In Order That Someone Will Shut Up About The Damn Tulips

This is my garden. I have: four Roma tomatos, four red bell peppers, one habanero, four jalapenos, one Anaheim chili, one sweet banana pepper, two kinds of basil, one cilantro, one spearmint and one rosemary... all in the front window.

I have been absent from writing for a very long time. The manatee has been silent. So, prodded by (not so) gentle encouragement from my excellent and constant friend, Kim R., I've decided to pick up again. There's been a lot of change since my last post, and many things have also stayed the same.

First of all, I have moved. I have an apartment, a fine huge space with pretty walls and all the amenities that I could wish for... except a yard, to be sure. I'm going to miss watching and photographing my avian friends. I guess I'll have to seek the birds out, since they won't be able (or inclined) to come visit me.

Okay, so that's really the only thing that has changed... but that one thing has had such a huge effect on me that it seems like a lot of things. I guess there are a lot of internal differences caused by the new arrangement. I began really thinking about it last night, and carried it over into this morning: the way that I feel about living alone, and the comforts and dangers that come with it. It is interesting to me that the good and bad feelings that I have happen almost simultaneously; one right on top of the other. Sometimes they even overlap, and I feel sad and content at the same time. That is an odd combination of feelings, I tell you. I think I'll outline the bad things first, then wrap up prettily with the shiny happy stuff. You're welcome.

And now that I really think about it, there's only one elephant in the room. It's lonely here. I am, by nature, a people person. Wait, let's clarify that a little. I am... selectively gregarious. I don't want to be around everyone; in fact I find a large-ish percentage of the humans out there to be fundamentally lacking in admirable qualities and I want nothing at all to do with them. But there are plenty of folks that I think are the bee's knees, and them I like to be around a whole lot... and the ones that I really really like, well... I think with those people I hop from "gregarious" right over into "needy." And there's nobody here but me.

Then there's my dog. Now my mother's dog, I guess. Oh, how I miss my little dog. Seriously, it's ridiculous... just writing about it, I have a knot in my gut and my throat feels tight. I decided that Mom could keep Muzzy living with her, both for her benefit and his, but I hate hate hate the end result as far as my own comfort is concerned. Selfish, I know. But that is why I made the decision to leave Muzzy with my mother; because he really loves to have someone around, and I'm at work a lot. Often more than eight hours at a time. Also, I was (am) trying to ease the feelings of guilt that I have over leaving Mom alone in her house, and I hope that with the dog there she will be a little better able to handle being by herself. So, I think my reasoning is intellectually sound, but I'm crushed. And I've been prowling the regional animal shelter websites and thinking.

There it is. I've written before about solitude and my feelings about it, and it's still the same... but more sharply focused these days. I'm having to put it in a bright spot and take a good look, because it's there, unavoidable, and appears to be there to stay. I may be entirely wrong about this, but I can't get away from my conviction that none of the good things that I gather in life are worth a hot damn unless I can share them with someone... human or animal.

And I need to be careful when I'm feeling this way, because it has been my lifelong habit to medicate the shit out of loneliness (five, five, five for my lonely) either with drugs and alcohol, or food, or even affection.

I don't want to take my friends and loved ones hostage. I don't want to obligate them to fix my sadness.

I don't want to eat myself into false contentment. Yes, I do! No, I don't. YES I DO. Shut up, please. That's a tough one, and the battle is far from over.

And as far as drinking is concerned, I would literally rather die right his minute than go back to the awful place that alcohol and drugs invariably took me. So that's out.

Maybe it's mostly a question of having to be aware that what I'm doing is making important discoveries. My discomfort may be necessary to gain insight. Back to the "holding the tension" thing.

I think I'm losing the thread here. I think it's time to cover the good bits, then touch on weight loss, then I'm outta here. There are pizzas to make.

The good: It's all mine. My things, my art, my plants, my gear all arranged as I see fit. And my apartment is really nice. Also, the responsibilities are mine, and fulfilling them in a timely fashion is incredibly satisfying. I have a great deal of contentment with my new surroundings.

Weight loss... I'll be brief. I'm not always perfect. I sometimes eat crappy food in quantity... far less often than I used to and far too often to keep my weight loss on a perfect track, but here's the hard fact: I weigh 270 pounds, and last September I weighed 375 pounds. So there you go.

I'll try to write more often. But I'm not promising a damn thing.

Peace and joy to you all, and thank you for being there.

Steve "Big Daddy" Hodgson

May the twenty-third, 2010

270 pounds