what does that say

i wrote, or started to write, three posts in june that i didn't publish, what does that say? it's a month of incompletion, of lostness, or, maybe not lostness, but misdirection, i was moving, just not getting anywhere.

i feel sort of drained. i need a respite. some time to get back on track. i've slacked on my workouts. i've slacked on some of my fun projects. i've slacked on thinking. i'm moving, but i don't have a direction.

i've got some interesting ideas for work that i want to flesh out, but haven't made the time. then there's my music blog, which is a genuine opportunity to build a community, and we've already got people interested, but i haven't made the time to set it in motion. i have about 400 books waiting for me to read, and 300 movies waiting for me to watch, and a family that hasn't seen me in a while or spent quality time with in months.

i have the most amazing friends a man could want, but i'm skipping out on a bday party this weekend and another the week after, i haven't talked to one of my best friends in a couple of months (he's got a new gf, which explains some of it, but it's mostly my fault) and i have someone new that wants more of my time, and i'm not willing to give it to her, and i haven't spent enough time at the pool this summer, or enough time researching barcelona, or enough time walking to get breakfast at the diner on saturday mornings when the sun's angle is sharp and the shadows are long and my disconnection only feels like a moment in time, only feels like another mood or another fleeting inconsistency. two weeks ago i went hiking with friends, and we jumped around like idiots and talked about women and their complexities and about adventure and seeing things and doing things, not just talking about doing things, i ended up jumping in a waterfall, and there's a lot to be said for my need to feel the rushing water over my head.

life probably sounds awful, but the greatest comfort is my existential philosophy, is the thought that i make this life what i want it to be. if i want to talk to my friends more, i pick up the phone. i don't wait for someone to call me and help me feel connected or special or wanted. i do it. if i want to get out in nature, i get up and go hiking, or i sit out on my patio and watch the lightning bugs flicker as the taxis drive into the madness of dc. if i want to meet her, i walk up to clarendon and get a drink and say hello. if i want to see my mother's face and my father's mustache, i drive 45 minutes. life really is a series of choices set before us, we have to choose, i have to choose to call elizabeth and hear her amazing voice and her tender laughter. i have to choose to workout and jump rope and play basketball and go to the golf range. i have to choose to fall in love and tell her she has centered me. i have to choose to write. and i have to choose to think. and cry and laugh and be afraid. i have to choose those things.

right now, i'm not choosing much. i'm letting the waterfall rush over me.