Rumination Without Articulation

I'm home again and here to stay. For a bit.

Though Ottawa was wet and cold this weekend, I enjoyed myself muchly in our country's capital. I laughed more than I have in a while (and loudly too - has anyone ever noticed how their laugh changes over time? I have) and made some new friends. It disheartens me a little to think that we've spent all this time together exploring old cities in new ways and yet we will hardly see each other when we work.

The independence I've wanted since I was 10 is really catching up to me.

Sure, there's this work thing where I lead tours by myself (for the most part) and yes, I live and go to school away from home, but I've been having trouble recently with being...solitary. Not alone, not lonely, not single, but a strange combination of those words; I just don't know what the result would be (me?). I told Tanya tonight that I've been trying to reconcile my want for someone to want me and my need for it. Because I don't want to need someone and yet I do want someone. Awful, isn't it?

She told me to go see a counsellor.

I thought her response was hilarious. So much that I had to share it with you.

I've actually got a lot to say about this (the reconciliation, not counselling) and I've been trying to say it out loud for weeks, but I can't seem to get it beyond my eyes. It's sitting somewhere under my skin and it itches, but no matter how or where I scratch, I can't get at it. I have little thoughts that float around in my head and they beg for further thought, elaboration, expansion, some sort of expression. And all I can come up with is this:

People have an amazing capacity to hurt each other.

Cupid must be drunk. He's made a mistake. Many mistakes.

My father was right.

I met a painter this weekend and he is obsessed with texture. His paintings need to be perfectly smooth to the touch. I feel the same, except I don't have an art form that I need to smooth out, just my mind (on second thought, maybe my cryptic-ass writing). Smoothness = sootheness at this point. I feel troubled and caught in some strange paradigm shift. I'm suddenly uncomfortable with myself and the things that I do. Nothing fits anymore, not even my skin.

I am sceptical of others' actions and doubt their sincerity. I was paid wonderful compliments this weekend and came home only to tell Tanya that I didn't want to hear them (or any at all for that matter) anymore. When people say nice things to me I assume that they are nice individuals (is this naive of me?), so that when I find out that they aren't, the disappointment hits harder. I don't know if I should suck it up, lower my expectations, understand that some people are just jerks or cut the bad ones out, keep my idealism and hope for the best.

In the end, it's a delicate balance of half-knowing and half-hoping. But there must always be hope.
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