You Know What Might Not Cheer You Up?
Re-reading old journals, thinking about how infinitely complex your inner emotional life is, and then coming across this comic that cuts across all that stuff:

Sigh.

Filed under:Comics as Life Therapy

Cleaning House
Literally and figuratively.

Friend of mine is coming into Oakland for the weekend, and he's staying with me, so I spent a good deal of my evening last night cleaning my apartment. I've said before that one of the benefits of having friends is that it makes you keep things up in a way that maybe you wouldn't under normal circumstances. C coming to visit means the bathroom gets cleaned better than it has in a long, long time.

Yesterday, though, thinking about all I had to do cleaning-wise last night got me pretty stressed out. More stressed out than I had a right to be. Mixed up in all that were several things: One, guilt that I'm the sort of person who needs to clean his place just when others are going to stay--what is it that makes me not appreciate, need or want a very clean house when it's just me? Two, 'unrelated' stuff around planning the weekend with C in town, given a birthday that needs to be celebrated and a group of friends that is still split, at times like birthdays, in two because S and I aren't friends any longer. Three, subsequent guilt about said split, which is really weird because there's not much I can do about it but weather the storm.

One is really the only thing I can do anything about, at the moment. But it's a complex thing with me (geez, what isn't?). I've talked to my therapist about it, and she has suggested I think about the possibility that I create a living space that is uninviting to others because, well, I want to make it unlikley that others will come by. I mean, c'mon, I have one chair. Sure, I live in a studio, but one chair? That's just...neurotic as fuck.

And that has gotten me to thiking about how close I do and don't let people get to me. It's a simple thing, but I think it has some merit. I think it's also bundled up with feelings of a lack of self-worth that I have at times, when I'm feeling some depression. As I've mentioned before, it also likely has something to do with some sexism--I may have never properly learned to keep my environment clean because, subconsciously, I think of cleaning as something that men don't do.

And, in the spirit of rambling, this also makes me think about the nature of having to start from someplace. That is, if I'm depressed, my environment gets worse--I make a messy house--and the messy house makes me more depressed; but I have to start from somewhere. That is, I start with a house. There's no getting around that. Well, there is, but that would be even more depressing. Now I'm reaching even more: Just like the existentialist fact that I have to choose, I have to live in some environment, and sometimes, I think, creating that environement, whether it mean cleaning or choosing a bed or whatever, sometimes feels like a burden that's hard to bear.

That is pitiful, I know. That I have a nice place to live shouldn't be a burden, at all. And yet: For me, it feels like it. So I have to figure out why. Why is it that something that should be welcome, something that should be freeing, even (I have the comfort of having a place to live), feels like a cross to bear at times? And why does it seem to be a continual problem, like getting up on the wrong side of the bed three times when the other side of the bed is a cliff:


What's up with that?

Filed under:Comics as Life Therapy

Yet Another Reason I Probably Ought Not Have Children:


Filed under:Comics as Life

Oopsie
Somehow, I imagine this is exactly how I'll feel on my deathbed:



Filed under:Comics as Life

Mr. Boffo Makes Me Cry
This may be the saddest thing I've ever seen on the comics page. Maybe because it hits too close to home?


Filed under:Comics as Life

Funny
I used to think that I was a pretty funny guy. A good friend of mine who is one of the funniest people I know and I used to sit around cracking each other up; and we'd often then talk about, "What if someday I'm just not funny?" I think about those conversations a lot these days, because I often just don't feel as funny. But then, said friend and I talk and we start cracking each other up again, and it dawns on me--funny takes more than one person. (Not always, of course. I've written before on how I crack myself up.) Or, at least, friends are catalysts for each other's humor, and some people help me be funnier than other people do.

Still, I somehow don't think I'll ever be funny enough to come up with shit like this:

Filed under:Comics as Life

I'm Not Saying My Lovelife Sucks, but...
...this comic is a little too apropos these days:



Caution: Man Lamenting Below
Or, y'know, man whining below, depending on one's point of view.

See, the thing is, I'm not so lonely these days. Mostly. There was a period of time six months ago or so (or, more honestly, up until just a coupla months ago) where the romantic loneliness was palpable, but the non-romantic loneliness started to abate. I began to enjoy being by myself more again, but was being careful to not lose the desires to be around other people that I think I gained while in my last romantic relationship. (Follow that? Can you explain it to me then?) In a way, I don't like to distinguish between general loneliness and romantic loneliness, because I think the lines are often arbitrary and also often avoidable. And yet, there's no denying that I'm still feeling lonely for romantic love in a way that I'm less likely these days to feel lonely for friendship-ish love. What is it that I'm craving? Daily interactions (which, strangely, didn't used to be a component to romance, for me; see what I mean about arbitrary?), sex, intimacy in various forms. It would be nice to have somebody with whom I could trade off some 'taking care of' duties. All of this stuff, except perhaps for the sex part (at the moment, no sex buddies), I actually get from friends. But I suppose it's a matter of frequency and intensity.

Most of all, though, I miss the feeling of building something with somebody. Again, I think I build things with friends, too. I'm building a relationship with my nehphew. I've got lots of building going on. But that committment to build something together in a day-to-day lasting way that includes the intimacy of sex and sleeping in the same bed (sometimes, at least) and being a part of each others' families (which isn't something I've really experienced, in my romantic relationships, now that I think about it)--part of me longs for all of it.

But.

Part of me isn't much interested in it. Despite recent entries to the contrary, I've got shit to do. There are things I enjoy doing, and I enjoy doing them alone. Eventually, perhaps, I'll find some pseudo-loner like myself who also enjoys her alone time to the nth degree, but who also wants to spend the whole day and night with me, sometimes. I have no doubt, really, that there are others out there 'like me' in this way (oh, and she's likely a devout atheist, nonmonogamous, around my age, politically left, health-conscious, and cute as a button)--what I do doubt is that we'll ever meet each other, given our natures, which sort of dictate sporadic forays into looking for love, followed by long-ish periods of not wanting to foray at all...


Filed under:Comics as Life

This is What We Might Call...
...looking on the bright side:

Filed under:Comics as Life