Excess Baggage

Ha. Ha. Ha. So, more remarkable change. This is the first semester in years that I’m not actively enrolled in school. That will change shortly, but physically and educationally, I’m a free agent. I’ve learned over the last couple of years that sometimes, it is best to let go than to continue fighting a battle where the outcome doesn’t merit the exertion. Still, six units short of an MA…I won’t have to try too hard to find somewhere else that would let me finish the job. I knew I overstayed my welcome at CSULB by a good two years. But alas, I can’t cry over spilled milk because my heart wasn’t in it. I had become personally guilty of the worst cardinal sin: not stretching my talents to full potential. For that, I should burn in hell. And I did, for two years.

Ironically enough, I’m living the lifestyle I pretty much envisioned while I was in undergrad. No responsibilities, no appointments, just time on the absent watch on my wrist. I guess being in the here and now has put my mind at ease. Even paying bills is more of a leisurely activity since I define who I am by how I look in the mirror: absolutely gorgeous. Of course, there have been a few weird side effects from my vanity, and not quite what I had intended.

I’ve made no secret of my interest in the opposite sex. Yet, that hasn’t become as big of a priority as I thought it would be. Sure, I’m more physically appealing, and sure, my self-confidence is now at a ridiculous level where I can say I previously had low self-esteem. That’s a tough one for others to swallow, since I always held myself in the highest regard. Now, I can accurately say I hold myself in the only regard. I look at those around me much differently before. An insult flung my direction gets a shrug. Friendly banter gets a nod. My once legendary patience is now legendary for being transparent. Not transparent because I formerly lied; transparent because I openly don’t care. Letting go and devolving into simplicity is my proudest feat. Complexity got me nowhere. Outthinking people is more trouble than it’s worth.

Which brings me to letting go, since that’s been the theme lately. My latest adherent is following the gospel very strictly, even befriending people I’ve formerly dated. I’ve been supportive in his endeavor, perhaps more than I very well should. I’m not the only person in on this joke, which presents a weird situation. She hates me, yet is talking to someone that she has noticed is a dead ringer for me, if you substitute race. Social dance, check. Knowledge of esoteric holds and locks, check. Sarcasm, check. Now, he knows what I went through, so he’s picked my brain for insight. I don’t mind educating, but these days, I’d rather not talk about it because the thought of her leaves me feeling hollow. I’d be lying if I didn’t think about talking to her next year, but the fact that she practically found a surrogate…it stings. And they’re going dancing, something I taught her, but hates because of what I did. Except she likes it enough to try it again and stick to one partner when that person is my charge. Makes me wonder if I should cut him off so I don’t have to hear about her. Yes, I like one, and love the other, but I could live without the cognitive dissonance.

On a brighter note…Wrestlemania in t-minus two months. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Switchfoot “Dark Horses”

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