I’ve been living in uncertainty for some time now. I’m not sure of the future, really pretty much ever. In fact, I have a problem with being sure of the future (okay, seriously, who doesn’t?). When I settled a bit more into my job at the studio, I realized I was that the timeframe was in years… no longer the months plan. I had this six-month time frame going for me at any given time. I didn’t know where I would be. Would I be moving to another country? What would my job be? The general process in me is now wondering if it’s the current state of sameness that I now find so uncertain. I have a very stable job. I have a solid friend base. I meet new people on a consistent basis. I work towards self-improvement when the opportunity arises. And, looking back, a year ago, I figured I’d be pretty close to where I am. 

Since I left the care of my parents, this is the longest I’ve lived in one place (while the position of my bed has changed two or three times… I’m in the same room.) Am I experiencing a form of ADHD, only in my life? Is that change like a drug… I just can’t get enough? 

I’ve been writhing at the idea that I don’t know precisely where I stand financially into the next year. But that’s normal, too. Maybe I’m dwelling on that, simply because it’s the one small piece of unstable ground I can be comfortable with. 

Oh gosh, this might be a very disturbing revelation. (Maybe) I’m not living in uncertainty at all. I could be (pretty) certain about a lot of things. I infuse my language with being (fairly) sure about something. Or I “might”. Language is a last ditch effort of injecting uncertainty into my life here. 

Does the challenge now come from finding a way to grow from this state of certainty. This stability I feared so much? Does this give me time to think through it all? 

Well thank you, these questions have been helpful, and now it’s time for me to figure out how to live in this – or get out.

(when I added the parenthetical statements… I didn’t add those terms. It’s the way I write. Oh gray area, how I love thee, but do I have to be friends with the black and white?)

There is a sort of cyclical pattern to what I may blog about, and I know “home” is one theme that has come up time and time again. There are numerous definitions and quotes from people explaining just what home is. It truly is one difficult concept to put words to, yet it seems so easy to use the term and understand the meaning. In any event, I can easily now call Denver home. I’m almost scared to say that I went to Red Rocks for the first time tonight… but it was the experience of coming home (to my house) that briefly got me thinking, I know this city. I know as well as any other that Denver isn’t all that large. I also know that after living here for nearly five years, I really should know the city… but there’s something special about driving around or getting around that makes me feel pretty good about it.

One of my favorite aspects is knowing neighborhoods, and not only knowing neighborhoods because I have one friend that lives there, but in many cases it may be a neighborhood where I attended church a few years back, and then had one friend that worked around there. Or perhaps it’s a place where I first went out for a good meal, and now nearby is an apartment for a friend. I love this, I love that I can drive through the city and know it well enough to show it off to people. Moreover, I love that it is home. 

Throughout my life, I’ve had such a large variety of friends who have spanned social groups, classes, activities and given the title of the post, someone’s age. What is so interesting is that it’s often made into such a big deal by many, and from the time that one is really young. I had two sets of siblings as friends prior to grade school, Jonathan and Christian, and Savannah and Audie. In both cases, one was a year older, the other a year younger than me. At that age, I knew how old they were, but it didn’t have much bearing on my interaction with them. In grade school, I had a good bunch of friends who were in my grade alone, but as I got involved in activities outside of school, which encompassed students from other grade levels, I became friends with a larger group, one or two years older than me, or younger than me. Into middle and high school, I had more friends who were a good bit older, and younger, and certainly in college, it became much more comfortable to have friends who were three or four years older. 

Essentially, there seems to be a societal threshold for age. A person can have friends between one age or another, and can date within a different range. I had a conversation with a group of college-friends tonight about the standards of dating. One of the guys I was talking to is dating a girl six years older than him, another friend would never date anyone younger than her. I’ve often told myself that I have these rules, but when it comes down to it, I don’t. If I disregard age completely, if it finds no bearing in the equation of who  I can or can’t date, or who I can or can’t be close friends with, I have a much better chance of making some great friends.

I have a good number of friends who I with whom I graduated from college. I have a large number of friends from my jobs – including managers and bosses. I have quite a few friends who are family to some other friends. The way that I typically meet people produces a large variety of friends, and I love every bit of it. To know that I have a good friend substantially older than me, or that I might date someone who is a bit younger than me, should it actually matter? I think there’s so much more to be concerned with than that stigma of age sameness or difference. Everyone embodies a different maturity level, a different level of intellect and understanding of the world. Everyone has a different perspective and way of thinking of the world. I know I will match up with some better than others, but keeping an open mind about those with whom I spend my time has showed such a great importance. 

When it comes down to it, I love all of my friends, whether they’re 17 or 35. Every last one of them have something brilliant to contribute to my life, and I can only hope that I have the same to offer. For me, whether I can show a hint of maturity, or bring someone to understand how they’ve learned from the place I currently am, I’m glad that those different perspectives have an opportunity to let them play a role. 

I care about age, but I don’t want to. It puts unnecessary limits onto what I should or should not do, and rather superficial limits at that. Knowing how old you are may give me a preliminary gage on how someone might act, or where they may be in their life… but everyone is on such a different path, that I don’t think it’s often accurate at all. I’m preparing myself to be amazed, regardless of your age… it’s often your experiences that matter.

I had the fortune of spending an evening with some good friends over the weekend. There was no plan aside from spending time together. What resulted was having a few drinks, great conversation and a light supper – all of which are greatly enhanced by those who spend that time with you. In any form of remote familiarity with how I conduct myself, I believe it’s quite apparent that I love conversations, as the intensity of a conversation grows, I tend to grow, thus I find myself thriving off of them.  When it comes to the majority of my beliefs, I’ve learned to not put them out on the table, lest they be attacked, so I typically take a stance and stick with it, aside from what my beliefs may be. This was not the case this last weekend, whatsoever. I stuck my neck out, I had some ideas challenged, and I’ll be left pondering for weeks, months, years to come, I’m certain. 

The most powerful thing within this realm of conversation, where I invest something that is dear to me – I thoroughly enjoy having it challenged. Why shouldn’t I? I tend to do it with everyone I encounter. How could I not expect the same in return? I often come across people who do agree with me, without the intention of sounding arrogant. I know that I am often assertive, and whether the agreement is an avoidance of conflict, I’m not sure. Perhaps I can pose an argument that for the moment makes the most sense to someone, causing agreement. There’s truly no way to be certain. What I do know, is that when I am challenged, and I guess some may say “bested” it’s by far the most important aspect to a conversation for me. I’m pushed a step or two further in my thinking.

I am delighted that I have such a variety of friends who are in my life. If only to continue to contribute story after story after story – and in conversation give me yet another perspective to consider. For those who can show me an argument to my belief that I may agree with, they are something to be treasured. 

Being vulnerable and letting it out is interesting. WIth some of the things that I’m currently feeling, I’d imagine that it’s stuff that would cause alarm in most, which is what keeps me from writing about it in any public way. Precursor to the rest: don’t be alarmed.  Beyond all things I know that there’s always hope, there’s always a time that it will get better, and chances are that will come sooner than one might imagine. I rarely find myself hopeless, and when I do, I’m typically surrounded by the love of those around me, so truly, no need to worry. To not process through the thoughts, emotions and nature of my current state, would be to slight myself, so I will do so with the utmost consideration to those who will be reading it, and definitely with more to myself who is feeling it all out. Essentially there’s a calm, quiet, yet somehow tumultuous thought process going about my existence. The thoughts running through my head are poetic, yet troublesome (not that they are mutually exclusive). There’s this one part of me that has a strong desire to lay in bed in fetal position, if only for the comfort of it – yet there’s a side of me that screams of doing something productive. I want nothing more than to spill my guts, but no words can possibly be expelled when my mouth opens. It can perhaps be compared to being hungry, with no desire to eat, or tired, with no ability to sleep. I’m feeling, and no way to express it. At least not acutely. 

There’s something isolating about my train of thought. There’s no possible way that I can be the only one to feel this way, and there are those times in which you feel you’re the only one to be/say/do something thus inspiring an extensive feeling of loneliness. Yet this is somehow different. My thoughts simply take me elsewhere. Taking a walk tonight allowed me to sort through a few things. Sitting at home tonight allowed for a couple of others. Taking a nap today gave me a break from becoming overwhelmed. I’m alright with this happening once in a while. I’m alright with every aspect of it, actually. The simple act of thought, however, can cause the beauty of this world to torment me. Seems ironic. So, I allow it for a bit, and for a little bit I’ll get caught back up in the actions of my daily life, and then at some point – I’ll feel it all in some way, and that will give me something to hold on to until that next swing to the next monkey bar where I’m just ever-so-slightly afraid of falling for those few instants. 

I don’t necessarily need respite, and true to what I know of myself, I don’t really know what I need. If only to expound on what’s going on about me for these few moments, I believe that is enough.