On Life Cosmic - A Review

"Oh," he said, while a small grin grew toothy across his face, "you're a bit of a wildcard, aren't ya?"

They walked toward me with a slovenly gait. Slammed a beer next to me, and pushed my jacket off the barstool next to mine. "What are you some sort of loaner?"

"You a traveler?" He asked from behind the glass before handing me my ticket.

"You're kind of a hermit," she said, awkwardly putting the back of her hand against my shoulder. "Right?"

"From just meeting you, I'd call you an..... Aprochable drifter."

"My first guess?" He said, eyeing me up and down." Homebody."

"Yeah," he said, "I can tell," he added, pausing between bites, "You're a real firestarter.

He threw one leg over the other and closed the journal in front of him. "You don't seem to care about much, eh?"

"Careful son, passion swings both ways," he said, looking up to me.

"Some people don't mind being a stick in the mud."

"Did you know that he's kind of hilarious?"

"You know you're not funny, right?"

"Doesn't say much."

"Can't seem to shutup."

"He keeps to himself."

"Asks too many questions."

"Hey there. You seem lonely."

For whatever reason I put a lot of value in what people say about me.

All of it, the good and the bad, sticks like gum on sandpaper. I'm obsessed with reviews, but the ones on me are sort of contradictory and that's always given me pause, because I eventually came to realize I don't really know who I am anymore.

I always thought the whole finding yourself thing was bull. That you just were who you were and that was it. Then I grew up and in the process (or maybe it was due to how I) got hit by several emotional trucks.

Most of which put my entire sense of identity in question. And with that, my whole thought that "finding yourself" wasn't necessary, kind of jumped straight out the window.

So here I am. In Oregon. Waiting for my plane to New York. Living a life that feels like a caricature opposite to the image I thought I had of myself.

A year ago, I decided to care about personal identity and the quest for it. Like most of my generation I was born a stoic, so I didn't need to think too hard about what it means to be human. I looked through the not so distant mirror. Picked up the pieces of broken earth I inherited and knew I had to do what I could to make the best of it.

Somewhere along the way, the wires got crossed and I decided my role as a human was a good enough substitute for my role as a person, which, well… left me seeming mysterious but ultimately just a passive human being.

This past year has been about untangling that and the other messed up things that seemed to get locked in my brain's circuitry.

Am I out of the woods?

No. There's a whole lot of weird conditioning that I picked up from so many people that I'm picking out right now. But it's like combing burrs out of cotton candy.

I've been depressed and have written depressing blogs and done depressing things because I lost my way a bit. I'm not stressing, straying from the path is part of everyman's [sic] journey.

A long time ago I realized that everyone I've ever met has a picture of who I am in their head. And that picture doesn't have to match anybody else's. It's who I have to be for that person. Not out of interest, but out of obligation.

For a long time in my life I cared a lot about pruning myself to be the person everyone thought I was. I did what I could to embody the qualities I imagined they saw in me.

I accidentally shrugged that off last June because, shocker, someone else expected that of me. But like an old blanket I came back to it. And for a few months I let it fold over me again. I found myself living to appease what was expected of me. I found myself without wants outside of the want to meet all expectations. I would consider that me doing my cosmic best.

But we don't live on a cosmic scale. Have you ever seen Mt. Saint Helen's!? Or the stars? For christsake look at the damn sky. You think we can compete with that?

So I'm remembering to live for me again. I'm trying to untangle myself from this suffocating shroud, even if it's warm. It's hard. And I'm not sure exactly what'll come out of it. I don't want to romanticize who I could be. Because I'm not going to be him again.

I'm just going to be my best self. Well at least I'll try.

Thanks for reading. And hey look at that, I'm headed home soon.