I used to be a blogger . . .

Last night, I found myself wandering through some blog entries from 5 or so years ago.   (Usually this has the tendency to depress me, but I actually enjoyed myself this time.)  Back then, I blogged on MySpace, which let me post blog entries directly to my front page and control who saw each individual entry as opposed to either sharing everything with a group or sharing nothing.

 

For one thing - boy, did I share a LOT. Names, places, dates, times.  In the interest of my profession and far-reaching philanthropic goals, and just because I’ve changed a lot as a PERSON, I really don’t share the same kind of information I used to.  Just don’t have the need, desire, or even literal ability.

 

Which is part of the other thing that struck me – how interesting my posts were.  I mean, some of my stuff was really fun to read.  

 

I got to thinking, man, what happened?  I used to be a blogger.

 

My life has changed so much in the last 5 years.  I feel like that person and this person never even lived in the same body.  Some of it is depressing; even though I lived a comfortable and sheltered life, I never realized how lucky and comfortable it WAS.  And some of it is uplifting; I am now doing every single thing I never thought I could do but always WANTED to do.  And I finally kicked all my illnesses and medications.  I’m reaching goal after goal, PR after PR.  My work life is stable and enjoyable for the first time in probably 10 years.

 

But one of the biggest things I noticed was the absolute lack of romance in my life.  I don't mean just romance as in love and relationships; I mean romance in the overarching, emotional, philosophical sense.  I had a period of helpless romanticism during my late teens and early 20s, and everything in my life was both reported and filtered through that soft hazy glow.  There is really no romance in my current life . . . at all.  It is all TCOB (Taking Care O’ Bidniss.)

 

I'm not sure how I feel about this.  On one hand, I miss romance.  I miss adventure, excitement, and feeling as if something my heart desired was just waiting around every corner.  Conversely, I feel like my current life is more realistic.  Not everything and one I encounter is automatically a transcendental figure or experience.  I’m not in any danger of someone calling me EMO.

 

But I still feel like there’s something missing.  Something I can’t quite put my finger on. And it’s not something that necessarily comes from a relationship.

 

I don't do this often, but the best way to describe it is a lyric from a song I wrote years ago: "I've been on the edge most all of my life.  Waiting for a moment, hoping for anything at all.  Falling in and out of cognizance, fading in and out of competence.  Waiting for the tears to fall.  And leaving."

 

I am.