Saturday, September 8, 2012

The triumphant hero limps home after a Pyrric victory and re-learns childish hope

Almost a year by my count, it's been, since I put down the electric pen because I really didn't know what to do with it anymore.

A lot has happened, a lot has changed, and I write scattered ADD-addled thoughts, not epics. So, in brief, the identity of this blog has changed right along with me, and now that things are finally a little less psychopathic in my life, I think I can sort out my thoughts enough to start sharing them again.

I think the last thing we talked about was Occupy. It was still kind of nascent in November 2011. I was all fired-up about it, I went up one weekend to participate in Occupy Indianapolis, and in two days I watched it turn from a vibrant, energizing, change-hope-full place with a sense of community into a den of infighting, prideful jockeying for agenda control, and, finally, so toxic an environment that one woman kicked another woman, who was pregnant, in the stomach, caused her to go into premature labor, and shortly thereafter everyone in the group who had a clue about decentralized governing was driven out, for their own self-preservation's sake, because apparently the common-held view was that putting out folks who are hijacking the movement for their own gains, or just plain downright violent, wouldn't be right because "everybody gets a voice here." Welp, game over, folks. Part of the game, from the get-go, was to not condone violence or forced hierarchy, but whatevs, it was a nice idea. At least on the national end of things, some people are still having some good conversations.

I was burnt out for a long time after that general time-period. Not saying it was in any way Occupy that caused it, but the general undertone-lesson of "fight like hell and you'll still lose and it will still all fall apart" has kind of been a thing in my life for half a decade anyway. It got very, very hard to shake. For several months, I just gave up, and let life happen to me, and was miserable, and figured well, maybe all that stuff about dreams was pure fantasy and it's just supposed to be this awful. Know what? Screw that false inner monologue. I don't care what it takes, I'll get there.

Oh, what else... Well, I only went to design school for a semester because I didn't want to take out any more debt. 30K plus the credit-card debt I took on while I couldn't find a full-time job is enough, thank you. So I got on at AT&T, I've been in Evansville for six months, and I'm finally starting to catch up on things. Six to twelve more months, and I'll be a little ahead. For the first time,w ell, ever in my adult life, and that hope feels damn good.

I also got un-engaged. Tomorrow would have been our five-year anniversary, but I just wasn't all in it anymore, and neither was he, and it just needed to happen, so it hurt like hell, but I let him go. I wasn't really ready to commit to being an "us" because I still am not anywhere near a point where the creation known as "me" is stable enough to even ponder something like permanence. Honestly, I still haven't even gotten out of the Midwest yet, and it's a lot easy to pack up and mobilize one person than two. So yes, I'm OK.

I've started writing poetry again. It's been at least two years, maybe three, since I actually finished one, so that's cool. And since I don't know if I'll get back to Indianapolis in the next year, or ever, I've squared with the fact that this isn't going to be a street-style blog anymore. There are plenty of other things for us to share. It'll be fine. I still want to talk about fashion. I'm just also a nerd for poetry, politics, sci-fi, and really fun local events when I can afford to go, so the next time I sit to write a post and I'd really talk more about, say, what Mayor Ballard screwed up this time instead of what Balenciaga put on a runway, I'm gonna go with it!

Awright, y'all. Let's do this.

"Hope," by Joanna Hoffman. Also known as my new mantra.

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