seldear | May. 11th, 2009

I have a ticket to go to a piano concert tonight at the Opera House. I'm minded to skip it entirely, rather the way I did with the play that falls on the same night as the Star Trek premiere. I could stay home and write...only I know I won't. I don't seem to have the wherewithal to write anymore, or to read without thinking I should be writing. And what I do write isn't good. Oh, it's satisfactory, and it's good enough, but it's not good - it's not what I can write.

Lately, I feel like I don't have enough time to myself, to sit back and dig in and make my bunker and get my grounding. I'm going out to see the Star Trek movie again tomorrow night, I have bible study on Wednesday, and will probably be meeting up with

arabel to watch Dexter on Thursday or Friday.

And going to a concert isn't much fun without other people to enjoy it with. For instance, I can't come back and share how awesome it was, because most of you wouldn't know what I'm talking about and wouldn't care.

In the six months, I feel as though my existence has grown more solitary. As though "I'm the only person who..." in a multitude of different ways. And there's nothing to be done about it.

There isn't really a cure for time and distance and fading connections.