schweblog

I’ve started up my second-to-last semester of college without a hitch. The classes I selected–most of which were at my discretion, since I’m practically finished with my major–have proven themselves to be pretty good choices. I’m finally hitting that “sweet spot” academically where I can really grapple with the ideas given to me and challege them–and the professor–when I see some inconsistencies. I’m realizing that I’ve always been capable of understanding intricate arguments, but my ability to articulate the complications is what needed work.

As a function of spending more time in a college classroom, I’m also finding myself around my peers a lot more often. I’m starting to realize that I have a very difficult time relating to people my age. I can’t really explain why–it might by the technology gap (growing up on a farm kept me largely sheltered from the latest and greatest technology…I still don’t text message and didn’t own a cell phone until a year and a half ago). It also might be the way I approach relationships in general, valuing loyalty and presence more than compatibility or charisma.

Regardless of the reasons, a profound sense of loneliness has set in which compounds itself as I sit at a table and discuss challenging philosophical concepts or day-to-day occurrences over lunch. I don’t feel understood or related to very often. While some of my close friends (most of them significantly older) have attributed this to my heady approach to life–one in which I often tend to analyze, re-analyze, and then analyze some more–I’m not so sure that this is it. I do tend to think about mundane things a little bit more than your average person, but I still ground myself.

The question is not whether I ground myself enough, I think, but whether I ground myself at the right time. Lately, I’ve been in a funk where the only times I feel really connected with people are when I’m either drunk or having sex. When I’m drunk, the details of our interactions are usually fuzzy and, thusly, fairly value-less. When I’m having sex, it’s rarely that good and I’ve started to recede from experience itself at this point, too, conversing with myself in my head about the intricacies of the act itself rather than just sitting/laying/standing there and appreciating the act itself. The catch is, trying to ground myself and relate to someone outside of these activities has proven itself nearly impossible.

In short, I’m in a funk. I don’t consider myself to be anti-social: I enjoy–crave–significant connectivity with someone, where we can have fulfilling conversation, “play”, or sex where I can be there, in the moment, soaking up every detail and just enjoying it for the sake of itself. Yesterday, I had a revelation of sorts, though. Sitting in my Philosophy and Lit class as things wrapped up for the day, an attractive older woman (in her mid-40s, I’d guess) approached me, introduced herself, and asked for clarification of a point that I had been trying to make the entire class period to no avail. After a brief explanation, she understood. I understood that she understood. We smiled. This was good.

My peer group can go to hell.