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I talk, it types.

I was looking for that old commercial with the people with the headsets on. “I talk, it types!” they’d all say, astonished at the technology, walking around an office. Now, that doesn’t have much to do with this post, because it seems as though I’m having a hard time talking. In my current day / world / non-80s IBM setting, I type when I’m having a hard time talking. I mean. I type a bunch, all the time. But sometimes, when I can’t talk — I type. Hence the current moment.

I tweeted earlier this evening that I’m having a tough time finding my words lately, which is a true story. And what I couldn’t fit in the tweet is that I don’t know if practicing (by going out and talking more) will help, or if this is one of those times when I should shut up until it passes. Obviously I’m voting for the latter, via the impermanence of the internet, because even thought the Internet Remembers Everything, we can always go back and delete it if the things don’t all fit together properly.

Thanks, technology. Way to let me be wishy-washy about what I am Putting Out There.

Tonight I had happyhourish snacks and beverages with a friend I’ve interfaced a lot with online for my love-work (as opposed to my day job work, although the three year plan has them as one and the same somewhere down the line) but not tons IRL. And since I’ve been having a hard time finding my words, I found myself in a state of Perpetually Awkward over said snacks and beverages. Choosing to tell a strange series of stories about myself. Feeling like I was painting a pretty inaccurate snapshot of what my world look/s/ed like. And then thinking too much about what I was saying and then thinking about how I was thinking instead of talking and then feeling like Ross.

There’s nothing like being around someone with no hang-ups to (a) show you how bad your hangups are and (b) make you wish you didn’t have hangups, and in my case, (c) in the upside of the overthinking make you ingest, learn, digest, and pass through another little window of Figuring Things Out. It’s true in my world, and probably for a lot of other folks, that someone, somewhere, has got to get the dirty part of the learning curve, any given learning curve we’ve got going on at the moment. Tonight it was a friend at happy hour and me having a post-breakup tough word-time. A few weeks ago it was said relationship, bearing the brunt of “oh! So this is how I am when I’m in this kind of a relationship…”. And when I moved to Seattle, it was Sean Nelson (who bore the brunt of my Meeting A Famous Person IRL And Then Being Weird Around Them And Possibly Emailing Too Much curve, in case anyone is wondering). But, like my interaction with Sean, and the one this evening, and hopefully even the heartbreak-y one, the curve cleans out and the next time that particular bend comes up in the road, it’s less messy. And suddenly three-years-ago you can’t believe how well you’re handling x, y and z; and now-you is telling a story about three-years-ago you that sounds like you’re talking about a different person. And on and on. And eventually I get better at stuff. And think less. But tonight… I suppose tonight falls under taking one for the team.

Sorry, everyone I hung out with tonight. It’s just where I’m at right now. I promise, it’s not always like this.

So, the learning from the learning curve. (Sidebar, “Amy” is rolling through the radio speakers right now — falling in and out of love / with you “Amy” — and that’s on my Eventually When I Am Good Enough To Play Joke Cover Songs In Public, I Will Play These Songs With Chords list.) What’s the takeaway, outside of waxing… poetic (not really) about feeling awkward? One is that I’m just at where I’m at. Period. Not much there that takes a genius to figure out, and insert the line here about the simplicity and simultaneous trial of finding self-acceptance. Another one is to ask for a plus one when I need one, and if it’s a no, it’s a no — it’s not a “fuck you for asking for a plus one, forever! How dare you!?!?!” or anything like that. And another is to quit waiting around to have time to do things and just do them instead of adding them to The List. If I want things to talk about, I have to do things worth talking about. For me. Even if that thing is, “You know, I really want to get a couple of my friends naked and wrap them up in Christmas lights and do a photo shoot.” Especially if that’s the thing I want to talk about.

And then I suppose sometimes you have to talk type about being stuck. To learn about how to be unstuck.

You know, reader that does not exist of this not-published-yet post, I’m so distracted by the amount of synchronicity going on these days — the amount of it is all relative to all the non-synchronicious things going on all the time, and you just don’t notice the things you don’t notice, and therefore the things that seem to be all synchronicityish stand out more, other people would talk about god and Signs and such, but — for fuck’s sake. I sure am having a lot of it. Much in regards to the aforementioned relationship, all the way up to losing a train of thought on this post for the sake of catching a paper star folded up on the ground out of the corner of my eye, that I haven’t seen since the night it was made from the chopstick-wrapper weeks ago. Le sigh.

Back to the learning: I’m bigger than I think, and not in the egomaniac way. Taller, too. And I should have steak when I want steak. There is a world where dieting is preposterous and the thought of disaligning with the true self is unimaginable. And that is the world where, while I am familiar with it, I am not residing in consistently enough, and I want to live in it more consistently. So I will. And when I don’t, at least I’ve grown up enough in my moderately-wise old thirty-four years now that I’ve got a way to sort it out.

I think that’s the end. I’ve been reading about biphasic sleeping and all this shit about ninety minute increments and what have you, and I’ve got to go do some math to figure out when the best time is to go to bed to get primo sleep on the shortest schedule. Wish me luck. And thanks for listening reading.

popcorn for dinner