Warning: major rambling and introspective crap follows:
In September I wrote a post entitled "What I Really Want."
I honestly believed that to be true. But the intervening months have led me to understand that it is not nearly as simple nor cut-and-dried as all that.
What I want changes so constantly that every time I set sail for one destination, by the time I am a fraction of the way there I have lost interest and may wish to go in the opposite direction entirely.
My needs are probably a lot easier to base my actions upon: food, clothing, shelter... companionship and a little sunlight? Very basic.
I have never been comfortable with the pursuit of wealth nor with attempting to maintain a position within society. Does this make me crazy or saner than most? Or is it all part of my overall condition?
As I have seldom truly felt happiness in my life except for fleeting moments whose ethereal quality always left something to be desired, I don't really know what it feels like to not live on the edge - waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It amazes me to see the vast differences between people's lots in life. Leonard Cohen, for example, never truly had to WORK a day in his life. He lost his father at a young age, and his inheritance subsidized his life to give him an unparallelled freedom. I can not imagine how different and beautiful my life might have been under such circumstances. However, at the other end of the spectrum we have those who are born in filth to live their lives and die as loathsome and hated creatures - barely acknowledged as even human.
What a dichotomy there is between the lowest of the low and the priviliged few who often don't even realize just how fortunate they are.
Where does that leave me? Pondering, as always: more than I should be... more thoughts go through my head than there are travelers at JFK on any given day.
My husband is still largely a stranger to me after nearly 23 years of cohabitation. We have very little in common and most of the things he enjoys bore me to tears. Or worse, things such as the type of humor he enjoys really disgust me. My children, likewise, enjoy things that I do not - and neither my husband nor my children come to my gigs or really care much about my music or the things that are important to me.
Could it be possible that the time is approaching when I should leave my family and accept that it is not my future... but my past... and that my grown children will likely seek out their father more often than me, so they probably won't be needing me for much longer: if they really need one such as I to begin with.
I am uncertain of my contributions, the only certainty that I have is in the fact that I did not stop with one or two children as most people do. I chose to have quite a few kids despite being a poor role model and less-than-nurturing mother.
I breastfed them all, some longer than others... but most of them weaned of their own accord when they were ready. I wonder if the age at which they chose to wean has any implications regarding their future, such as whether they'll be young when they leave home or wait until they're a little older. I suppose that remains to be seen and will be interesting to look back upon in retrospect.
My children are generally well-behaved, honest, kind and decent. But when they are not I am ashamed and feel that it is my fault. Maybe it's not, but it feels like I have failed when they do not act the way they are supposed to... and I have. I failed on many levels, while succeeding in a hit-or-miss fashion on others.
I don't feel like a failure, per se... but I do feel like a perpetual loser. Losing, losing... losing. It is hard NOT to lose things when you live your life in a bubble, in your own little world - often completely oblivious to everyone and everything around you. Some of my neighbors feel that I am rude when I neglect to wave or stop and chat... but I honestly don't even see them most of the time. I see my internal world instead. Sometimes I'm so deeply involved within my own thoughts that it's nearly impossible to break through to me.
I wonder if a time will come when that 'nearly impossible' will become 'completely impossible' and no one will be able to reach me any more at all?