So, first off, I forgot to note before that the author of the poem below, the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, is T.S. Eliot. It would be horrible if someone who hasn't heard of the poem thought that I was claiming authorship to it! I could write that well in my dreams!
Anyway, I have enjoyed the poem for a long time. The older I get, the more I can see the frustration that the main character experiences, and identify with it. The sense of his being lovelorn appeals to me. I am a washout when it comes to relationships, and I think that most of it is my shyness, my lack of initiative (especially in a physical sense), and my self consciousness and anxiety.
Like Prufrock, I'm overwhelmed by a sense of age (having just passed my thirtieth birthday) and depression about my place in life.
A stifling society that encourages alienation from our lives, as in the poem, certainly does not help!
I hope that, if the person whom I was recently dating reads this, she doesn't think that this is some kind of attack on her, or an implication that she should feel bad. I was pretty sad when I first posted it, modified the introduction a bit later when I was feeling a bit better.
I am going to change some of these behaviours.
Anyway, in other events, I've been distributing resumes to find a temporary job, until either Statscan gets me back to full time hours or until I find a decent job that I can go to full time. I went for a free massage with my friend's wife today -- she's going to massage school, and is looking for practice. Things around the anarchist bookfair are going well. Next year's should be excellent. Kirsten has designed some really wonderful bookmarks for Black Books (my side enterprise). I'm going to a poetry reading with someone tomorrow.