I have written previously about what the heck it is I think I’m doing here with this blog, proffering the opinion that a lot of this is simply for my own, much-needed therapy. And, just as importantly, I write because writing is what I do; being a writer is who I am. I write because it provides an outlet for thoughts and emotions I can’t conveniently put anyplace else. And this particular venue gives me a place to share, should anyone self-select into my online world.

Early on in my blogging days, as I was engaged in other self-reflection about these literary efforts, I explored the topic of blogger ethics, recognizing the potential for harming others with my words. You may recall that I clearly expressed the intent to avoid embarrassing, attacking, angering or hurting anyone of you out there. And although I have not specifically mentioned this, naturally my aim is to avoid harming myself as well.

Not that my efforts have met with everyone’s approval. There have been the occasional criticisms of my work, the most obvious and impactful of which was the feedback last spring, from a college president no less, that “ I might want to re-think my decision to discuss my job-search activities” on these pages. That unsolicited opinion of my writing really made me take stock. However, after a careful and deliberate examination of my intentions, as well as a thorough re-reading of the actual words I had published, I decided to discard that particular piece of advice and I re-published some posts I had temporarily taken down (while in a highly-reactive, semi-panicky mode).

Then, there’s the occasional bits of praise that come my way, namely the quite-recent observation that

There is a lot of humor in your blog. I hope you can see it. Is it not supposed to be funny? …Thanks for sharing all of your hopes and fears with the entire world … Your world view is so prickly (ala Mark Twain)…

Of course, any comparison of my writing with Mark Twain’s is really quite a stretch, but I appreciate this person’s comments nonetheless!

Finally, just this week, another person from my everyday world offered up some observations about this blog. She was clearly concerned that being so public about my life put me in harm’s way…in one way or another. After a long conversation about this, she subsequently wrote a clarifying email, stating quite unequivocally that, “ it’s the possible ramifications for you that I am concerned about.”

I found the clash of values between the two of us quite intriguing. She expressed a high need for privacy, even secrecy, in the normal living of life. Further, she articulated a distrust of others, fearing hidden agendas. I, on the other hand, expressed a strong preference for transparency and the need for emotional risk-taking.

In a short email back to her I said,

… my intention is: to not have hidden agendas; to live openly, honestly and authentically; to take risks; to live without fear. These are my values. Whatever consequences I pay for them, I shall pay…

Now, as I conclude this brief entry, I want to say that I recognize not everyone is going to have the same interpretation of my words. What one person takes as a totally depressing essay, another person might tell me, “Jim, that was hilarious!” (And, in fact, this has actually happened.)

In invite you to keep reading. Or not. It’s entirely up to you.

If my up-close-and-personal observations and disclosures turn out to be a bit much, I can only advise: caveat lector.

Let the reader beware.

A couple of months ago I wrote about the one “day off” I had during the whole change-your-life kinda summer that 2007 provided me. On that day (June 30), in Eugene, I wandered about Saturday Market and ended up at the stage area listening to a local musician sing the entire Beatles Abbey Road album from start to finish…while accompanying himself on the ukulele!

What a tremendous treat that was!

And, what a totally Eugene, at-home-like experience that turned out to be.

Given my subsequent move to a new and totally unfamiliar part of the world, I have been asking myself: when am I ever going to be able to replicate that kind of feeling again? Will I ever be “at home” again? And also: when will I ever hear live Beatles music again?!

Well, as it turns out, I didn’t have that long to wait. (At least for the answer to that last question…)

Last Sunday, the little hippie-dippie Marin County town of Fairfax held its second annual Town-Wide Picnic at the local ball field. Now, I didn’t really plan to attend. In fact, I was absolutely oblivious to the fact that this thing was happening at all until, on a whim, I decided to visit Fairfax that afternoon simply to check out a nearby place with a Eugene-like (read: “liberal” or “tie-dye”) kind of reputation.

As I was walking around, I noticed posters in a couple of windows advertising the event (that was supposed to be happening at that very moment) and, at first, all I could think of was “where’s the ball field?” Well, given that this is an extremely tiny place, it didn’t take long to find out. (I simply followed the foot traffic!) Of course, I was initially a little reluctant to join in the festivities, given that it’s a very small town and I’d be gate-crashing their party. But the thing that helped me overcome my hesitancy was the Beatles music coming from the stage. A group called “The Liddypudlians” was up there churning out some great stuff!

The band was 26 members strong…yes, I needed to count them! There were several (rotating) lead vocalists, lead and rhythm guitars, drums, a chorus -- as well as horn, string, and woodwind sections. This was an orchestra that reproduced Beatles songs quite faithfully -- meticulously consistent with any studio-produced Beatles-album track.

I sat on the lawn, soaked up the sun, and enjoyed three sets of live Beatles tunes for just over three hours. I loved this group!

For a little while there, I almost felt like I was home.

I sometimes wonder: what if?

What if I had been born with more imagination, talent, artistic ability or intellectual capacity than was granted to me? What if I’d grown up to have more wisdom than is mine?

What if I had more depth as a human being?

What if I hadn’t been born working-class in the Midwest but rather to wealth in mid-town Manhattan? Or to college professors in Berkeley?

What if I’d not been so slight in stature that I was typically the last kid picked for a team? What if I were tall and strong, with perfect teeth and an infectious, extraverted personality? What if I’d had charismatic good looks in this life?

What if I had been able to write the Great American Novel or been able to produce photographic art rivaling Ansel Adams? Or Annie Leibovitz?

What if I’d lived one of the great love stories? How would my life be different if I’d found my soulmate early in life and had a loving, devoted partner by my side through all my struggles?

What if I’d not had to cope with chronic pain for most of my life?

What would my life be like today if even one of these things had been different?

These are thoughts I have on occasion. Typically, I’ll go down this path when I’m feeling a little sorry for myself or things are just generally not going well. That’s not really the case at this moment, though, because what currently brings on such mental meanderings is that I’m wondering how it is that I ended up here. After 37 years an Oregonian, here I am, all of a sudden, a Californian.

I guess the most terrible thing that’s going on right now is that I’m missing “home.”

I was on the phone yesterday with a friend who was, herself, 19 years an Oregonian — and has just moved to Pennsylvania to take on a new job. At the other end of the line I heard her teenage daughter come into the room and ask who she was talking to, to which she replied, “my friend Jim, in California.”

Jim. In California.

How weird to hear those words.

How could this possibly be?

Earlier this year I was a finalist for a position that would have landed me in one of my favorite little college towns on the planet: Corvallis, Oregon. From the moment I discovered the announcement, I pictured myself there, living back in Corvallis: my home for a full twenty years (1970-90).

What if I’d gotten that job?

I guess in a parallel universe, I wowed them at the interview and ended up there. But in this version of reality, I experienced another outcome: needing to move on from the rejection and continue with the interviews. I subsequently traveled to places like Burlington, Vermont; Palm Desert, California; Vancouver, Washington; and Kentfield, California…ending up with the job offer that landed me in my current location.

So here I am: now a Bay Area Golden Stater…wondering what life has in store for me in this place…and having an ache in my heart for a land I call home.

Things I’m wondering about…

• Why is it two specific blog entries have been obscenely popular with you out there in recent times? For example, in the past 7 days alone there have been 1,431 Google searches that have led ya’ll to an entry from last February entitled “March on the Pentagon.” And, coming in second is another piece with an entirely different kind of political slant; an entry from November 2006 called “A New Season” has received 238 looks in the past week. What can this possibly be about? (All this activity is a little intimidating!)
• Why is it that the statistics generated by SquareSpace for my blog are WAY WAY DIFFERENT from the Sitemeter stats reflected in the counter over there in the right-hand column? They are not even close to each other! Most of the hits recorded by SquareSpace are not counted by Sitemeter, and some of those by Sitemeter are not captured by SquareSpace. What is going on here?
• What’s behind the green door?!
• And, finally, I seem to have picked up a new reader in Malaysia. Whoever you are, you’re the furthest-away regular I have. Thanks for finding me!

So: here I am, all moved in and headed in the direction of being “settled.” I’m almost two months into the new job, and I’m generally finding my way around Marin County better and better all the time.

I’ve actually had a little time here and there over these last two weekends to see that leisure time is once again an occasional possibility. I’ve polished off a couple of novels sitting outside in my new lounge chair — so it appears that the stressful overload of moving and totally changing my life is about to be a thing of the past. (That is to say, things will now likely settle into more manageable and normal levels of work and health-related stress.)

However, as the perpetual adrenaline rush associated with these last few months of frenzied activity goes away, I’m recognizing a feeling of being a little on edge. Actually, what I’m experiencing is a renewed sense of emptiness. For here I am, in a new state, in a new town, in a new job: completely alone.

The silence is eerie. The phone keeps not ringing. The space once occupied by best-friend Katrina is presently a void. Her unique ring tone goes unused and unheard. And, the presence of unstructured time allows for old and familiar emotions to creep in. Feelings of loss and sadness are now my constant companions.

Still, the (ten-year-old) question remains: is she gone forever this time?

Round and round she goes, where she stops, nobody knows…

Soundtrack Suggestion

Unrequited love’s a bore, yeah,
And I’ve got it pretty bad.
But for someone you adore,
It’s a pleasure to be sad.

Like a straying baby lamb
With no mama and no papa,
I’m so unhappy, yeah…

But oh so glad.

(“ Glad To Be Unhappy ” – Mamas and the Papas)