A period of reflection or thought.

She said:
"Introspection and Action
The first is easy the second comes hard to most. And far too easy for some. Easy like a snake sloughing off it's old skin to let the new one shine. Leaving the old shell behind gets harder with age/time. Connections have become fewer and slightly harder to make. People get comfortable in their niche.
Ignorance is bliss, which is why most people turn a blind eye to the inside. And the fear of change keeps that blind eye shut."

To which he responded:
"Introspection without action is fine as well. Now, if we come to the same conclusions over and over, decide a change must be made, and then promptly uncork a bottle of wine..."

Well isn't that a little bit crazy?

I can not argue that fact.

I also can't argue how much his last post left a lasting urge.  Urge to explain so many left behind?  Urge to look into my own eyes and see me staring back at me?  Did I read far too deep into something?  Was it that one bit of something that cracked a knuckle that had been wound too tight but not too tight to crack yourself?

I know first hand it is rare if at all that anyone who really 'knows' or 'gets' me frequents my silly musings and fueled rants.  I also know that 'Dear Diary' just doesn't cut it cause really those who left feelings flow from pen are letting it out.... it's out there for a prying mother to read.... a nosy boyfriend to question... whatever.  So why not sitting out there for the world to read?  Regardless I am pretty safe, or so I would like to think.  When you commit thought or feeling to a medium other than what is trapped in your own head, you mean for someone to read it.  Whether intentional or not, putting something out there, it will get read.  Damn it's been a bit since I have had a nice long post without pictures or restraint.  It's about fucking time.

That straw was unlikely but that camel's back needed a breaking. 

Things have become stale.

The snake is facing a choice that is difficult.  Does the snake really NEED to slough its skin or does the snake just feel uncomfortable in it's own skin?

I once knew an interesting fellow named Hatch.  And during a long night of partying, while people watching he said, "You change like the seasons.  And I hope when you leave this season you can at least remember me."  I never really thought of myself as a season until it was pointed out.  And I sat back, slightly flabbergasted ... what did he really mean?  Like a season?  And as the early morning hours set in, I had a moment of clarity that not only astounded me but frightened me as well. 

I was alone.  I chose (choose perhaps?) to drift.  I longed for something, yet ran at the same time. 

I likened myself more to a herp than I did to the seasons.  I knew herps, they change as they grow.  Seasons, as far as I could tell were the same during different times.

It's getting a little late in life and though the changes I have made are great.  The skin I have sloughed off has been for the best.  Much alone I find myself.  I have left a lowly, sub-satisfactory self behind.  I am a better person, through the years, than I was.

Why do I find myself feeling annoyed?  Why do I feel the urge to cut contacts and start the next 'season'?  What have I learned from this stage and have I really grown enough to shed skin and start anew again?

Phone calls and texts go unanswered.  Phones, maybe purposefully, lost or broken in an effort to slough off some of the old skin.  Excuses being made about busy this or busy that, allowing a distance to continue to slowly grow.  Exactly when did it all start?  I am noticing it now, looking back, I have been increasing my distance for many months and now starting to realize it.  And then one day, "What ever happened to Susie?"  "I still see her around, we don't really hang out anymore."

What have I learned from this phase in life?  The last cycle a mention was made regarding seasons.  This cycle I can look back and notice, roughly, how long my 'seasons' seem to last.  I guess now that I know it's there I can see it.

Things become stale, stifled, cramped.  And I have been feeling the change coming on, I see the little signs of removing myself from one foothold and cramming my toes into the next crack in the mountain.  In an effort to move up?  Not necessarily, in an effort to attain something new, more than likely.  It's getting harder.  No matter the season, the era, the epoch, the shedding of skin.  I should count myself lucky that anyone has entertained my company.  Or do I have it all wrong.  I may have cut myself short.

Baggage.

With each iteration of myself, with each stage, step, growth, I hang on to few things.  Or maybe they hang on to me?  I feel taxed trying to hang on to the few good things before moving on to the next stage.  But maybe that's a part of growing up.  Maybe you have to work hard to keep the positive around you while sloughing off things that are negative or stagnant.  At this stage it seems harder to grow from external stimuli, at this stage most have found their niche.  At this stage external stimuli either has too much life experience for me to glean relevant data or not enough life experience.

My skin itches again.
I ask myself why the urge?
Not for the need to better my life or situation.
Is there a sloughing of the soul as there is with a snake shedding their skin?
No.  It's something else.  It may very well be fear.

I have the power in my hands to shape a drop in the bucket.
To shape a mind; a human child.
Is this where the urgency for change comes?
Never did I want to play in the gene pool.  I almost pity the race for not providing a plus to this degenerate, decaying world.  But to what end?  Another tortured mind, singing the same song that parents hate their children to sing, "I hate kids.  I am not making any."  I am afraid.  Afraid of having the power to mold.

These thoughts are where I go, where I wander in my mind. 
I thought I had it all planned out.  I thought I had it mostly figured out.  My problem is I thought and failed to calculate for the wild card.  Had the wild card not been human I may have had an abrupt change and these musings would not be happening.  And now with something as precarious as a life at hand; change.  The changes I am used to involved #1, no collateral damage, no aftermath, just #1.  These things are usually a sign to exit stage left, a sign to wander.  Wander in life as I tend to wander in my mind.

Power.
"What it lies in our power to do, it lies in our power not to do." - Aristotle
I also heard power corrupts but then again who is asking?  It has never been a hard task to move from one self to a newer self.  The power I will need is to stay myself and still grow.  Maybe my insanity, my bottle of wine, my crutch, is my constant urge to slough off the old and bring on the new.  Maybe this is the time for introspection without action.  Maybe it's time to aide in passing on the torch to the next generation.  Maybe it's time that I stop resisting so much and just do.  Aide in shaping a young mind.  Aide in providing proper training and etiquette.  Aide in arming a youth with the tools to become an adult that isn't a date rape douche bag in a popped collar polo.  Maybe I am setting my expectations too high but better to set expectations than not have any at all.

And yet I am still afraid. 
And I still have the urge.

*Thanks Billy for inadvertently posting something that struck a personal chord.

And thanks Tom for saving my draft when I decided to rage quit a perfectly good blog post.

And Melissa for the hugs and worry.  Sorry to have come off like a loon in the draft version.