Yet another epiphany.

Or make that several of them. I really need to cut all this realizing shit out - it's making my head hurt.

Still, time spent with oneself (we'll ignore, for the moment, that this solitude isn't entirely my own doing) thinking about things that you have heretofore avoided is time well spent, on balance. And this weekend I did boil a few things down to digestable bits, to wit:

First - The North Shore Story, while certainly nice and certainly a revelation for me in its own way, is much like the Bible. It's a good read, but not necessarily the be-all end-all*. Upon further reflection, much of the significance of those two days was due to the fact that they were the first of their kind that I had experienced (or more accurately, allowed myself to experience - see the third epiphany, below) in years, since well before my marriage dissolved. Put another way; if you deprive someone of food for a week and then give them a Saltine, odds are they'll say that shitty little cracker is the best food they've ever eaten. Compared to nothing at all, anything seems fantastic. In reality, it wasn't really anything more than a damn good time and a reminder that I'm capable of feeling. Not a bad thing, but not the second coming, either.

Second - My partner in crime for those two days (as well as the 4 months or so that surrounded them): It was a good time for sure, but she's not the one for me. I don't know exactly how I got so all-fired into her, but it's pretty clear that I was projecting a lot of who I wanted her to be and hoped she was onto someone who couldn't ever live up to those kinds of expectations. I wish her the best, but she'll have to find it with someone else. My recent realizations about what I want from life have forced me to accept that she's simply not the person who can help me get there. Such is life, and we move on.

Next - I believe I've learned how long it takes to sufficiently recover from the barrel o' fun that is a failed marriage and be ready to take another stab at sharing life with someone else, in my case: about 5 years, or a little longer than the marriage itself lasted. I'm sure some smart person somewhere could have told me this, but let's be honest: I never would have listened. You can tell me not to touch the hot stove until you're blue in the face, but until I burn the fuck out of my hand doing just that, it won't sink in. Woe to any poor sweet soul who may have encountered me in the past half-decade; I'm ever so sorry, but I simply wasn't ready. I think I'm much more ready now. In particular, I'd like to send a sincere apology out into the ether for one particular young lady who suffered terribly in the throes of my lack of self-understanding; it wasn't right, and it's not okay. One day, when I'm confident that doing so won't cause her more pain, I'll apologize properly and in person. Until then I'm saying it here: I'm truly, terribly sorry, K.

Finally - I think it's about time I stopped blogging about this aspect of life and got on to actually trying to live it. Easier said than done for sure, but it's time I started; more time won't make it any easier. As for this place, I intend to return my focus to (hopefully) clever insights into the world around me, and the endless reservoire of material that my fellow humanzees are so very adept at providing. Morons.

Whew. In the words of John Cusack (as Rob Gordon): Who needs a drink?


*all due respect to any devout readers - I really have read The Book and I think it's great, just not my thing.