Late night thoughts

It is 11 at night and just about pitch black. I'm sitting at a hike-in primitive camp site in the strangely stupendous Stub Stewart State Park between Portland and the Pacific. There is maybe one other camper withing a half mile. Just me and the crickets. I actually have my pocketknife ready in case a bear wanders by. The rest of this post is me being introspective on a lonely night rather than fun travel stuff.

For most of my adult life I've been very content to be a loner. Do what I want, when I want. Don't plan anything. If something interesting comes up, go along for the ride; otherwise there's always a movie, book or the internet. Family will always be there and acquaintances will always be around without really having to work at it. I crave richer/fuller relationships and find myself a bit at a loss as to why I don't have more at this point in my life. Sure I don't strike up a conversation with strangers, or call up friends to do things or remember people's birthdays or even bother to pick up the phone half the time it rings, but why should that matter? Shouldn't fabulously interesting people be seeking me out on my terms?

I'm a weird guy (shocking!) and I realize that people I'm really able to connect with will most likely also be weird. Generally, though, I determine people are not weird in enough of the same dimensions as me to really get me or be worth investing a lot of effort in (and occasionally vice versa). Maybe I'm too picky or maybe this is just life. I always assumed that given enough time and chance encounters, I would accumulate more and closer relationships than I have. It would seem to be time for some changes but I'm not sure what will be fruitful (or if I'm too set in my ways.)