This time, there is no catalyst, so I wonder if it's a genuine coming-of-age thing. It's a scary prospect for this to happen without catalyst at 25. Usually, people wait until at least 30, or until a mid-life crisis in which they buy sports cars and other unreasonable things with their stockpiled wealth.

But what good is comparison with norms with this is certainly an individual phenomenon.

See, the thing is this: in a large part of my life, I feel absolutely fulfilled. I have a wonderful wife whom I love more than I've loved any other thing/person/place. I want to spend more time with her than anyone else on the planet. I've also carved out for myself an enviable niche. I have a comfortable home with my wife in a city I enjoy tremendously. Between us, we make enough money that we don't generally miss any bills or go hungry. I work a job that I love so much that it usually doesn't even feel like a job; in fact, sometimes I feel guilty enough about this that I subconsciously look for a crappy second job because surely I can't be pulling my weight. I've surrounded myself with a wonderful collection of animals who I truly do enjoy caring for and enriching the lives of, and who end up being surrogate children. I read constantly and have a very fulfilling intellectual life even outside of my job.

At the same time, though, things feel empty. I'm guessing the purpose of this kind of mindset is that I should take inventory and look for general deficiencies. And that's what I guess I'll do, because I'm pretty sure there are a couple causes in this list. Funny thing is, it makes me feel like I'm playing The Sims, and I'm worried about the welfare of my simulated alter ego.

For one thing, my social life is non-existent in many ways. In terms of guaranteed daily (or weekly) contact, Amy is the end-all, be-all. And as much as she does for me in this department (and I for her) we both have lately noticed that this social deficiency is affecting us. We do have a handful of local friends who we care about and enjoy, but everyone (including us) is too busy to enjoy each other. At work, I always strive to keep my work lives and personal lives entirely separate, so the possibility of making true-to-life friends there is next to nil. I don't remember the reason I made this policy, but it is probably easier for keeping work hassle-free.

I don't know how to fix this. Amy has taken up the activity of message-boarding on like five different forums, and that seems to work for her pretty well. So well, in fact, that when I questioned the amount of time she spent on those things she was quite defensive (and in retrospect, understandably so). I can't stand being on message boards because they're a place where everyone is right and too anonymous to actually care about making a cogent argument, and Wikipedia is an authorative source.

But I am ignoring the elephant in the room, which is my terrible problem with being social. Twenty years ago, someone would have said that I was just shy, but today it's much more than that, and justifiably so. I have many problems with social anxiety. I could shrink my head and say that it's probably a relic of being a fat kid in a small school for so many years, but that's pointless. The point is that meeting new people for me is tremendously difficult, and trusting them with anything close to intimacy is impossible. Beyond this, keeping friends is also difficult because I occasionally shrink into a hole and disappear for six months or more. Sure, blame the illness... I'm sure this has nothing to do with my generally abrasive personality.

Today, I have no one in my day-to-day life that I've known for more than three years and a couple months. Rikki, our psychotic and racist collie mix, is the day-to-day being who's been in my life the longest. Geography plays a big role here, because I moved away from many people (who I had mostly alienated anyway) and many people have also moved away from me. But an unspeakable number were alienated by either my occasional disappearing act or by my offensive direct action.

So, what have I done? I blog, still. Speaking to an audience of more than one is oddly easier to share more personal things than to a single person. I occasionally message people via myspace or facebook, still hiding behind the public nature of these messages. I haven't called anyone besides my parents or Amy for strictly social purposes in more than a year, because the telephone terrifies me to no end.

I guess intimacy is my largest fear, but my biggest desire. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. I want to love people but find myself completely unable to do so, with a few exceptions. I want to have close friends for whom I would do anything, but find myself unwilling to trust in the first place.

Outside of (but connected to) the social realm are other deficiencies that I've noticed. I don't take care of my physical self. Sure, I've become a vegetarian which is a far better diet than I've ever eaten. I don't drink or do drugs, and only occasionally smoke a cigar. But only occasionally is a description I could use for a couple other things: shower, exercise, brush my hair, shave. Simple things that could improve a lot.

Amy's been talking about pursuing a rigorous exercise agenda together. I think if we get started, then she'll be more than strong enough to keep us going. I mean, she's done it with the pseudo-vegan-vegetarian thing. I put an extra television (what a society we live in that televisions are extra!) in the basement that has cable, and there are a couple of exercise bikes down there. We're planning to buy a basic weight bench with financial aid, which will allow us to do some simple weight-training. I want to clean the basement more and make it feel nicer before we get started on using that area to work out. Once we get started, we'll keep going. I know it. It's just getting started. And exercising will make me shower more, because I'll be gross, which will in turn make me wash and brush my hair. It's only a week from being dirty-hippy dreadlocks, I think. If winter wasn't setting in, I'd say it was finally time for a dramatic and drastic haircut.

I don't want to be cold.

The other thing that I know I am deficient in is caring for my spiritual self. Amy goes to a church that I simply cannot attend. Religion is not something I'm willing to bullshit about, and attending a church that doesn't work for me is certainly bullshitting people, if not out-and-out lying. If part of the whole purpose of a church body is the social aspect, how can I join that miniature society on false pretenses? I am not saying that her church is not a valid way, it's just not my way. See, I'm one of those weirdos who think there is more than one valid path to spiritual well-being, which immediately puts me at odds with the philosophy on which this brand of church is founded. At the same time, I think her church is certainly a valid way to spiritual well-being, but it's not a path I can travel. If the main point of a church service is to worship and to devote oneself to God, then this church body does not allow me to do this. The practices of the church with which I do not agree end up being too distracting, and I end up looking for ways to challenge or subvert those practices in my head when I should be thinking about other more important things. And how can I do something with these people as intimate as worship when I'm thinking about fucking up the practices which they're following? It just doesn't work.

So, what to do? I don't know. I've thought of exploring other churches, but I know this will be fruitless. See, the other part of my religious problem is that I need the support of those closest to me (simply going with me is enough) because I won't face a social situation in a sea of strangers alone. And that is inappropriate to ask of Amy, because she has found her path and her place, and it's not reasonable to ask her to give that up for some random and unrealized ideas I've got floating around in my head. The other problem is one of being genuine. If worship in a group is the intimate I think it should be, how genuine is it to join up with a group, knowing that I will soon be leaving that group for another distant place? Then at the same time, joining a church with people I could share the intimate experience of worship with could solve many of my social problems by providing a pool of potential friends in a more-comfortable setting, putting me at ease enough to strike up conversation.

Perhaps a lot of my problems revolve around the temporary nature of our lives right now. While we are situated in a favorable place with plenty of resources and comfort, this has been a temporary arrangement from day one. As much as I really have become attached to my new home, we will only live in Akron for approximately 20 more months. The only possibility that this will become our permanent home is if the University of Akron suddenly needs a geographer with my areas of interest, which is incredibly unlikely considering the focus of their department.

All foundations we lay here will be uprooted soon, and that's scary. It's also frustrating, but it's a reality with which we have to cope.

I just haven't figured out how to do it yet.