Where is Dr. Phil when I need him?

Okay, I realize that this blog is getting morbid. I realize that I’ve been spending an unconscionable amount of time gazing at my navel and reporting back about my findings, most of which are extremely tiresome. I also realize that my porno booby pic attracted exactly two male readers who will most certainly stop reading this blog when they understand that things have taken a turn for the worse in the tiresome navel-gazing department. Finally, I realize that much of this tiresome navel—gazing is fueled by my sudden discovery of Oprah magazine, which has become an embarrassing habit that reinforces my secret weakness for self-help mumbo jumbo and navel-gazing. Also, it reinforces my firmly held belief that Dr. Phil is a sadistic, misanthropic motherfucker.

But I’m going to press on anyway, because dammit, this blog is about “fixation, fascination and unhealthy infatuation.” I’m not really sure what that means, mind you, but I think that it gives me carte blanche to act like a self-indulgent weenie.

I’ve been looking at these two photographs quite a lot lately. Harar, a city in eastern Ethiopia, is a city of doors – doors painted with such abandon that it took my breath away. When I returned to New York from my travels in Ethiopia, I realized that I had taken at least 50 photographs of the doors – doors shut, doors half open, doors half closed.

I’ve been wondering about these doors. There is something at once exciting and daunting about a door slightly ajar. While one feels an irresistible pull to enter, there is also that dangerous twinge of doubt that makes one ask, What am I hoping to discover? Will it what I find make me happy or miserable? Do I belong behind this door?

I’ve been feeling for a long time that my life is a door slightly ajar. I’m paralyzed at the threshold, agonizing about whether or not I should cross it or turn heel and run. In the three weeks that I’ve been back from my trip, I feel this more acutely. Dermonster, Fauxhawk and Blue Eyes – these men who mean so much to me, who captivate and challenge me - have suddenly emerged and reemerged. They present me with tantalizingly brief glimpses of what’s behind the door, but I’m confused about whether the door is opening or closing. All of a sudden, I'm standing on the threshold about to make a leap, and it feels as though there is no going back, whatever decision I make. And because I have so many unanswered questions about what life would be like if I entered, all I can think to do is slam it shut once and for all so I can be at peace. But if I slam it shut without really knowing what I’m leaving behind, I have a feeling that I’d wonder about a missed chance for happiness. The end of possibility.

I’m afraid. I’m confused. I think I need to grow up. More than anything, though, I need encouragement, dear lurkers, so come out from the shadows and post a comment telling me that everything is going to be okay. If you prefer, you can tell me I'm a self-indulgent weenie. Whatevs!

And if that seems like a manipulative ploy for attention, it is. I understand that now. Thank you, Dr. Phil, thank you.