Averland

maybe it’s the incessant ads.  the bleak impersonal format.  the promise of making money for writing.  i feel stuck in a machine, and my good intentions are shadowed by the formalities of this commercial site.sorry for the confusion.  thanks for the patience.  i’m returning home, to the real Averland (www.averland.blogspot.com) .  come join me… 

walking through the city, i am occasionally struck with a moment of utter anxiety.  this occurs whenever i spot a stranger that, upon a quick glance, appears to be a face from the past.  in particular, a face i would rather never face.  an old friend or acquaintance that, due to some nefarious incident, is no longer in my life.  i imagine everybody shares similar broken relationships, where a single dishonest experience will cleave an otherwise bound duo. although i would consider myself a rather easy-going and social being, i seem unable to transcend some strained failings from previous connections.  whether it be romantic, economic, or circumstantial, there are factors which affect friendships, leading to fallings-out.  thus, estrangements cause awkward encounters.  my heart catapults to my throat when one of these ghosts suddenly appears before me.  usually, in order to steer clear, my body automatically swivels on my heels, and i quickly pace the opposite direction, heart racing.  it seems childish, indeed a sign of weakness, yet avoidance serves more purpose than certain emotional turmoil.

personal opinions are thrust across every aspect of the internet.  obviously, the nature of a cyber public forum is to assert one’s thoughts and ideas.  often without any filter or censorship, anybody with access to the web can offer their perspective.  if you’re in the mood for a good mature debate, you can seek an innumerable amount of sites that host dialogue between strangers.  other times, when you’re merely checking the updates of your friends on an online social network, it’s their opinions with which you’re forced to contend.  one can often ignore the petty discussions of pop stars’ private lives or reality television, but when political and religious issues are bandied as frequent as rockets and bombs, it’s hard not to become involved.  i don’t intend to add to the fire; i won’t attempt to persuade or convince anyone of anything.  there are thousands of impassioned voices crying for an audience online, speaking for those that can’t be heard above the din of war.  viewing friends’ daily postings with links to various news sources and intellectual thinkers and historians, i notice the divide between my contacts.  it seems impossible to be objective; much like the conflict itself, everyone squarely falls on one side of the fence or the other.  in the end, where most territorial disputes are able to resolve with a semblance of fairness and closure, this quagmire of deep-seated distrust appears eternally confrontational.  i miss the days when Team Jen Vs. Team Angela was the hot button issue. 

the resolution was already in place:  trim the bulk, fine tune the form, chisel the physique.  oh, and if possible, eliminate the inevitable audible crack and grunt when i kneel.  i imagined this could all be achieved through diet and calisthenics, but television commercials are reminding me that resistance through machinery is what i can’t resist.  while trying to escape within the boob tube’s mindless fare, i’m vaulted back to reality with ads for the bowflex and weight watchers, inundated with images of chipper spandex-clad hardbodies hawking pricey necessities for fitness.  as soon as i determine which route to pursue, i will have a work-out schedule and dietary plan.  in the meantime, i will continue my daily exercise of cyber surfing, until i can no longer reach the keyboard under my gut.

after all the hoopla of the holiday season, where the festivities and feasts feel like a lifetime of social eating, i’m ready to relax in the relative downtime of late december.  then, sneaking up like a surprise party after a bar mitzvah bash, new years eve demands my attention.  normally,  the overwhelming pressure to celebrate the incoming year on a grand scale led to stress and disappointment.  scrambling to secure friends’ schedules was akin to grasping at grasshoppers in flight.  the important people would be called first, to determine their availability.  until a free friend was found, i would work through my list of cell phone contacts.  some years, plans would be made with my sixth best option:  acquaintances with whom i never communicate, but who would offer a familiar face with whom to warble auld lang syne.  it’s as if i was settling on empty companionship simply to avoid solitary status. this year, the approach was different:  with a fiancee and a calm attitude, i headed to the most congested congregation of revelers:  city hall.  although i was surrounded by fun-loving party people, many taking swigs from bottles and slipping on snowbanks, i was perfectly content in the love bubble.  the fireworks illuminated our embrace when the witching hour proclaimed the new year, as the pressure to celebrate melted away forever.