015: Over this

I was thinking lately how I'd like to go back to writing long, self-involved paragraphs upon paragraphs about myself and my day and the things I don't like about myself, the way I did when I was younger. I think in general it's a good thing I don't blog the way I used to, that I'm slowly closing out that chapter of my life. When I was in first-year philosophy, I heard about the Ship of Theseus, replaced plank by plank until you have to wonder if it's even the same ship. Slowly every part of me is replaced. It's not a particularly subtle metaphor.

I'm listening to music from first year. Night after night I would sit at this computer -- no, a computer unlike this one, but in this same spot -- listening to this band on MySpace of all places, coaching one of my friends in a far off place through her own first semester at University and secretly getting her to coach me through mine. Even though I had been out of high school for two years, through Sheridan and matured significantly, I still had much growing to do. I still do, but I'm steadier now than I was then by far.

That time felt like such a massive shift in the dynamic especially because so many of the people I knew who were (are) younger than me were leaving. It felt like a more complete parting than my actual graduation. Time's gone by, we've only drifted further, and we've gotten okay with it. That sort of callous of apartness and distance.

I was thinking this morning about the last time I was unemployed, how I'll never again just be free to gad about my own freedom. That was the summer we did Half-Past. I can't believe I spent a whole summer with my only obligation as being two days of school a week. I used to not have to do anything most of the time in general. I still remember that night, just before Halloween 2009, when Gus called me in to ask if I could work the next day, essentially my second shift in what would ultimately be my permanent job (at the time, merely a 3rd-round temp). I was going to a party that night. I accepted anyhow, got drunk and went home early, then got up in the morning for work. Huh, the less things change.

Eric and I had a very lengthy conversation the other night. It started off as just sort of an honest statement of where we are with each other, a cleansing of the palette, and ended up, as it always does, as a lengthy discussion of writing: of Sewerman, of our own projects, and of our future projects. I told myself I'd write more once of out school and well, I'm not getting any more out of school now am I. Time is coming to put my money where my mouth is. I can't anymore say "When, when, when, soon, soon soon." It's got to be now, doesn't it?

The flow of time has been disrupted. I'm not "back to school." My schedule isn't going to change. I'm here now. This is me.

This is what I think between thoughts of romance and loneliness. I beat myself up for not behaving as writerly as I should.

Got caught up reading old entries (such a rare occurrence now,) marveling how time passes differently. In those posts from late 2009 I could break down my whole day at work. Now it's just "I was at work, I gave a guy a refund and danced like a maniac for the amusement of others, I had a roast beef sandwich for lunch, and then I went home." Kyle challenged me to a mustache-growing contest. He is sorely misguided.

I don't feel great, but I know I'm better now. It's strange.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto