Love, sex and relationships

I'm working on a long-ish post that involves themes (captured in the subject line) from two works of art that I finished tonight: Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach (the last 30 pages of which totally floored me) and Woody Allen's Husband and Wives. I know, these "stay tuned" posts can be bloody annoying, but I feel I have to post something since it's been so long. And it doesn't help that this computer I'm using (an old laptop) is driving me up the wall, and that the heat in my apartment doesn't make writing very comfortable. So will you please re-visit in the next day or two?

The past, the present, the future

"... if you do not plunder the past, the absence feeds on you."

I've been reading and re-reading this line from the most recent Michael Ondaatje book, Divisadero, and trying to make sense of it. (If anyone is curious, I'm loving this book. There are some who think Ondaatje is over-rated, but I adore his work. And his new novel is, so far, a wonder.) Mostly I'm trying to place that line within the context of my current life. It seems especially pertinent, given recent events. I don't feel comfortable divulging the details, but they have shaken me a mite and made me question the strides I thought I had been making of late toward improved self awareness and finding peace of mind. Which leaves me wondering: where does my past fit in with my present state of mind? (This theme actually plays a big role in the new Ondaatje. Proof, yet again, that books seem to find me at appropriate moments of my life.)

I've been accused of being overly nostalgic, of perhaps dwelling too much on the past to the detriment of my present. (The future is never much of a problem, given that I'm an unapologetic and inveterate day dreamer and fantasizer...) It's true, I do think about my history, mostly about some of the decisions I've made, about how my actions have (sometimes adversely) affected others. And while I don't necessarily think this is unhealthy, what is problematic is the guilt that usually accompanies these remembrances.

It's only been in the last couple of months - yes, it's taken me pretty much my whole life! - that I've started to absolve myself of guilty feelings. I've started to forgive myself, to not dwell negatively on "misdeeds" (if indeed decisions I've made and the actions I've undertaken can be considered as such). Hell, I even found some inspiration from the most recent Spider Man film, when Aunt May tells Peter that the hardest thing to do is to forgive oneself. I've tried taking that sentiment to heart, which has resulted in a largely positive and upbeat frame of mind. I'm the product of my past experiences, and when I reflect on those experiences I realize how blessed and lucky I've been. I've had some terribly difficult emotional moments (who among us hasn't?), but I think I've come out of them stronger and, frankly, a better human being. I've tried to learn from my experiences, both the good and bad.

Truthfully I'm not sure the point I'm trying to make here this evening. My emotions feel a little raw tonight, but I wanted to get something down, especially since I'm in a heavy contemplative state of mind. Maybe I need to think through what exactly what's going on in my head, to catch the necessary fragments and weed out the moral of this story. Stay with me. (I also want to write about facebook and reacquainting myself with long-lost friends, but that's for another day. Yet it's also related to my feelings of living with one's past.)

Insomnia

I was bragging to a friend the other day on how easy it is for me to sleep at night. (She was telling me that she's battling some unexplained insomnia.) It's one of the things I do best, in fact. My body seems to be highly calibrated to excellent sleep rhythms. Rarely do I turn off my bedside lamp and lay awake for more than a minute. In fact, I'm usually asleep within seconds. Honest! (I'll offer up witnesses if need be.)

The past few nights, however, I've suffered some horribly restless evenings. Falling asleep isn't usually the problem; staying asleep is another story. I'm usually waking about 30 minutes after the initial fall into slumber, and struggle to get comfortable again to enter back into blissful sleep. And then I'll wake several times during the night, including early in the morning. (Normally I love to awake early, but not when I've been tossing and turning for much of the evening.) Since I'm not accustomed to this insomniac state, I'm not always sure what I should do. For example, do I pull out a book and read? Do I just lie there and do my best to fall back asleep (by counting sheep or some other method)? Do I get up and watch tv? It's an unusual thing for me to encounter.

More important, is there a reason for this period of sort-of insomnia? (I'll admit that this is minor insomnia, compared to some of the horror stories I've heard from others.) After all, I'm still in a good state of mind. I continue to be positive and upbeat. Sure, I'm a mite lonely, but it's hardly abject or crippling by any stretch. (I've even started to sleep with my second pillow in a "hug" position, to approximate where a woman might be - hey, I'll try anything!) I'm not experiencing heavy stress. 'Tis confusing.

Anyway off to bed and (hopefully) a full night of uninterrupted sleep.

I like to eat and to love - not sure about the prayer

I'm not sure what word is the most appropriate to describe how certain books seem to come into my life at the ideal time, how they seemingly seek me out. Fate? Coincidence? Serendipity?

I recently read Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray and Love. This book has been generating quite a buzz, largely because of its "word of mouth" success. (As I write this, it sits atop the NYTimes paperback non-fiction list.) The funny thing is, I knew Gilbert's work before she published EPL: she had written a couple of humour pieces for the NYTimes magazine that floored me, particularly one that revolved around a meat raffle in a bar. I sought out her first collection of short stories called Pilgrim (published in 1997), which I enjoyed (although I can only recall a couple of the stories). I remember reading the review of EPL last year in the Times and thinking I should get it from the library. I just never got around to it, however.

By chance, the same week that I dug out an electronic copy of Gilbert's meat raffle piece to share with my new good friend K., EPL was released in paperback. "I want to buy you this book," I said to her when we were at the book store one weekend afternoon. I like buying books for friends - there's something intellectually intimate about sharing the gift of words. She read it, enjoyed it, and then lent it to me. I had put it aside for a couple of weeks because I was finishing up some other stuff I had already started, but picked it up about two weeks ago.

I'm not going to detail the whole book or why Gilbert choose to write about her year-long journey after her painful divorce - if you're curious, follow this link. What I want to do, at least in this post, is write about how the book has affected me, in ways that have come as a complete surprise. (I'm eventually going to delve further into some of the more specific thoughts it's engendered in subsequent posts. I don't want to blow my proverbial wad in one post, after all!)

Ever since I started the book - I finished it a few days ago (it's one of those books that I read languidly) - I've been ... well, there's no other phrase for how I'm feeling but to say that I've been in an upbeat and positive mood. Some of that mood is attributable to the book, I think. Don't worry, I'm not going to say that "this is my bible" or claim that it's totally changed my life; rather, it got me reflecting on my own life, on how the last couple of years has played out. The latter is an important point.

Much has happened since the summer of 2005. For one, I finished grad school and landed an almost-ideal job, which completed a career transformation. I split with my long-term partner and moved out on my own. I had to deal with much uncertainty about the future of said ideal job. I dipped my toe back into the dating pool. I developed a couple of intense crushes (one which ended very abruptly last summer when she pulled the plug, while the other simply disappeared without explanation). I slept with a few women. I had my first relationship (albeit one that lasted only a few months) since the split with M. Yet while all this was going on (and the ups and downs were quite a ride, in good way), I don't feel I took the requisite time to reflect on all these changes, to find some mental balance and to properly sort through some of the lingering emotions of the ending of my relationship with M.

Gilbert's book seemed to arrive at a time when I'm ready to deal with these issues, and reading about her own journey has provided the grist for my self-reflective journey. (Unlike her, I won't be travelling to Italy, India and Indonesia; mine is going to have to take place solely in my brain.) I'm dealing with thoughts and feelings that I seem to have conveniently tucked away in the far recesses of my brain: issues of self esteem, of guilt, of anger, of sadness. Yet in confronting some of these issues, my mood has been on the upswing. I feel good about where I am right now. Hopefully with the next few posts, I'll be able to share how I'm dealing with these issues and perhaps come to some conclusions.

Welcome to my journey

Hello, and welcome to my new blog.

Not that anybody is keeping tabs, but this is blog #4 for me - and that's not counting my personal vanity web page, which will continue (even though I don't update it nearly as frequently as I should). As some of you know, I've been critical of the whole "blog thing" of late - I've largely stopped reading them, except for a couple of friends' blogs - and told myself I would only start another blog if it served a specific purpose.

So what's this blog all about? Well, I only have a vague idea right now. In some ways, I think it's going to be an evolution and maybe even a summation from my previous blogs - in particular, blogs #1 and #3. (For those who need a quick recap: Blog #1 was started around two years ago when I was in the midst of an emotionally painful split with a long-term partner. I used it as a forum to figure out my seemingly selfish motivations for leaving a loving and beautiful woman, to help unravel all the angst and confusion that was running through my head. It did help me through some difficult times, though I pulled the plug on it after 100 posts and nearly 40,000 words. I felt it had served its purpose and run its course. Blog #3 was created for the November blog challenge that called for a writing a blog post every day during the month of November. It touched on all kinds of issues and concerns, but it served largely as a writing exercise, to help instill some discipline in my writing habits. And even though I had hoped to continue posting when November ended, I didn't feel much of an impetus or lure, which is why that blog remained largely dormant.) I'm even riffing on the original title of my first blog (Procrastination Nation) in titling this site.

Without overstating things or being overly dramatic, I feel I'm at something of a crossroads in my life. There's a lot to be thankful for, no doubt. My job situation in particular is stable, secure and reasonably happy (which for much of my life wasn't the case) - I'm content with that part of my world. Moreover I have good friends and a fairly active social life (although sometimes I will rail at myself for not being more active, whether that's going to see more live music or indulging in other pleasures of the fine city I live in). In so many ways, I'm happy with my lot in life.

Yet (and there had to be a "yet"), there's also a sense of discontentment that I'm struggling with. It's not depression or acute loneliness (I was out with a friend last night who told me she suffers from "profound loneliness," which I thought was an interesting phrase). It's more of a lingering, low-grade melancholy that I can't seem to shake. While I don't want to rid myself entirely of my melancholic tendencies - they help to ground me, I think, and will always play a role in my internal life - I would like to figure out where those tendencies are coming from, or why they arise. I've also been struggling of late with issues of self esteem and confusion about the state of my emotional self-worth - I point to it as the root cause of the dissolution of a recent romance with someone I cared for (and still care for, in fact).

If I'm sounding a little "flighty" and new age-ish (and maybe even a little like an idiot), apologies. But don't doubt the sincerity of this desire to work through some of these issues. I feel the time is right to engage in a period of healthy self reflection. Writing has always helped me sort through issues - it provides some necessary clarity and direction - and that's why I've launched this blog venture. Some of you, to be sure, will be bored silly by my mental meanderings. Others might find it interesting to see someone slice and dice through some personal shit. I promise not to get too self indulgent and self absorbed.

In my next post, I'm going to write about Liz Gilbert's Eat, Pray and Love, which is one of the reasons why I decided to start this new blog. Stay tuned. Hope I haven't lost too many of you yet...