33.1, A New Year

It always struck me as odd that we [as a collective culture and civilization] that we make new year resolutions on the first of the year.  Sure, it symbolizes commencement–  but for me, it’s nearly 6 months off from the start of my year!

Another Type of New Years Day

So yes, for me this is the start of a new year and I need to start.  Struggling with the most basic things and fundamental questions have left me with what? I didn’t find answers or clues or profound things except the knowledge that I’m alone in this journey, that I’m a nomad by any respectable measure of the word and in the sea of noise out here on the internet – without a voice.

I always intended of this blog to be a great many things and more often than not it’s nothing.  I don’t post, I don’t update, I don’t share. I know why, I have always known why.

Me.

And so what?  What do I have worth anything to the world?  On any given day, I recieve about 40 pieces of mail.  20 are notifications of this that and the next thing.  10 are news letters that I honestly never read but keep to read later.  5 are things to do.  3 are typically bills.

And the last two emails?  Viruses that set of an anxiety attack and an hour of antivirus scans.

In Cyberspace, No One Cares about your Tumblr

What’s missing is everything else.  Humanity.   I ask if it exists, if I’m somehow exempt or ignored or not part of the human condition?

But I know this answer too, you already guessed it if you are even here reading this.   You too, spam bot, I see you there lurking near the comments box!

Seriously, I doubt anyone will ever see this posts — or any other of my posts.  That’s the infuriating part of my journey to make a better person because part of me looks in the mirror and tells me that there’s no point to any of this.  No one is out there, no one is looking to you for advice or opinions.  No one cares what I ate last week, or my review of a diner across town, or my work out routine or what’s on my playlist.  All the evidence I have about me life points to one inescapable fact.

My journey isn’t worth anything to anyone.

And there it is again.

When I struggle and fight and rage back at myself and someone does add comments, it’s never advice I sorely need or assurance that I am moving the right way–  It’s the reminder that what I’m going through means nothing because someone else has it worse or someone else made it or someone else did x,y,and z.

That doesn’t help.  I don’t want to feel worse because I should feel worse because my journey isn’t someone else’s.

The Thing About This Journey

It’s mine.

And its me taking it.

And I have to do it alone.