Morning musings, or second verse, same as the first

There are times when I get the crazy idea to write a series of essays about myself. But then my inner voice is all over the stupidity, worthlessness, never going to happenicity of that. But it's still there in my mind, especially when I'm feeling this 40s version of angst, which is less fiery pain and more feet are about to slip on the ice -- all the time. But not off balance, just poised over the swirly abyss of my own inner depths. Like if I could just jump into it, it would be terrifying but ultimately transformative. Yet I continue as I am, living on the surface, back from the edge, making do. Because transformation is so uncertain, yes, will I like what comes out the other side. But more importantly, transformation takes actual effort, and I seem to avoid that as much as possible. Do the basics of what needs to be done in all things, then just skate by.

I don't think I always was like this. I don't know if it's part of growing older or just part of the flatness of affect, the genial apathy, the no hope but no despair either of the life I live now. It's a balance, and I've always thought of balance as good, but is it a balance between the right things? Is this see-saw all the way on one side of a vast plain of possibility?

I've always lacked specific ambition. Now I lack general ambition. Giving up, settling, getting by; I've fucked myself over for sure because the goals I did strive for have led me here. And here is easy and doesn't require a lot of drama or inner turmoil, yet it also doesn't provide joy, intense satisfaction, excitement, giddiness...

Easy going, doesn't really care, go with the flow -- it's ridiculous how none of those celebrate the agency I've always fought so hard to embrace. Yes, I run my life the way I want, I make my choices and take responsibility for them, but I'm slippery, I slide out of the way of things to follow my course; I don't confront obstacles head-on, but ignore them or find alternate routes. Nothing wrong with that, but it does mean spending most time looking to dodge, and little time setting my path, heading toward a goal.

I make lists all the time. It's becoming a pathology probably. But the one list I have the most trouble with is goals. Beyond staying financially healthy, and physically healthy, and paying off debt and enjoying what entertainment I want, what is there to aim for? Part of it is finances, settling in to a relatively simple life as both penance for and restoration from the excesses of my 20s and the schooling of my 30s. If paying off most debt and using real money for everything is your main goal, other things do fall from view. It's another way of fending off the need to think of what kind of life I want to live of course. It limits the options along one axis, which keeps the graph weighted along one side.

I haven't been excited about a course of action I've taken much lately. Yes, this summer I went to Slayage and explored Vancouver/Victoria and it was glorious. I've greatly enjoyed movies I've seen or books I've read. I've had moments of fun. But it's so -- like a splash in a still ocean, it is felt, but recedes quickly, merged into the surface of calm. Even while avoiding typical scenarios like marriage, suburbia, or a 9-5 job, I've still fallen into a rut of complacency and stasis. And it is what I was going for, so it's not like it's surprising that I got here. You do make your own life, one way or another.

Most days I'm happy to be where I am. But then I just get that feeling that there's untapped potential in myself to live life another way, to keep my personality and habits and comfort levels and likes and dislikes and the whole package, but still run a slightly different course. Maybe a course that would incorporate a little more passion for life, a little less sleepwalking.

In a funny way, I feel like that thing that I avoid is art. Not other people's art, I regularly enjoy the creative outputs of many people in many disciplines, but my own. Not that I'm a blocked writer or could be a sculptor or anything that specific. But I don't even do crafts or play with fashion, or write blog posts beyond what I did with my day or, if I'm really working it, recapping what happened in a book or tv show I watched. I do nothing that deeply taps into my creativity. I make lists. I read other people, watch others' stories. Because I'm afraid there's nothing there? Because I've never successfully understood how to individuate my presence into the world? Because my presence is so diffuse and noncommittal?

My inability to make concrete, bar all other options choices and distaste for allowing other people to define exactly who I am is part and parcel of not being a solid presence in the world. If it's concrete, it's defined. Even if only in one moment in time, if I'm fully formed at that point, then I cannot be anything other than that. It's fear, but not from a place of cowardice I don't think. I understand why I am this way, but I still think I need to find a way to be something beyond a cipher for myself.

On the plus side, it could be that I'm closer to being ready to do something about it. A lot of the issues plaguing my younger self feel so much less important now. I'm less self-conscious, less afraid of making mistakes in public at least, more forgiving. That could help. I've almost always known intellectually anyway that no one is looking at me, other people being preoccupied with their own shit, but that doesn't mean I don't look at myself. Maybe it's time to stop trying so hard to see what I am from the outside. Maybe it's time to experience myself. I just wish I had a good idea of how to start.