I've been struggling with block since the new choir year started actually, not least because moving out was dreadful, but also the impact of actually being a "grown up" (in the loosest usage of the term to date) is quite... disquieting? Is that what I mean? It's new and unfamiliar, like learning to walk again. The refreshing sensation of being able to leave the Scholary behind outside the east gate is still a novelty, this only being the second month of living away compared to the previous twenty four. Even though I am yet to fulfill any societal concepts of adult life, I feel much more positive on the whole. Things have improved, and continue to do so.
Something that I recently identified that was having an negative effect on my writing is how deeply attached I am to the outcome. This is not fiction (sadly?), and knowing that friends and acquaintances regularly read sometimes makes me dreadfully nervous. I never used to be afraid. Well, not so much. Years spent trying to keep all the people happy all of the time have wasted what emotional strength I do have, and in fact when I am not able to do so I feel disappointed in my own self. The monster may no longer stare back out from the mirror, but who is there now? A sycophant? Please. How awful. Even though I am no stranger to controversy or confrontation, it is almost as if I shy away deliberately these days. It's like I am trying to project an image that I simply have no right to. Oh spare me a little, that I may recover my strength before I go hence and be no more seen! Even after three years, no names and a slew of cultural references, I am still worried that people might find out not just what I think, but also what I feel - almost seeking out mediocrity as a mode of expression to keep all the secrets from everyone. Including myself.
Of course, the outcome that I fear the most is rejection. An almost paralysing fear that keeps me from taking any sort of chance you could imagine: financial, professional, dietary... The most mundane things. The biggest fear of course, is being rejected in a romantic way (sorry this is stilted but I'm trying to search for a better expression). It's one of the things I try to keep secret from myself, with questionable success rates. I go through awful psychological loops where I can even feel ashamed sometimes to be attracted to somebody. Why bother even looking? What woman would ever look at me? I am the lowest of the low, but still haven't hit Tyler's "rock bottom". Of course, long time readers and fans of the Captain will point out that in the past things have worked out, but really they haven't worked out for very long and have shown increasing patterns of (ding ding you guessed it) borderline sycophancy on my part. Maybe self destruction is the answer! All the time running in the background is that critical fear of rejection. Of upsetting the status quo. It makes me weak, and dreadfully so. It is as if I have nothing to be proud of. Boo hoo how sad! It remains far easier to hide in the shadow of platonic and familial relationships with men than actually admit to one's desires for a woman. I'm sure I can't be the only human being who feels like that, let alone the only autist. Sometimes, normal people don't have every thing easy after all, which I am slowly learning.
Vomit. How close to the truth we came but swerved away! I'm sure we'll be back here soon, as once again, it's the biggest problem on my mind. Even living in a climate of self-imposed austerity isn't actually that much of a problem, and as luck would have it have often found time and place to earn a quick buck to keep the booze rolling in. Turns out that what could charitably be described as Truro's one and only Dive Bar found so far has just as much place in destroying my liver as does the classy cocktail joint where everyone knows my name. My domestic arrangement continues to improve, and I'm pleased to say I get on very well with my Landlord! As much as I would like to live in my own place rather than just a rented room, there have been a few episodes already where having another person to talk to has made all the difference. Critically, I do not feel lonely even half as much as I have before. It is like I've finally got chance to sure up the walls of the cracked edifice that I am, which is a true Godsend! Even though the weather is dreadful, things are looking up, but don't worry! I'm not going to finish on some sort of blitheringly hopeful note. It's more the fact that...
...It isn't that bad.
Postscriptum
New schedule coming. Alongside singing every day, I've taken to transcribing une grande messe d'orgue to fill up my time. I'm trying to finish it in time for the Chief's birthday, so fingers crossed! In the meantime, I think I'm finally going to try my hand at a little fiction, and might even publish that epic in Haiku form I've been working on...
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