I had imagined many things to be different at this age. Not entirely true; I did spend a good several years unable to visualize a future. I was incapable of seeing past a single day, and not because I was living in the moment, but because I had difficulty understanding the point, if any, to continuing with most of anything. At the same time, I felt that I was doing a lot. No, I was. It’s not a matter of thinking it or feeling it, but I was. And yet, somehow it seems like it was not enough. It was so easy to find many identities in school and to fit into so many different social worlds.
Then school changed. I changed. And now I keep thinking more and more that I want to go back to school. I want to finish this comic I am working on with Nazir. I want to get started on this talk show with Teejay. I want to get First Line rolling with Ben. I want to live in CO for at least 6 months on the farm. I want to travel the world. I want to write and write and write and write and write. And I am doing some of these things. I think I want results immediately. And I am battling motivation problems. And I am battling my inability to communicate. And I am battling my self-doubt.
I think I threw out and deleted all my final papers. Why would I do that? I have a tendency to rid myself of things and people often. I see most things as replaceable and try so hard not to become attached that I allow these actions to effect things that I should hold onto. I saw school as unnecessary. That may be the case, but I enjoy school. I enjoy learning. I enjoy teaching. And while I am fully aware that things do not just happen because we are good people or because we are able to pull ourselves up (what a load of crap idea), or by prayer or positive thought, I also find asking for help difficult. I am not good at selling myself. Hello! This sounds like one giant sob. It is not. I am pouring out my current state. I am being honest. I ask for no sympathy or false positive reinforcement. In fact, save it. I don’t have time for that. I don’t like falseness. Maybe that is why I get annoyed at myself. I allow a false sense of accomplishment to keep me where I am. That does not even sound right; does not begin to deconstruct where I am in my head and in my actions.
This is it. This is my head. Right now.