2010 and again

I admit, I'm just bad at keeping up with writing and updating about myself. Just haven't been motivated or inspired lately. Is it age? I certainly hope not, because I hope to live a long fulfilled life, if it all peaks here and then go downhill, then what's the point. And "what's the point" is always a dangerous question to ask. Because then one either is forced to turn to religion for some consolation, which I already tried and feel that I am unsuited for, or one then drifts into nonchalance where everything goes. I am more in danger of than than anything else. I guess what saves me from thinking-- oh I'll just settle-- is that I'm an idealist at heart. Nothing is good enough (that of course includes myself). I don't know, then again, perhaps it's just discontentment. I know there is one thing I love and one thing that gives me that sense of fulfillment, but I just don't think I'm very good at it (yet). I hope to be and I want to work hard at getting good, but sometimes I just feel like I'm out in the wild, randomly hacking down trees to find the miraculous pot of gold that is there, hovering alluringly for a moment, then on a second look is just a bad lighting trick. I feel like I'm suspended somewhere and the ground is two thousand feet under and I'm still floating waiting to hit the ground. I've been feeling this way for three years now, the scary thought is that this feeling would never end and I will never feel grounded again. Never feel that I'm in my skin. Never feel that I'm doing what I should be doing, never feel that I belong. After this long break from here, all I do is grumble. I know. But the sense of drifting that I had mistaken for freedom is now feeling like being on an unmoving boat waiting for the masoon winds to take off.

Am I making any sense? More than ever this has been the question I have been asking. I look at my writing and ask, does this make any sense? I ask the tutees at the lab if what I said made any sense. Sometimes I just feel blank--does this make any sense? Perhaps growing older is just another curiouser and curiouser experience. I hope I will not become one of those old crackers who lose their teeth and their mind at the same rate. Just today, I saw this old man on the bus, he had this wild yellow flower that he had plucked and he kept smelling it and muttering to himself. It was quite beautiful from where I sat, but the old lady next to him was scared half to death and part of me wondered if it was the man she was scared of, or perhaps it was his fate she was so afraid of.