The Universe was owed a life, so I gave it the first twenty-five years of mine. It only seemed fair. When a daredevil defies the odds, a Furie is bested. It only seemed fair. When a beast recoils just before the trap snaps shut, the Odds are defied. It only seemed fair. Fourteen years ago I took a ride that should have claimed me, but the Universe wasn’t paying attention.

I don’t believe in Providence, or Destiny, but I do believe in Chance. The opportunity to do better, to improve, to make the most of it. Like a lot of chances, I hadn’t asked for it, nor did I expect it. But it was given to me all the same.

So when I climbed out of that car, climbed out of myself, and climbed out of whatever sort of husk had set slowly over me during my first quarter-century, I looked the Universe in its Third Eye. We spoke nothing, but exchanged something, and that was the first twenty-five years of my life.

It only seemed fair.

This summer though, I’ve gone looking. Around the corners. Down the halls. Behind the aisles. Looking for those first twenty-five years of my life.

They were there. Right there. Just waiting for me.

The lie I had told myself was that I had given the Universe the first twenty-five years of my life, but the truth really was that I didn’t want them anymore. Maybe it’s necessary to lie to yourself every once in a while. When you’re climbing out of cars, when you’re climbing out of yourselves, when you’re climbing out of husks. Clean starts don’t exist, but maybe sometimes you need to believe in them just to put your first foot forward. But that doesn’t amputate the angst, it just punts it. My first twenty-five years weren’t sacrificed, they were stabled, tabled, hidden for a while.

This summer though, I’ve gone looking. Rummaging. Pulling out and examining those first twenty-five years.

They were there. Right there. Just waiting for me.

What’s nostalgia when it’s dread?

What’s nostalgia when you’re not looking back because it feels good, but because it hurts?

Sometimes maybe lies are necessary, and definitely sometimes maybe hurt is good for the soul. Not the sort of ruinous hurt that lays one down, but the sort of healing hurt that comes from acknowledging who you were and finding peace with it. It’s easy to say you Contain Multitudes when you’re just trying to pretend you’re complicated and unique. It’s difficult to say you Contain Multitudes when you’re ashamed of the first twenty-five years of your life. A burdensome, non-productive shame. Though, is shame ever really a productive emotion? Probably not.

This summer though, I’ve gone looking. I’ve found them. The first twenty-five years of my life.

They were there. Right there. Just waiting for me.

What does it mean to acknowledge? What does it mean to accept? What’s the difference between the two?

Not sure, unclear, and I have no idea.

But what I have found this summer is as I’ve sifted through the wreckage, the bartering with the Cosmos, the climbing, the cars, the husks, the shame, the liminal states, the regretful behavior, the endless car rides, the sleepless nights, the countless different medications, the unpredictability as a friend-boyfriend-brother-son-coworker, is that, as they say, the Way Out Is Through.

I thought the Universe was owed a life, so I thought I’d give it the first twenty-five years of mine. It declined. The rest has been up to me.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

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Living through a more quiet summer than usual. When given the opportunity to interview for a summer position I had held for ten years, I decided that my interview would consist of a polite “no thank you” and an existential middle finger or two. That’s life, baby. Which has led me to a sort of ponderous, mostly relaxing summer as a Full Time Minder for my wife, a role I attack with aplomb and competence.

At the same time, the summer has also been laced with strife and difficulty. My wife’s family on her Mom’s side seems to suffer one loss after another. I’m not saying their family farm was built on cursed colonized land (I mean, it was colonized, all of this is) but the two of us joke about that it was. To bare my soul is to admit that I’m at the perpetual intersection of trying to figure out how to console my wife, and also throwing a pity-party for myself. She grieves on a consistent level that can only be the byproduct of an indifferent Universe. However, at a certain point my selfish ass just wants quality time with my her. How does one reconcile the desire to stamp their feet petulantly with an equally meaningful desire to be a good spouse?

I’ll hang up and take the answer off the air.

Seriously though, I don’t know! But, I’ve finally got hooked up with a therapist and I’m eager to till my fucking emotional land.

But here I am.

I haven’t written much lately, as evidenced by the fucking four month silence here. I miss writing, expressing myself, and connecting with others. I’m held back by this ingrained idea in my head that frankly I don’t have much to say and even if I did no one really gives a fuck and even more dangerous is that I don’t blame them. Look at that fucking trifecta.

But here I am.

A more quiet summer, a more pensive CaffPow. Such is the state of things. Nonetheless, such a situation does not foreswear me from enjoying the various arts and farts. This is what I’m enjoying lately.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

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Hard not to feel nostalgic, when the Planet is shuddered, and there’s nowhere to go, right? Also, hard not to feel nostalgic when I’m currently dong-deep in Final Fantasy 7 and classic horror movies, right? Anyways, I’m feel nostalgic as fuck, and old to boot. Nothing gets you thinking of the past like salivating over the remake of your favorite game of all time, and feeling the gravel in your elbows shift every time you try to do a tricep press.

Anyhoo, enough about my lachrymal, romanticized peering into my past! I’m stoked to spend the present with you folks, right here! In the latest edition of Monday Morning Commute! You know, the weekly gathering where we, uh, gather, and share what we’re up to!

I’ll go first, but lord, oh lord, I hope you’ll join me in the comments section!

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