I am nearly over this odd virus which had kicked my butt. I still feel a bit woozy if I move to much, but I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow (or the next day). I’ll be glad to get back into the gym when this bug is out of my system.
I was checking my webpage and on a whim I decided to check my guestbook. I was surprised to see two new entries and I wondered why it didn’t email the entries to me as normal. The latest one was from Pete in Houston, a regular who’d come with a friend of his (Kelli) and sit at my bar and drink and debate politics with me. Pete is a believer of Ayn Rand’s philosophy. I am not. The post before that was from Kat. My Kat! Reading the post I turned to my right to look at her picture sitting on my window-sill. Kat had written left me an entry into my guestbook. I’ve not corresponded with her in…. what… two years? I’ve thought of her often, but I’ve emailed her. I don’t know what the problem was. Maybe part of me didn’t want to open up that wound any more, maybe I thought she doing fine without me and if I contacted her it would be opening a wound in her. Maybe I am just a dumbass… who knows. I certainly don’t. I love the time that I had with Kat, and I do think of it at times with a smile on my face. But I also remember how sad she was when I drove away the final time, before I moved to Oregon. I remember how I sat on the butte overlooking the lake near her house one day while she was at work and I contemplated in my mind the notion of staying in Texas, of moving to Belton. I remember how happy I was when I struck out on the road to Oregon… but I also remember how sad I was when I reached a red light and the reality that I had seen Kat for the last time hit me. Though I do miss her and did feel sad when I left her that last time, I feel guilty for her feeling sad and my feeling happy in moving to Oregon. I write perrenially of how I feel very sad and low for choosing to live in Oregon, away from my family in Arkansas and Mississippi and how I will briefly consider moving back home to the South. Yet I know that I am unhappy in the South. I love Oregon… I really love this state… so much that I’ve once again recently chose to remain here instead of living nearer my kin. I am reminded of the experiment placing a rat in a corridor with food and electrical shock at an end. He is driven away from the end of the tube with the shock due to fear, but he is drawn to it for hunger. The rat eventually settles into the middle of the corridor, halfway between the ends, halfway between the competing forces of fear and desire. Kat is cheese, the fact that we live in different states and both are unlikely to move is the shock.
Ah, what life is this?