it holds up.)

I am thinking myself in circles today.

One thing I decided, that I guess I’ve known for a long time, but that really came to me clearly today in so many words: the biggest mistake I ever made was getting together with Je—- in ’95. The second biggest mistake I ever made was not transferring to another university out of state immediately after she and I broke up.

Everything would be so totally, completely altered in my world if I hadn’t done either one of those things. For the better or for the worse, I don’t know… but both of them ate up years. Lots of years… during which I could have been doing other stuff.

—

All of my friends, and now even my parents, are telling me that I don’t belong to this culture, that I need to leave this country permanently. Will it really make that big a difference? I tend to think not, but then, what do I know?

Anyway, it’s not like they’re all mentioning the same eventual destinations when they tell me I need to leave. They’re all over the globe. Sounds maybe like you-gotta-get-out-of-here-ness, rather than I-know-a-place-you’d-like-ness.

Maybe I should start thinking Cambridge again? Beh.

It’s all crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap.

I am not confused this morning, just unhappy. The smallest of things would make me a million percent happier, but in a world full of other people, you just can’t get those tiny things. The world is grey and miserable and cold. I miss my girlfriend and the good times we’ve had together terribly, but she and I may be pulling in two ever-so-slightly different directions. I don’t know. I hope not, but I don’t know. And before that, she doesn’t know.

I’m incredibly lonely. Desperately lonely. I feel like nobody understands me. I’m positive that nobody understands me. And the more people tell me that I have no reason to be lonely, the more lonely I feel. The more people tell me that they understand me, the more it becomes clear that they don’t. It’s nobody’s job to understand me, it’s true, but I also have a perfect right to be sad about that fact.

Stop feeling sorry for myself? Fuck you. Make me. I wrote six books, got two B.A. degrees and an M.A. degree, took 100 gigabytes of photos and drove to half the states in the country seeing sights. I hiked to the top of King’s peak, got my Red Cross certifications, and put twenty thousand miles on my bicycle. Does that sound like someone who’s wasted a life feeling sorry for themselves? What have you done?

I’ll be down if I want.

No, I’m not suicidal at all, it’s just not my nature, but I know how people in that frame of mind feel. They feel alone and trapped in a world full of people who accuse them for feeling that way, instead of offering epathy, understanding, admissions of the world’s inadequacy, and simple, steadfast, nonjudgmental companionship.

—

My world is today failing to live up to the expectations that I have developed for it as a result of having to live my life within it.

—

Today I may have accidentally come up with a good research project for which to apply for an NSF grant. I’ll have to think more about it. I don’t know if I’m pleased, or if it depresses me.

—

I am in full self-destructive mode. Everything I do, everything I say, everything I am planning to do seems, regardless of what my intent actually was at the moment, to lead me down the path to pain, suffering, misery, and financial and emotional ruin.

Or maybe what I choose doesn’t actually matter. Maybe every choice leads me down that path.

Perhaps it has always been so.

—

Harmir, I’m sorry about the photo. When I came out to take it, everyone had gone. I thought I’d get to it later, like the next day, but I never did. Also, I haven’t yet come up with the sheet of writing you asked for. Right now may not be the moment. Maybe sometime during the next few days. I’ll try my best.

—

Aqueous, I wish we could link our heads with a wire and share reservoirs of wisdom. I’m sure you’ve got some that I could use. I don’t know what, in particular, or why… I’m just sure. Or at least, I could use a hug from an old friend.

—

I’m still stuck in Salt Lake City, although at this point, I don’t know where I belong. The National Weather Service has revised its forecast; Thursday is now the day with the best chance of being clear.

—

I have to go work on my car, to get it ready for the trip.

—

🙁