The other night, I was flipping through an old (15 years old) journal, and posted pieces of an entry from July 20, 1995. Since I was a great deal more prolific when I was (lonely and) single, without a family to distract me, one 1995 journal entry equals three 2010 blog posts. Here's the gripping conclusion:
I like to underline things I read in books. From 'The Fatigue Artist:' "the Tai Chi teacher says the universe is a great system of vibrations we dras to us by our feelings: fear draws fear, love draws love." Sounds a little like Napoleon Hill. Think and grow rich. I always like new or consistent interpretations of how thing work... just as Nietzsche convinces me there is no god, I say a silent prayer for my plane to stay in the air. In the morning, as I walk to work, Penn Station up Seventh Avenue to 34th, east past Macy's, always past the Empire State Building, then I zigzag around to Park and 51st depending upon red lights, I use this time to think positive thoughts and get the positive energy to start the day right. Sometimes the vibe doesn't last very long... it's hard to work in an office on a sunny summer day. At The Firm I could lose track of the time of the day, day of the week, the seasons... but in the morning, I weave my fantasies about my career. On the way home, I dream about finding a husband to go home to.
"Because of what he showed me, he is mine forever. I can forgive him almost anything."
I can say that about a lot of men, most significantly Johnny Moneybags. Johnny helped me to believe in myself when I needed to most. The night he propositioned my boss' wife pales in comparison.
Also the Spud Stud. The Simple Life. He did a lot of things that hurt me, but he didn't mean to.
Mickey, my Vancouver Sex Slave. The Edge. He showed me how to give in to pleasures that wouldn't last, possibly because he believes that nothing lasts.
Even Curtis the Scuba Dude showed me things that I am grateful for...that I could forget Johnny Moneybags, at least for the moment. That I shouldn't take everything so seriously.
I guess that ties in to Mickey's theory that people who are not as driven and ambitious and intense as we are appear more youthful. But would I call it youthful (desirable) or immature (undesirable)?
On SUnday, thanks to Mickey's inspiration and Ellyn's reminders, I am taking a sailing lesson with Melissa in Atlantic Highlands. I look forward to the adventure, to discovering a new activity that I enjoy for itself, and to the opportunity to meet new people.
"I have no design; I make opportunity my design...I have no friends; I make my mind my friend."
I used to be that kind of a loner, but now I do need friends, I do need love. Someone to confirm that our existence means something. That the path I choose makes a difference (the road not taken would have led to a different, not necessarily better or worse, result, and the sum of these choices matters!)
"This was a juncture when life begged to be lived as art. That way, it could be tolerated." Almost midnight. Time for bed. I will continue tomorrow, in my beautiful new notebook. I have a lot to say.