I dig my hole, you build a wall...
Nine days short of being a full year, I return. To what? Not really sure, but I think it's time that I start putting pen to paper (or finger to key) and start seriously writing again. Not only is it good for my mind, it's good for the way I express myself.
I looked back on the posts I made a year ago. While some things have changed, many have not. The relationships I have with friends are a little better, and some are not. Friends have come and gone, I've tried to keep in contact with the ones who have gone, but what is the point? Maybe that's just being pessimistic about it. But if they really wanted to be friends with me, it wouldn't be so one-sided, right? I guess I'm fine with the core group of people I spend time with, but something has me yearning for more. More what? I'm not sure. But it feels like there is a person sized hole deep down, and I don't know if it will ever be filled. I guess it's telling that the person I talk to most on a day-to-day basis lives in Tennessee...
While I may have a few friends, I feel I don't have companionship. I'm not saying that I need a romantic relationship, or that I need to have that part of my life figured out by now. But companionship would be nice to have. The kind that I don't have to be mindful of expressing myself, or the kind that really cares about me. I've expressed it, at times, as having the feeling of wanting to be around someone whom I care about, and the feeling is reciprocal. There's something to be said about mutual affection, whether that be romantic or otherwise. I guess what I'm trying to get across is, I need a hug.
I've been thinking a lot about what my creative outlets have been. I came to the quick realization that I don't have many, if any at all. Within the past year I've come to really enjoy cooking. I look at it as creating something. The feeling I get when people eat, and enjoy something that I've prepared is something that I cannot put into words, but it's almost got a feeling of transcendence about it. It brings me to a level in which I am, for the moment, okay with things. But in the next, it makes me strive to make something better, something more challenging. I've seriously considered going to cooking school, as it's something that I don't abhor the thought of, but is that a flight of fancy that will never come to fruition? I guess only time will tell.
This is all excluding the biggest change at all in the fact that my mother is no longer with her partner of 18 years. I could fill journals and journals about how I feel about this, but I'll save that for another entry. I guess this is the carrot that will get me to write more in this thing.
I should write more, that was nice.
