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Artistically speaking, I feel foreshortened.

I feel like an abstraction alluding to my actual appearance. A stretched representation that looks like it has depth. I feel disconnected, disjoint, disparate, disassociated, distraught and distressed. This is, needless to say, a little disconcerting.

It's like that feeling of having been waiting for a phone call for hours and then realizing you knocked the cord out of the wall while cleaning.

Out of touch.

I've floated in and out of so many lives. Not counting family, the only person who's been in my life for a long time is my girlfriend ... and even that hasn't been immune to my pendulum swings. I'm currently in regular contact with ONE other person who knew me before college, and even he I lost contact with for years.

Now I'm signing on to work for a guy I knew in passing some years ago, who's running a company partially owned by a friend of mine.

Probably explains why I end up so far out of context so often. Idiom and reference work better when matched with shared history or experience.

Maybe it's just some latent misgivings about leaving behind the coworkers I've grown accustomed to working with. I will miss the guys, and goodbyes are never easy. I'm also too darn emotional. Maybe I've just got a subconscious nihilistic bent towards interpersonal relationships, and scuttle them once they go sour because my own mind won't let the slip-ups go.

Some days I'd rather have a simple shape.

- Pookah

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January 2011
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