i was not expecting to be sitting where i am right now any time soon. where i am sitting is in terminal c at albany international airport. i did not have enough money to make my annual trip to california to visit eric—or so i say—however, i did have enough money to go visit my grandparents in florida, yet again.
and so here i am, having just cleared security, waiting to be whisked away by a small commercial aircraft to a state far, far away from new york. i love albany, but i just needed to get away from everywhere i have been since early august. it was at that point in time that any semblance of happiness and sanity that i had dissipated into thin air.
but more on that later.
i decided shortly after having booked this trip—this second winter vacation of mine—that, even though i needed a break from work—in the sense that i just needed a break from doing anything professionally proactive—that there was work to be done, and moreover, could be done with the free time that i would have.
i have been silent for nearly a year. not all of that year was horrific. but i will not say that it was a cakewalk, either. nevertheless, i have barely spoken about a thing—written down a thing. eventually, the shell i made for myself this past fall cracked and i just had to talk to people—friends and family—as everything seemed to be crumbling around me. and it has been helpful, i think.
but, there is still so much that has only been given the freedom to bounce around the cobweb-filled recesses of my consciousness—and probably my subconscious, too. and so, i decided that while travelling, i will write down as much as i can possibly remember that i wanted to—needed to—need to—talk about. and it is my hope that with the free time in a different climate, in a different state—in a different state of mind—that i will be able to write uninhibited and have the courage to discern and expel the true nature of my mental and social collapse these past few months, and return to new york—to albany, my home—with an entirely different perspective on life and an entirely renewed opinion of myself.
this will not be easy, and i had no notions otherwise. it can be ugly, transforming thoughts in the mind into words on a page—discovering the degree of ones own major shortcomings, self-depravity, and global negligence in a way that is wholly and entirely retraceable and—to a point—un-editable. which is to say, when writing freely, everything comes out, and when going back and reading it, it can be edited as much as desired, however, writing it all down in the first place serves its purpose: you learn in disgusting detail how you truly feel about yourself and everything around you.
this all reads like crap—i am out of practice. but for once, i refuse to label what i hope to accomplish as “crap”. i think that this is a very important goal i have set for myself, and i sure hope that i can achieve it—if not in its entirety, then at least to some substantial degree.
apparently, the plane will be boarding soon.
here i go.