Posted this as a Youtube comment earlier :

OK, long story but bear with me.
1991. I’m a freshman, I have only recently discovered philosophy classes and I have been enjoying the hell out of mine. Holy crap, thinking about stuff is its own entire… thing!
One day, a philosophy professor I adored, Professor Trnka, took me aside and gently but firmly told me that I needed to stop dominating class discussions. That he understood that I was eager and bright but I needed to let the less confident and loud students get their chance to contribute as well, so I needed to tone it down.
This made an impression on me so I was thinking a lot about it as I made my way to my next class, another philosophy class, this one with Professor Koch.
After which he gave me the EXACT SAME TALK.
Almost word for word. These professors had not coordinated in any way or on any level. They just both decided I needed that talk on the same day. So as arrogant as I was back then, I took their lesson to heart. If it had been just one of them, I might have gone the arrogant neckbeard route of thinking, “Well, if they can’t keep up with my genius, too frigging bad. Boo hoo hoo. It’s not my fault I’m awesome. “
But by the time Professor Koch was done, I figured I must be the problem. So I learned to slow down and take my goddamned turn.

I was, in fact, the asshole.

And now I have come all the way back around to contemplating (planning?) being arrogant once more.

I mean, being arrogant doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole, right? It must be possible to have a very high opinion of yourself and your capabilities while still being a genuinely warm and decent person.

You don’t have to be a Trump.

Admittedly, I can feel my cocky and arrogant side trying to tug me away from my usual empathy and consideration and deep humanism so that I can spend more energy just basking in the glow of my scintillating awesomeness.

Well fuck that. That whole idea disgusts me. Even if I gave in to delusions of messianic grandeur (always a possibility with me), the idea of a life lived all cooped up in my own soul instead of exploring the magnificent multiplicity found in the minds and souls of those around me sounds like a slow burning but thorough version of hell.

Besides, there is no reason you can’t hold yourself to an extremely high moral standard because you think too highly of yourself to do anything low, base, petty, or cruel.

That shit’s beneath me, baby. Walk on by.

I think I may be slowly turning into a 60’s Vegas crooner.

Ring a ding ding, baby!

Anyhow, yeah. I think I can imagine myself as, like, a magnified version of who I am right now. Still a sweetie, still sensitive and deep, still caring deeply for people doing the best I can for them, but with the confidence in my own coruscating amazingness that I need to truly shine and fill the world with the wonders I create.

Or at least get laid.

But it has to start with opening up inside. There is much inside me that needs to come out. Just how much, I can’t tell you, but it’s a LOT.

The image I am currently using to facilitate this transformation is of a house with its windows being flung open to let the morning sun and all that wholesome fresh air in, and all my own radiance out.

And if some shadows need to slip out at the same time, so be it. I am slowly learning that my soul is like a packed nightclub in that I can only let the good stuff in if I let some of the bad stuff out to make room.

So I suppose that might seem schizophrenic to some. Sometimes I am upbeat and perky, the next I am bitter and angry and dark, and the next I’m thoughtful and deep, and the next I’m raging about politics, and the next…

I’m a million different people from one day to the next.

But they are all just facets of me.

More after the break.

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The world was our burrito

Strangeness : I ordered a 2 for 1 burrito special from a place called Ricky Ticky Taco. ^[1] Takes a while but it shows up. Yup, there’s my two burritos.

But they’re in a Quesada bag.

As patient readers know, I’ve also ordered my Mexican food from there. And come to think of it, the DoorDash menu for Ricky Ticky Taco was identical to the one from Quesada. Chin stroking hmmmmmm.

I feel like someone is pulling a fast one on me. Are they actually the same place?

Anyhow, when my food arrived, I discovered that moisture had caused the top of my burrito to stick to the wrapper, and thus when I opened the wrapper it ripped the top of my burrito off, thus making it much harder to eat.

Eventually, I gave up on trying to keep the thing together and just dumped the whole thing on top of the little bit of trail mix left in my bowl.

I wonder if that’s how the burrito bowl was invented.

“Oh no, my burrito is falling apart! I know, I’ll stick it in this bowl. Great, now how do I eat it? Well I have this spoon….. hey, this is pretty good!:

Aaaand….. scene. Thank you.

My foot appointment went fine. Nikki (yay, the nice British lady has a name now) made a bunch of adjustments to my giant Frankenstein shoes and hopefully that will keep them from flattening liek they did before.

Seriously, by the time I got to the G. F. Strong building today, they were basically oversized slippers. I could walk out of them.

So far they feel OK. I forgot to tell Nikki about how bad the shoes hurt my feet when she first put them on me. I hope that’s not important.

Today, though, they felt fine.

I suspect the real problem is that I have very weak ankles. So my foot kind of turns sideways when I walk.

Of course, that didn’t occur to me till I was home.

Oh, and one misadventure in the appointment : so I get to the building and Julian and I go through the lobby, down the elevator, and to the prosthetics and orthotics office.

Where the receptionists intercepts me and says, “Michael, come to the back office with me”, so I follow her allll the way through the offices and rooms there only to have Nikki tell her to go to the FRONT office so now we have to go almost all the way back to the reception area and I have still not had a chance to sit the fuck down!

But I am proud of myself for complaining about it. I said to the receptionist, “You really should not be running me around like this!” and “Remember me? The guy who fell last time I was here!?!”.

So yay that.

By the time I actually got to sit my legs were screaming the song of their people at me.

Turns out pain makes me assertive.

Anyhow, that was my day. I’ll be back there March 10.

And I am still annoyed about my burrito.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.