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Emo-moment.

I'm hoping if I schedule this for late at night no one will read it. Because obviously I still have to blog it.

The place I'm in emotionally and stuff is a lot better than it has been recently. I'm not as angry or sad, just disgruntled and restless. Of course, I'm not entirely sure what I'm feeling and certainly not why. I do know some sticking points my mood catches on and can't always shake itself free of.

For one, a lack of friends. Like, there are the people I work with and the people I do Rocky with and the people I chat with online now and then, and, yeah, I suppose they count as some kinda friends. But I'm not sure how many of them or to what extent I can consider them friends. I don't think I can count more than a couple people--and I mean a couple--I actually hang out with, regularly or otherwise. Of course, numbers are the silver bullet to any sense of a social life, but I think there's a point in there.

For two, neglecting my writing. I could swear only a few weeks ago I felt like a writer and all grown up and productive and excited. What the hell happened to that? I still could get back to that, somehow I'm sure, but I don't and I haven't. I'm left wondering why. And that kinda sucks.

For three, relational ambiguity. I've been seeing a guy for 6months and I'm still not sure if a) we are something, b) we should be something (else?), or c) I even want us to be anything. I keep going back to something someone suggested after I told him about the situation--"Maybe you guys are just really good friends...." I think I might like that, actually; just being good friends and hanging out instead of bring sex and dating into the mix. (That would probably help point 1 of my ennui--someone else to call a friend.)

For four, my general lack of success in life. I know I only have myself to blame for not following my dreams or ambitions or values as much as I could have been, but still. It sucks feeling like I've accomplished little or nothing in 24 years. It's not true, of course, but that's how it feels.

I dislike complaining like this. Part of me used to secretly revel in it and in making these kindsa posts. And while some part of me may still find some satisfaction in angsting, it just feels pathetic. Which doesn't help with the overall problem. (For five.)

A lot of this feeds off not following through...on stuff. Like with my writing or my workouts or lack of success/progress. I don't know where the urge to do these things goes. I don't think it's laziness. Apparently my ups and downs are really obvious to other people--at the least, they're very regular. That's prolly not good. I do think I'm getting better at pushing through the downs and getting stuff done while embracing the ups and appreciating what I can accomplish, but there're times it's still isn't so simple or good feeling, and that really sucks.
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Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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