Idiosyncrasy

I didn't know the correct spelling for the word until tonight. I am twenty-five years old.

I want to make an effort to write again. Even if nothing I have to say is of much consequence and just contributes to the deafening overflow of information out there, I am not upset by the idea of contributing to that numbing constant dull, blunt pressure. So Even if what I say seems not to make sense, I will be alright with that. It's part of being alright with myself. Because I know that is how I function.

The last month and half, or so, I've spent nearly every week with my boss in some capacity outside of work. Usually with his wife, too. It's refreshing to know people who have similar interests in music who aren't the people who aren't the same people who know my every weakness.

A few weeks ago we hit up Hostess Club Weekender, an indie festival-type show that is held every few months in Shin-kiba.

For me, it was all about seeing Caribou. This song was uploaded to YouTube about four years ago. That seems about right. That's about when I was in that place in my life. That's when I was still making trips to Ehime regularly and listening to music until I would wear out my headphones.

But now my life doesn't allow me to listen to music constantly. I have whatever is playing in my head, but it's purely internal. I can't share that with anyone. But in general, I don't have people to share the music with right now. Maybe that's the hardest part of right now. I'm okay with myself. I'm okay with spending time on me. I get to reaffirm who I am. I can know that what I'm doing is of my own doing, and not just an attempt to adjust myself to the others around me.

But it's lonely. I wanna dance. But as nice as it is to dance alone, sometimes I wanna dance with someone else.

A little more than a week ago I went to pick up my newly extended visa. That night, I went to see Basement Jaxx with my boss, his wife, and some of their friends. It was nice. The bass was pumping. The room was vibrating. I could feel it.

So I'm trying to keep the music playing as I figure this out.

Better Me

It's nice to have some time with just myself. I keep forgetting that. It's easy to forget.

I've been working late-ish nearly every day since last summer. New projects, projects that just wouldn't end, excitement, tedium. It all melds together into an amalgam of, oh look, it's nine pm again. But I'm not upset by it.

The last few years have been pretty rocky. I've made some poor decisions. I've had a lot of heartbreak. But I know that I am stronger today, more grown up, and more of a me that I can respect. And really, that's been my new year's resolution for the last several years. I like it as a goal for myself. I don't like the idea of putting something out there that I'll feel guilty about if I don't work for it every moment. Being healthy is a great goal, but it can lead to a lot of unnecessary stress and disappointment when you slip up.

And you will slip up. You're human. Or at least I am.

So, while I do enjoy my morning push-ups, I'm not promising myself that I'll do them every day. I get sick. I get late. I get hungover. But if I skip out on something that's so rigid against definitions, I will hate myself for messing it up, and then be less and less motivated to keep going.

But being a better me? I can do that. No one else can, by definition.

I have been pretty good about the push-ups, though. Not gonna lie.