I poured myself a tall one. As the documentary buffers on YouTube, I settle and just decided to change the name of my blog. Between puffs of smoke and an occasional sip from my own concoction of lemon ice tea and brandy (don’t ask, it’s the only mix I know that doesn’t leave me shitfaced drunk) and looked at my blog wondering if I should delete it altogether or continue an intermittent flow of posts.
What’s the point?
Turns out, it is the whole point in all of this: the questions, the doubts, tribulations, frustrations, occasional bragging rights and stuff. it is entirely the point – take everything with a grain of salt. But not to accept readily.
And besides, this is the only time I could carry a conversation long enough to find a conclusion. It’s why it reads”
“This is me talking to myself.”
Because I haven’t been this way with myself for a long time. I know I am a real introvert since I was a kid. Yes, I grew up in a small town where virtually everyone knows everybody. But I know I am always an outsider. I don’t just feel it. I embraced it. Even now that I am fast approaching my 45th year on this Earth, somehow I crave that idea of being left alone, whenever possible. To do things my own way.
Of course, it’s not entirely possible to just think of myself, but I do, now, consider myself and my family, the ME I should be thinking about. And I could still be loyal to my friends, my co-workers, my superiors, and still maintain that aloofness that has been set aside for sometime.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I enjoy my new habitation with Jackson and Gerard, and the apartment just feels like home now. Being the oldest guy is also a good thing, they usually leave me alone. Good, sensible people, these two housemates of mine.
So, I’m back into being myself.
My komiks seem to be going quite well. And I hope this writing and illustrating will be a means to an end. I have the symptoms of having serious issues with city living.