For those of you who happen to be reading this blog & have read my writings in the past, I’m sure you’ve noted a discrepancy in style and content. I am well aware that this blog has turned from introspection outward to a diary style superficial action oriented narrative. This is the unfortunate by-product of the lack of either the means, space, or time for me to fully digest the experiences I am currently undergoing, and thus, I am unable to write any more eloquently or profoundly about them. So please take all of this with a grain of salt and understand that this is me largely unfiltered, in a foreign land alone attempting to come to grips with who I think I am and what I think of other people. I write and keep writing here in this forum because this is really my only link to the world from which I came, my link to those I love, and I hope that you will read this and continue to read this and understand why I write.
There are of course many things that have been going on in my head that I haven’t been articulating thus far. I’ve been thinking about the hordes of those living in poverty here and elsewhere. I´ve been confronting some of my perceptions of the “other” and about what I think I can do and about what I want to do to change my own life and perceptions. These are ideas in the making, that I don’t have the space right now to form.
On another level, I’ve still been processing Toby’s suicide. It’s something that comes back to me almost every day at seemingly random times. I kind of push it away mentally because I really don’t know what there is to think about it anymore. I had thought originally that I would find some kind of peace with it but that doesn’t seem possible to me anymore. Peace really only comes with time, there isn’t anything I can do or say that will make it better. It’s not something that hurts so much anymore as just kind of throbs in the background, and I feel a kind of deep-seated confusion and frustration about it, like when there’s an itch that you can’t possibly reach, and even if you could, scratching it would only make it worse.
I’ve been learning how to deal with expectations, as in not having any. Expectations only serve to create disappointment. I build up these castles of illusion and then when the sea of life comes to sweep me away into change then its disillusionment time again. I guess that’s part of being human. As long as I am building these castles with the full awareness that they are meant to be destroyed, then it’s alright I suppose.


Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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