No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2002-07-25 - 11:25 a.m.

The difference bewteen 19 and 30, and a little about RockGirl

I found out yesterday how big a difference there is between 19 and 30. The difference is huge.

When I was 19 I went with Dad, and ShortBroInLaw, and one of his friends and climbed a mountain. I remember that climb now as a fast, fun, easy climb. We sauntered up it and we ran down it and I felt good.

Yesterday, eRoommate and I went and tackled that same mountain. I'm not 19 anymore. We slogged up it, and we stumbled down it, and it took us hours longer than we expected. It's a good thing the weather was clear yesterday, because we were two hours later summitting than I'd planned. (One of the first rules of mountain climbing I learned from Dad: Be on your way *down* by noon. Here in Colorado, there are almost always thunderstorms on the way by noon or 1. You want to be below tree-line before they hit. Dad almost got struck by lightning once, so he drilled this one into he hard.)

Today I am a mess of aches and pains, with dime-sized blisters on each of my little toes. I am feeling my age today. I'm not 19 anymore.

Of course, the alert reader might be asking how old Dad was back when we hit the mountain the first time. 50. Dad was 50 and he kept up with all us young pups. But here's the thing. Dad is now 61 and he could probably *still* kick a 19 year-old's ass. That's just Dad. He kicks ass.


I'm going to take a brief break from my self-imposed RockGirl moratorium. Sue me.

One thing I learned about myself long ago (in response to my mother's constant guilt trips) is this. If you try to be all passive-aggresive and lay a guilt trip on me, it doesn't work. All it does is piss me off.

I'm not being a good boyfriend right now, and I know that part of that is a semi-subconcious effort to convince her that I'm not a good boyfriend period. I could be a good boyfriend. I will be a good boyfriend. When I fall in love. Which I haven't done. With RockGirl.

She and I need to talk because a lot of things are festering.

And once again, I need to talk to her about this instead of just writing about it in here. Which is why I set up my now-broken moratorium in the first place.

It occurs to me that long-time readers of this journal (who I could probably count on one hand, and by the by, thanks, I love you guys/gals) may remember the long days of sad laments of how lonely I was and how all I wanted was a girlfriend.

Now I have a girlfriend, so what's with all the bitching and complaining? I should have been more specific. I want a girlfriend where I'd rather spend time with her than do anything else in the world. I don't want a girlfriend where sometimes I can be with her and still feel lonely.

I want the Gold Standard.

RockGirl doesn't believe in the Gold Standard.

Okay, I need to stop this now. I have stuff to do.

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