One thing I've noticed today. Just one thing out of a million things that swarmed through my head as I continued my struggle for clarity and my desperate grasping at resolve. One tiny trivial tidbit that's stuck with me.

For months, either too many times or not enough times, I would say, "I wish things were different."

But today, those words are no longer appropriate. Today, those words are no longer true.

Today, I'm imagining saying, "I wish things had been different."

Slightly different tense, for an incredibly different reality.

If I were a real writer, I could write about anything, and make it legible, maybe even enjoyable.

Well, I'm not a real writer, even though I fancy myself as one from time to time. I doubt that I fool anyone except maybe myself.

Remember how I used to write about beaches and islands and oceans and crap like that? Well, tonight I'm going to write (briefly) about a lighthouse.

It was so fucking bright - blindingly so, one would think - but it never once hurt my eyes at all. And, even though that coast was fraught with danger after peril after hazard, I never once doubted that I would be safe. That light was everything to me. My guide. My inspiration. My target, for not only safety, but for paradise.

And then some dipshit had to come along and extinguish the light.

I miss the light. Not only for everything that it did for me, but for everything that it stood for.

Already the memory of it fades from my mind, already the blobs fade from my vision.

I was just thinking about the past. Two years ago, to be precise. April of 2007.

Back then, I had several things going for me in my life. I had what seemed like millions of unanswered questions, a few choice untold secrets, and I spent my life kicking my own ass because of fears and uncertainties that had held me back two years earlier. And I also had a stupid little spark of hope for the future.

Now it's two years later, and everything is different. I've told my secrets, and I've had my questions answered, and I no longer loathe myself because of those fears and uncertainties.

And that stupid little spark of hope?

It's gone now. That's another thing that's changed. I miss having hope, that's for sure. But good riddance to all that other crap.

Tuesday and Wednesday nights were very similar to each other. Both nights I went to Rich O's and met HatGirl.

HatGirl!

Yay!

I'm getting so spoiled by HatGirl. She's been so good about helping to keep me distracted. She's always been really good at distracting me. Plus, she managed to talk me into going to the fireworks thingy without even really having to try.

Also, both nights I drank some beer. Also, both nights MusicalYuppieDude was there and I talked to him some.

Wednesday night was a little different because I texted OddlyFamiliarGirl and she came down after she got off work. So we sat and talked for our usual couple of hours, then I gave her a ride home.

I never said this would be an interesting entry. I'm suprised I can write anything at all.

I need to say some things.

1. This was my decision.

2. I don't like it even a tiny bit, but it still needed to be done.

3. I am a man, after all.

4. Some things can neither be excused nor ignored.

5. You people who thought I was being stubborn before - you haven't seen anything yet.

6. I'm sure that I will second-guess this for the rest of my life, but I will not regret it.

7. Nobody can ever say that I didn't try my absolute hardest.

8. This is not my loss. My loss happened a long time ago.

Well, this year we're supposed to be going. It's this Saturday.

I've gone ahead and gotten a head start on freaking out about the traffic and crowding, but the company should be good, so I'm also looking forward to it.

I must say that I never really saw that coming.

Though perhaps I should have.

And now I get to live with the consequence of my blindness.

If I can.

---

It's so weird to feel myself functioning via reflex.

A car passes my house, and a stray photon from its headlights strikes my phone and bounces into my eye. My brain interprets this peripheral vision as my phone lighting up. Reflex takes over. I jerk my head.

False alarm. It's nothing. I sigh with relief.

---

This, of course, shall pass eventually. The friction of daily life will inexorably wear down the inertia of emotion with which I've lived for so very long. This will stop. I will stop.

I don't know who I am.

I guess I'm about to find out.

I hope I'm not a dick.

What I think, and I've thought this before, is that this is a really good stopping point.

Not ideal, certainly, but is there really such a thing as an ideal stopping point? And this is about as good as it's going to get, I'm afraid.

And, of course, the question is - will we take advantage of this opportunity, or will we squander it as we've done with all those that have preceded it?

And the other question is - if we do squander this opportunity, why?

I'm not sure what to call it when this happens, when I wake up like this after only a couple hours of sleep. I don't think it's insomnia - that's for when I can't fall asleep in the first place - but it should certainly be called something. I'd nominate bullshit but that word is already over-used.

Tonight I'm struck with the urge, more than on almost any other night I can remember, to vent. To just let it all out and say everything that's on my mind. To just start typing and not stop until I've said it all. To tell this entire story.

Because people don't know. They only see the shadows.

I'm trying to write tonight. I'm trying to write well. I've sat at my computer for two hours. I've written two thousand words, and I've deleted almost all of them. None have been good enough, and that's been the problem all along. None have ever been good enough for this.

Understanding, acceptance, even belief have been denied me, because my words haven't been good enough.

It was really fucking crowded when I got to Jack's last night. So crowded, in fact, that I had to walk back outside and try to come up with reasons to go back inside. I guess the reasons that I came up with were (a) I'd driven down there, (b) I wanted a beer, and (c) I'd already told OddlyFamiliarGirl that I was there and (d) she was on her way.

Originally, there wasn't going to be any beer last night, and therefore no Saturday Beer Report. I'd had an impromptu date at my house, and we watched Big Fish and Meet Dave courtesy of Netflix. Those two movies put me into a bad mood, mostly the latter, because it was so stupid.

So I decided, once I was alone, that I didn't really want to be alone. So I went to Jack's.

I managed to grab a table and, once OddlyFamiliarGirl showed up, we sat and talked for a couple of hours. I had two bottles of Rogue Dead Guy (879) and they were very good.

Oh yeah, now I'm supposed to watch Gone with the Wind, because OddlyFamiliarGirl says I'm either Rhett or Scarlett. It's been a long time since I've watched that movie, but I'm pretty sure I own it and it's around here somewhere.

After OddlyFamiliarGirl went home, I moved up to the bar and had some Diet Coke and talked to these chicks who kept having flaming homers or something like that. I asked if the flames made the drinks taste any different, and they admitted that it was all just for show.