Little Bill

It feels like every step I take lately comes with a price. It’s as if compromise is the only way I can through the days, or the weeks. I get something I’m looking for, but it’s never a complete package. And with that the fear that perhaps my desires are unrealistic and that I should Be Happy With What I’ve Got.

The idealist in me wants to maintain some modicum of hope that somewhere out there exists That Which I Am Looking For — all packaged up with a neat ribbon tied up in a bow on top. The realist in me is quite aware that compromise happens; that sometimes You Can’t Always Get What You Want.

Where’s the balance in all of this? These compromises come in many forms. Creative pursuits, romantic relationships, friendships, obligations, desires, living situations, you name it. If I were to become ruthless in my pursuits, would I transform into a person that might drive away other things near and dear to me? Would it, then, go back to what I wrote yesterday? Beware of what you seek, you just might get it?

On the other hand I could choose to live passively, letting what may happen happen. Or even worse, I could fall into the stagnation of The Comfort Zone; not allowing myself to ever take a risk. There I’ve been before.

Is "the happy medium" really all that great? Is it just compromise disguised as contentment? Is this why, after a while, people grow restless? The seven year itch? Midlife crisis?

Incidentally, who’s the moron who coined the term Quarter-life Crisis? Was it John Mayer? Someone punch him. I digress.

So I’m going to figure out how to get That Which I Am Looking For without sacrificing That Which I’m Afraid To Lose. You make your own opportunities. Even if an opportunity presents itself — like the blessing-in-disguise that was my getting laid off from a job in my hometown — you have to seize and capitalize upon it otherwise it’s just a Missed Opportunity. They call it that for a reason. And then sometimes you create your own fortunes.

Could this entire thought process simply be boiled down to the cliché: "Shit or get off the pot?" Carpe Diem? Sieze the Toilet?

I remember a time when I thought you were the everything that I was looking for. Not only did you encompass every cliché I could drag out of my brain but you could break them. You were the end-all-be-all. You were the apple of my eye, the yin to my yang.

You were the fire in my loins.

And then the inevitable happened: I got what I wished for. I wasn’t careful, either. I just held onto that one lonely wish as if it were the a fine grain of sand in my palm, so easy to drop, or brushed away.

The best part is, I discovered you weren’t what I wanted. In fact, you were so far off the mark one might wonder if I was even aiming at a target.

But that’s okay, because I’ve learned more about myself through you. Through observing you, pining for you, gaining you, losing you, regaining you and walking away from you I’ve discovered you aren’t Her.

…and I wonder if you ever will be. Not for me, but for anyone. And if you become someone’s Her, will you want him?

I’ve found myself keeping a low profile lately. Haven’t felt like sharing much that’s going on in my life, which happens from time to time. Sometimes it’s good (and I don’t want to jinx it) and sometimes it’s bad (and I just don’t want to talk about it) and sometimes it’s both. Which do you think it is this time?