I’ve long been different. This whole blog is testament to that.
But one thing that’s kind of funky about me is that I’m usually afraid of being alone—even though I’m rather good at it.
That’s to say, I’m perfectly content to stay home and not go out sometimes because I like the bit of solitude, especially on a non-freezing evening. I can start out the night with one of my kites, getting it up in the sky before dusk. I did that tonight, in fact, getting out just before the sun went down. The wind was like 2 or 3 mph, and my trusty 4.5′ delta kite just went right up. I ultimately got it out to about 700 feet or so.
Then I would switch over to astronomy once it got too dark to fly. I’ve forgotten a lot of the sky now, but I used to know everything from the Summer Triangle straight through Pegasus pretty much by heart.
Throughout all of this, I’d have my trusty shortwave radio out with me. I’d get broadcasts from Canada, New Zealand, Spain, the Netherlands, Austria, and a bunch of others. It was a very different take on the world, and I felt better for it. It was like my own little thing.
It’s not easy to have these hobbies in your late teens and 20s, though. It’s not usually what your friends are doing. I once asked a girl out and she turned me down flat. She said I talked like I was 40. I was 15.
It’s times like this when I know I’m different from most people. I’m fortunate to have (and have had) loves in my life who were willing to pursue me just a little bit. I tend to be shy. I don’t put myself out there that far. And I like having someone who supports our time together and our time apart.
The feeling I can’t shake, however, is one that seems very real to what life actually is—that I can’t quite capture it all. That I can’t fly every kite, that I can’t hear every one of what’s left of the shortwave broadcasters (thanks, internet), and that I can’t memorize everything about every star I see. I chase these things, get as much as I can.
I’m trying to do that with life, too. I just do it in my own way sometimes.