Honestly.

A topic of relative urgency and importance continues to present itself in various forms, especially in light of my being in Boston at the moment. It's a matter I've attempted to touch upon before; however, given it's complicated nature, I always fell short of ways to articulate my feelings.

My father and I have not been close for several years now. In fact, not only have we been distant, I no longer think we share the same plane of existence. When we do speak, talking to my father involves the same type of simple, declarative sentences and interrogations one might use with an adolescent. Very short "Hello's", comments on the weather, how work is going. There is nothing dynamic about the relationship. No exchange of intellect, no genuine interest is present. When I reach for a topic that will hopefully unite us, the conversation soon starts to revolve around my father and his doings. I have grown tired of pandering to him, and am unsure of why he wants to keep this connection going. I suspect it is because he does not look like a complete failure if he has me in his life in some way.

I have trouble accepting the way things are when I look back and recall such happy days growing up. Memories of my dad tickling me till I couldn't breathe, pulling my toes so that I could hear and feel that delicious cracking, launching me to the other end of the pool. I don't know how to make new memories with him. I don't know how to accept him as he is because I don't agree with the choices he's made. The choices that have lead him astray from his three children, and the family for which he promised to care.

He says he's still the same, but I don't recognize him. I can see him, and my brain can pick him out of a crowd, but my heart can't love him like it used to... I want to be sorry for that, but there is nothing to be done about it. My father made his choices, and so he must live with mine as well. The father I once trusted and honored now survives through me.

Architextualizing.

As you might be able to see, this blog will be under construction for a little while. I am unsure as to what theme or colors I want to incorporate, so the process will be an ongoing one. I realize I still need some work when it comes to demonstrating patience; so, what better way to accomplish that then by practicing slowing down. Baby steps though.

This whole week is an exercise in slowing down, I suppose. I am vacationing in Boston, my home city, after having been away for nearly 3 years. Given how much time has passed, and all that has transpired, I felt the need to start anew and leave this blog behind. However, I have a tendency to toss things by the wayside once they've lost their initial glamour, and I really don't want to indulge in such childish tendencies any longer. So, this blog will stay. Keeping the original title of "anxious musings" feels a bit sedentary, when, in fact, I've been anything but. I'm not sure what else to title it though... I suppose it'll come to me. I'm looking to officially transition out of this "limbo of anxiety", not continue to soak in it.

So far this week has been spent catching up on sleep, soaking up love and attention, and imbibing as much alcohol as I can. It is quite a surreal experience. Forgetting I was no longer in the Golden State, I gushed with excitement at the sight of a New Hampshire or Massachusetts license plate. I began counting all the Dunkin Donuts locations, and promptly gave up upon reaching the number 7 before we'd even left Somerville. Apparently, I also had more of a non-rhotic accent than I'd realized... More to come later.