Let's Be Realistic
Let's be realistic here - these writings that I create are an exercise in extreme futility. I write them for the one man audience of myself, playing out some weird charade in which I act out my absurd thoughts on this type-written stage. A part of me knew this way back when I first started writing on this blog, but some silly part of me carried the blogger's dream of being widely read and highly regarded. Given the rampant success of some bloggers (at least in their ability to garner great attention and even make the news), I guess I probably harbored some strange fantasy of achieving something similar.
The problems with this dream are many. First of all, I am not an interesting or talented writer. I don't need to explain this as all of these ridiculous entries are testament to my lack of prowess as a writer. Second: my blog is not about anything remotely interesting. Most noteworthy blogs are either funny or address some current issue in the world. Obviously my blog is not funny (which is good, because it almost never aspires to be, so that's one thing I've done right...I think...), and it clearly does not address issues of real importance. Though earlier entries used to concern themselves with actual ideas about life, death, and other such random topics about the nature of things in reality, recent articles have been extremely egocentric, generally involving me whining about whatever crap happens to plague the emotionally immature part of my mind. Looking at all of this, it is not quite clear why the logical side of me would ever allow me to harbor such a remote and absurd fantasy.
I do apologize to the hapless reader who might ever stumble upon this blog. I'm a tempermental 19 year-old white college male who has never been without in life. My family is not rich, but I've definitely been spoiled in life, and probably my greatest problems in life are all self-created. I maintain excellent pretenses sometimes that would convey the image that I'm a good human being who's genuinely interested in the welfare of others, but more and more I'm beginning to think that I'm an egoistical ass who satiates his conscience by subconsciously conspiring to consciously do good things for others. Sound convoluted? I'm sure it does, but many things in life are. I would not be the first case of someone pretending to be good when really being an atrocity.
The character flaw I possess that merits me some sort of designation as a horrible person is my extremely sanctimonious nature. You might have heard me mention it in the past, but this recurring flaw screams its presence too much for me to appease it with a solitary mention. People often feel like they're being judged by me and in all likelihood, at some level, they are. I don't know how I ever ended up being judgmental, because with an abysmal self-esteem like mine, it's hard for me to understand how I would ever, at any level, delude myself into believing I'm better than anybody. Usually I tear apart any small portions of self-esteem with the vicious claws of self-doubt, leaving little more than the crappy refuse of my worthless psyche. Despite my efforts to crush my ego, they have proved little more than appeasements for the internal Hitler of my mind, waiting for the Poland of my consciousness to be seized so that the rest of my mind can truly declare war on and destroy every fabric of my ego.
I honestly don't know why I am this way. My mother, grandmother, and eventually my father (initially my stepfather, but by age 12 he was officially my father) all raised me extremely well, doing as good a job as parents can do. I've never been remiss of love and care in my family, and I was the center of attention until I was 9. My transition from center of attention to being a big brother was an easy one, and there were few complications in the the change of attention from me to another (especially when I had 3 siblings born in a 4 year period). Basically, there is nothing in my childhood that can be cleary identified as a reason for me being so damn horrible. Logically, there does not seem to be any discernable plausibility in the causes and the current effect. Why am I do screwed up?
Either way, such a topic could easily take volumes of pages to fully explore, and as such I will not hazard to do so here (even though I've been doing so for the past few entries...). I am what I am, and I am an anomalous person whose existence cannot be justified. I wonder sometimes why I'm given anything in life, when ultimately I don't really deserve any of it. My role and function in this world has never been pivotal, and therefore it is easily conceivable that my existence is unnecessary. Do not misconstrue my words though. Just because I view my existence as unnecessary (and therefore not significantly and irreplaceably important) does not mean I ever consider suicide. Understand that with stunning and earth-shattering clarity right now. I believe that with effort, I may one day be able to be useful, and therefore suicide is never at the front of my mind. I also tend to hold some existentialist's comment in the back of my mind that, "suicide is the choice to have no meaning in life."
Don't lie to yourself. Or at least, people like me should never lie to themselves. When you're an overly idealistic and absurdly sanctimonious dipshit like myself, you never have the right to hide from reality behind a veil of ignorance. Those who do good in life and are not a plague on other people deserve a brief respite from reality, even if it is obtained through hiding from reality for a time. There will be no rest for me, if I succeed at the task I must do. No longer can I delude myself, because every time I possess the fantasy that I have value or have even a modicum of true intelligence, I am fabricating a falsity of epic proportions. My task is clear, my mission certain, all I have to do now is fight like hell to crush my ego and allow others some peace of mind.
The problems with this dream are many. First of all, I am not an interesting or talented writer. I don't need to explain this as all of these ridiculous entries are testament to my lack of prowess as a writer. Second: my blog is not about anything remotely interesting. Most noteworthy blogs are either funny or address some current issue in the world. Obviously my blog is not funny (which is good, because it almost never aspires to be, so that's one thing I've done right...I think...), and it clearly does not address issues of real importance. Though earlier entries used to concern themselves with actual ideas about life, death, and other such random topics about the nature of things in reality, recent articles have been extremely egocentric, generally involving me whining about whatever crap happens to plague the emotionally immature part of my mind. Looking at all of this, it is not quite clear why the logical side of me would ever allow me to harbor such a remote and absurd fantasy.
I do apologize to the hapless reader who might ever stumble upon this blog. I'm a tempermental 19 year-old white college male who has never been without in life. My family is not rich, but I've definitely been spoiled in life, and probably my greatest problems in life are all self-created. I maintain excellent pretenses sometimes that would convey the image that I'm a good human being who's genuinely interested in the welfare of others, but more and more I'm beginning to think that I'm an egoistical ass who satiates his conscience by subconsciously conspiring to consciously do good things for others. Sound convoluted? I'm sure it does, but many things in life are. I would not be the first case of someone pretending to be good when really being an atrocity.
The character flaw I possess that merits me some sort of designation as a horrible person is my extremely sanctimonious nature. You might have heard me mention it in the past, but this recurring flaw screams its presence too much for me to appease it with a solitary mention. People often feel like they're being judged by me and in all likelihood, at some level, they are. I don't know how I ever ended up being judgmental, because with an abysmal self-esteem like mine, it's hard for me to understand how I would ever, at any level, delude myself into believing I'm better than anybody. Usually I tear apart any small portions of self-esteem with the vicious claws of self-doubt, leaving little more than the crappy refuse of my worthless psyche. Despite my efforts to crush my ego, they have proved little more than appeasements for the internal Hitler of my mind, waiting for the Poland of my consciousness to be seized so that the rest of my mind can truly declare war on and destroy every fabric of my ego.
I honestly don't know why I am this way. My mother, grandmother, and eventually my father (initially my stepfather, but by age 12 he was officially my father) all raised me extremely well, doing as good a job as parents can do. I've never been remiss of love and care in my family, and I was the center of attention until I was 9. My transition from center of attention to being a big brother was an easy one, and there were few complications in the the change of attention from me to another (especially when I had 3 siblings born in a 4 year period). Basically, there is nothing in my childhood that can be cleary identified as a reason for me being so damn horrible. Logically, there does not seem to be any discernable plausibility in the causes and the current effect. Why am I do screwed up?
Either way, such a topic could easily take volumes of pages to fully explore, and as such I will not hazard to do so here (even though I've been doing so for the past few entries...). I am what I am, and I am an anomalous person whose existence cannot be justified. I wonder sometimes why I'm given anything in life, when ultimately I don't really deserve any of it. My role and function in this world has never been pivotal, and therefore it is easily conceivable that my existence is unnecessary. Do not misconstrue my words though. Just because I view my existence as unnecessary (and therefore not significantly and irreplaceably important) does not mean I ever consider suicide. Understand that with stunning and earth-shattering clarity right now. I believe that with effort, I may one day be able to be useful, and therefore suicide is never at the front of my mind. I also tend to hold some existentialist's comment in the back of my mind that, "suicide is the choice to have no meaning in life."
Don't lie to yourself. Or at least, people like me should never lie to themselves. When you're an overly idealistic and absurdly sanctimonious dipshit like myself, you never have the right to hide from reality behind a veil of ignorance. Those who do good in life and are not a plague on other people deserve a brief respite from reality, even if it is obtained through hiding from reality for a time. There will be no rest for me, if I succeed at the task I must do. No longer can I delude myself, because every time I possess the fantasy that I have value or have even a modicum of true intelligence, I am fabricating a falsity of epic proportions. My task is clear, my mission certain, all I have to do now is fight like hell to crush my ego and allow others some peace of mind.
posted by Andrew McKenna at 2:13 PM
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