The Way Forward

It's a season of rebuilding. Post-COVID, post-PTSD ("post" in that neither of them are ever actually going away, but if feels like things might be getting better), getting back to at least some semblance of normalcy, albeit at diminished functionality. Haha, "normal." That notion is an arbitrary, toxic myth. 

I've been examining my assets and connections to each past chapter of my story, each epoch of my life, assessing the current state of each one. I've talked many times about that sort of thing, but it's different now. I'm not talking about how I approached picking up the pieces during my reflective 2016, after the breast cancer (the first crisis) had turned my existentialism and anxiety into overdrive. 

No, I'm not clinging to the past. As I'd already told a circle of friends from college recently: It's not about regaining lost glory. It's not about what we were. It's about what we are now. 

I'm going to turn 40 this summer, and I am taking stock in a different way--still trying to make everything mean something, but now in a more realistic and relevant way. I am putting everything in the context of the way forward, building my 2021 and 2022. Of course, my efforts are still at the mercy of the pandemic, but I'm working on it. 

I am making an extra effort to reconnect with old friends. It might seem pointless and doomed to fail if I were expecting to revive the dynamics we used to have, because long distance correspondence is not companionship. But I am not trying to be a cyberspace drinking-buddy-by-proxy or anything like that. I am trying to be more of a consultant, a life coach of sorts, someone more involved on a regular basis, involved in the present goings-on in the lives of the people I can't hang out with in person anymore. 

I'm not explaining it very well, I know. But I have sent video greetings to a few people in this manner, as a first step. I'm starting a movement, something I was unable to do during the past few years of crisis management. Now I am taking strides toward being present. 

But that's where my Truman friends stand. My next move shall involve BGSU, where I went to grad school after that. I will not just be trying to salvage the precious few good parts of that chapter of my life, but pissing in the eye of my enemies once again for the sake of catharsis. Deliverance. Closure. Eh, probably not closure. But I am turning 40 this summer, and that's a whole new tens digit. Getting too old to care about such things anymore. So I will do what I have to do in order to call it a conclusive victory. Conquest. Yes, that would be a very fine feather in my cap on my 40th birthday. But more importantly, I am troubled my the fact that my once best friends have seemingly forgotten about me. 

Much of Easter was spent ruminating on something I'd blogged about a couple years ago, with the post "Metro Memori." Another chapter of my life worth taking stock of, though sadly this particular circle of friends truly had stopped caring about me. 

I've looked at my life, my assets, my resources, and what I am lacking. I have determined the way forward. I have my eye on a dojo. I won't say which one, but I've finally found what I need in order to regain the lifestyle I once had. After a few more months of recovering from this weird, debilitating muscle and ligament condition with the help of the right chiropractor, I will get back in shape and introduce myself to my future community there. That is the way forward. It will open more doors with the people I will meet there. I will rebuild myself, but it will take time. 

I also want to get a tabletop gaming group together. I have ideas for that, but no people. And my house is still a construction zone. Maybe in a couple years when the kids are older and easier to leave to their own devices, I can get some people together once or even twice a month for an RPG. 

I have big ideas for my music composition career, but I've been stymied by budget reality and an overburdened schedule that has suffocated my free time, time that could have been spent making music. I don't see the point in talking about my grand vision yet, not unless or until it is already underway, because I don't want to deal with the embarrassment of failure to launch. Talk is cheap, so I don't want to reveal too much too early. But I have a plan. I have a vision. 

I spent much of September revamping my professional vision, and I also started a placeholder Facebook page for a local New Music organization that I founded. I spent days just deciding on the perfect name, and created Ensemble Eclectica. More on that later. It is also the way forward, for similar reasons as the dojo: it will give me a sense of personal fulfillment, it will become a community, and it will open other doors. And we will put on public recitals with a post-academic slant. It will be glorious. Again, at the mercy of this pandemic. 

This blog post has been vague, cryptic, poorly written, and largely unhelpful. I apologize for that. I am distracted by my kids, and I admit my reticence to actually blog about the bulleted list of things alluded to here. It was either this post or nothing at all. 

The secret to happiness is to keep your dreams flexible in their definitions and how they can manifest. That's how you achieve your goals: keep their terms abstract. I'm adaptable. My Freshman year of college, for example, it was compose film music or bust. Now, I have found something in that spirit, but better. And I am in sole creative control, while doing all the other things I want to do with my life that being a resident composer wouldn't allow. Thus, I win with a straight flush. But not yet. Not yet.

It's a season of rebuilding. But it's very slow-going. 

I have a vision of what 2022 can be. And it is flexible perfection. At least now I know the way forward.