Stuff to See!

Reach Exceeding Grasp

I got an iPod for Christmas this year (funny...I always thought I was on Santa's naughty list), and I've spent the better part of a well-deserved 9 days off playing with it. With a little help from my friends, and a lot of time searching the internet and ripping my own mp3s, my 5 gig beast has over 320 songs (22 hours of music and other sound files), which is more than enough for whatever I'd need to do (if you're interested, check out my song list, although I'm sad to say that I won't be able to easily share them with many people at a time). This generous gift is quite possibly the coolest thing I own, and I am very thankful to those people who gave it unto me.
As a result of my iPod-related zeal, a number of other things I wanted to do on my vacation (see my father in Ohio, get a second job...take other steps to reduce my debt, find a mate, etc...) just did not happen, although it wasn't all my fault. Oh well...if I got everything done, I'd be bored in the future, so I'm actually taking steps to help my well-being. Right.
2003 began well, in the company of friends, and with plenty of bloodshed (one friend had the new Mortal Kombat game). Still, the urge to completely disappear is growing...to cut all ties, and to begin anew. Considering I have a dear relative who is completely missing and unaccounted for, I know how my friends and family would feel if I just ran away, but I also know what might drive a man to that sort of action. If you're reading this, Alec...shoot me a line. I miss you.
It all seemed so much easier when I was younger. I stood out in the crowd by one virtue or another, and most people would say that I was a lock to succeed in life. Not that it's over yet, but I feel success is not quite part of what I've accomplished so far. If I was to die tonight, I wouldn't exactly be disappointed with what I hadn't done, but I am quite aware that I haven't done as much as I know I can. Take writing, for example. This whole Pen of Pantazonis thing was supposed to be a tool to get me to write more...and while it's become the prominent attraction of this website (at least in sheer volume), I haven't been as productive in other creative areas. Poor RZ has been neglected, although not forgotten (I'm stuck in one pivotal part of the story and I'd like to have it straight before I commit more to disk). I've written exactly TWO pieces of non-opinion work, although I really like the last one. And most of the opinion stuff has had less to do with the world around us, but with my personal problems, and that's just pathetic.
Maybe I feel like I don't have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I do spend more time listening to other people talking about their problems, their lives, and their dreams, than talking about my own situation. That's not to say that the others are at fault...I've always been more of a listener/adviser than a talker (although my sister might disagree). People thank me for my ear, but I don't really do much more than listen. Maybe occasionally I'll give a piece of advice, but usually I serve my purpose by allowing others to unwind.
And yet, when people ask me about my problems, I'm reluctant to say anything. I do talk to some people, but it's not in my nature to look to others for guidance, or even for an ear to chew, a shoulder to cry on, although I know that my friends and family are willing to serve. I'm a loner at heart, although I've tried to change that recently, and mostly failed. Even in the company of others I tend to become an island of observation...and unless I'm with one other person, people tend not to speak much to me. They know by instinct that I prefer it that way.
My missing cousin...he was around my age when he completely vanished from my life. I wonder if he feels like I do...or felt like I do when he was my age. His experience was similar to mine in some ways, in others quite different. I won't go into details, but my heart does go out to him. If we were to meet today...I really don't know what would happen. I'd hope we take each other to heart as long lost brethren, but I really don't know how he would react, or how I would. As my mood has darkened, or sobered, recently, the more my thought has turned to Alec. Somehow, I keep thinking that one day, I'll find him, and help him make his way back. More likely than not, he will have to make contact with us, which is probably the way it should be.
It ends, for the moment, in confusion.