Tuesday, November 18, 2014

By all rights, activity on this site should’ve increased lately, especially with the unseasonably cold weather we’ve been having. I haven’t played tennis in ages, mainly because I find frostbite disagreeable, which has effectively freed up nine hours per week. Clearly this bounty hasn’t been invested in writing, at least not here. Television has accounted for some of this time. I’ve dusted off the PS4. Work has taken its fair share of hours, too.

Lightning’s also struck, apparently, for a fifth time. If you live within a 10-mile radius of me, you’ve likely gotten the full scoop. She’s Leviathan-class–the most Leviathan yet, if that can even be an adjective. All-American, smart, hazel eyes. Conversation is effortless, energizing. And in terms of looks, I’m punching way the fuck above my weight class.

As much input as I’ve received from others, it’s the internal monologue I’ve been trying to reconcile. I’m awash in questions. What will the in-person chemistry be like? Why me? Is this actual progress, perhaps the culmination of all the effort spent on the portals? Or is it simply a confluence of little accidents? I’d never voice these questions aloud, of course. I just see them materializing on my mental notepad.

And so I’ve been trying to quiet myself, savor each interaction, and heed the good sense of my betters: leave your expectations at the door, said Love Yoda; remember how it all began, said the Professor; and follow your heart, said Cheshire. I’ve never been one to insist on experiencing everything firsthand, particularly if someone else has already navigated the crucible. If there’s genuine wisdom, just sitting there for the taking? Then be still, listen, and the secrets of the universe will confess themselves to you.