I got into work early today, starting on a new schedule. Actually, I got into work WAY too early this morning: 7:00am. (Yes. This means those of you who go into work earlier are just plain crazy.) I'm starting this new schedule with the idea that I'll hit the gym after work at 4:00pm, also with the hope that it'll ease my morning commute. Waking up was certainly no problem, though Vicky did not chose the nicest way I could think of to wake me.
I used to think the worst way I was ever awoken was back in 1984, in Las Vegas. I'd gone there with a girl named Deanna and her family. One morning, Deanna came over to the sofa I was sleeping on - traveling on the cheap - and started poking my forehead with her finger... over and over again. Like a woodpecker! Eventually - god knows how long this took - I got up with a scream.
This morning, Vicky shoved her finger into my ankle and dug around. It was crude but effective. Whatever happened to a kiss on the cheek?
Vicky and I haven't really been getting along. The strain of the move and the stress of the wedding planning, I think, are fraying us both at the ends. So, we've been bickering and fighting just about every day. There may be more to it, of course. I know there is with me.
Wednesday and Thursday nights, I only slept a couple of hours. Friday night, we were both sitting outside, having a clove (and enjoyment I'm going to have to ease up on again now that I'll be hitting the gym). We weren't really talking. We were kind of past talking.
Oddly enough, and I only found this out later - Sunday, I think - both of us felt we were walking on egg shells. Vicky was afraid to talk because she didn't want to make me mad at her yet again and I was afraid to talk because I didn't want to make her mad at me... yet again...
But something was on my mind that night that has been there for the past few weeks. Every day that passes, though, it seems to be more prevalent, more solidly defined... like a relief coming into focus. Now that it's coming into focus, I can talk about it. And I wanted to talk about it - but I was with Vicky and I didn't want to talk to her because I didn't want to make her angry at me... yet again.
And as you probably know, once started, it wouldn't be a short talk. Mostly people talk in sentences. I talk in chapters.
Still, I had to keep it short.
I decided to make a blanket statement and wait for her to inquire further... springing the trap, as it were.
"Something's going on," I said. "I can feel myself changing."
There it was. The bait. Now to wait for her to take it.
"I had 97 emails waiting for me today."
And there it was. I had something I wanted to talk about and so did she... and neither of us would without invitation. That's all either of us were doing: asking for an invitation. She didn't ask me, "What's wrong, honey? What do you mean?" and I didn't ask her whatever it was that she wanted me to ask. And we sat there... kind of like idiots.
So, Vic, I'm asking.
And I'm also telling.
The upshot of this Blog is I don't need to ask. I just tell.
Things have been different lately. If 1998-Ken were to look at 2004-Ken, he'd be offended, at least. I'm riding in SUVs. (Driving SUVs!!!) I'm not recycling. I'm buying and using things I wouldn't have considered only a few years ago. On top of that, I see myself listening to music I don't really care for and watching far too much television.
The root of all of this - the root I can see thus far, at least - is very strange. Simply put, I just don't feel like I care any more. This strange sense of apathy seems to have swept over me and I just don't care. I've reached this point where peace is more important than what is right and my opinions just want a rest.
And this is just the start of it - just what I can see right now. I get this feeling of the tide of all my energies drawing out, signaling some kind of existential tsunami!
This is what I want to deal with. This is what I want to figure out. I want to see the tsunami coming before it hits. After all, if these things I've described were normal and benign, why do I feel this looming sense of dread?
One hopes I'll find some answers as I explore this unease.
... one more thing.
I can feel I'm going to be writing soon. It's that long drive, got to go to the bathroom feeling. You know it's coming before it really hits (but, sadly, not until you're well on your way).
I told Vicky the other night, "There's something inside that needs to come out." The tricky part is, I don't know what it is.
But I wrote something down last night... and it startled me. I wrote Life is the ultimate trap.
I'll need to think about this for a while.