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2000-01-05 | 20:47:32

» sabatical

Firsts things first. I stopped making entries in Diaryland over two months ago. I can't really explain why. Part of me just got tired of the pathos (mine and everyone else's). Part of me was annoyed that DiarylAndrew took down the "most recent updates" list, leaving us with one or two "featured users" to browse. Part of it was just plain apathy. And, on the bright side, there might have been a slight upswing in my social activity.

In any event, I'm posting now, and I might post again tomorrow or next week. I don't know. But I wanted to say that I was really delighted by the mail I recieved asking why I stopped writing. A few of you asked if I was dead. I wanted to respond with something like, "Thanks for asking. No I'm not dead, but if I were that would be OK by me." I very sorry that I didn't respond to any of the mail I recieved. It was rude of me.

So, what brought me back? I'm not sure about that yet either. I haven't looked at Diaryland since November of '99. I know of a few other people who also stopped making entries about the same time I did, for their own reasons. In fact, I met one of those people face-to-face today and had lunch with him. One of the nicer people I've met. Maybe it was because we talked about Diaryland and the community and the fact that DiarylAndrew was written up in Salon.com and the guilty feeling of neglect that brought me back here.

Part of it is the realization of what a great tool this can be. I can sit and write and write and know that someone out there will be odd enough to read what I've written. Writing is a great way to fight off the depression associated with a fairly lonely existense.

OK, I'll get to the bit where I catch myself up...

• I've been unofficially promoted to the head of my department at work. (good thing)
• I've got the divorce papers lying scattered across my bed this very moment, waiting for my signature, so that my (ex)-wife, who is now two months pregnant with someone else's baby, can get on with her life. (good/bad thing)
• After a conversation about the divorce with my (ex)-wife on the phone about 30 minutes ago, I finally managed to choke out a few good sobs, tears, convulsions and pained wailing noises that have been bottled up for the last 18 months. Now I feel worn out but incredibly stable. (good thing)
• I feel much more happy with my life and the direction of my life in general now that I've decided that promotion or no promotion, my job is not nearly as important as my dreams. (good thing)
• I've met a few very nice women, although none of them is quite my ideal mate -- whatever that may be. And my two year stretch of celibacy remains intact. (good thing I guess)

Well, I guess that's about it. Mostly good I guess, but it's all relative.

I'll try to let myself get back into the swing of things. I'll also not limit myself to a short entry like I used to. I figure that it really isn't important if anyone really reads this, as long as it's a possibility.

And the last thing I have to say...

I really miss Gloria and I've never been able to fully give up hope that someday she would want me back. I know how sad and unhealthy that sounds. It's like looking down at your own arm and seeing what once was a nice little mole suddenly black and bleeding (and yes, I've experienced that too). I see the problem in myself, but I see it passively and I don't react to it in the same way I would if I saw it in a friend.

But now she's with this new guy and they are going to have a baby together and he's six years older than her. I guess that's not unusual. But I can't keep from telling myself that she always was bad at making important decisions (she married me right?) and I worry about the result of her current decision.

But in reality, I have enough to worry about right here in the form of me. Is it possible that someone as sappy as Whitney Houston inadvertently uncovered a little bit of the truth when she sang about learning to love yourself? It sickens me to admit it, but I could do with a little more affection and understanding towards myself. Whatever that means.