Most peculiar, mama! Whoa!

Feeling strange today, but mostly in a pleasant way. It’s a fresh and crisp kind of weird, like I woke up with a clean break from previous reality and now I get to decide just what kind of weirdo I will be today.

This is mostly likely because of the big soul dump I wrote last Thursday. Like I always end up saying after one of those, I just have to let out all the badness I can now and then. It builds up inside me making me feel crazier and crazier, and I just have to spill it all out onto the blank page and let the vast printable wasteland of the Internet’s infinite ream soak up all the blood, guts, and filth that I am drive to cough up.

Well, we’ll say I cough it up. It comes out one way or another, anyhow.

I also often say I should do it more often, which is an easy thing to say when you are basking in the post purgative afterglow, but quite another thing when that has faded and you are back to trying to live your life in your usual semi-soiled state.

Sure, it would be great to vent more often, but I am not sure I could take it, honestly. And quite honestly, I am quite afraid of what lurks under the top layer of filth on my soul.

So I have been simply shedding them through a natural erosion process which is slow, but it is what I can handle, and I am just going to have to learn to live with that.

I am still determined to deny myself all forms of self denigration. I plan to shut the “taking it out on yourself” channel completely, or at least, give it a damn good try. Obviously, I can’t just will myself to become a total sociopath who is incapable of self-reflection or guilt (and I wouldn’t if I could), but I still plan on cutting the “taking it out on myself” channel out of the system entirely.

I want to switch my polarity from “absolutely anything can make me feel bad about myself” to “I am completely awesome in all ways except for that which the universe absolutely forces me to accept”.

The second position seems far healthier. I know that it has risks, and I am pretty sure that in my attempts to develop a more positive self-image and correct for my self-loathing bias, I will over-correct more than a few times and act like an egotistical jerk now and then.

But you know what? There are far worse things in life than being a jerk now and then.

And depression to the point of spiritual paralysis that keeps you from growing up at all for 20 years is definitely far worse than occasionally having to apologize for getting a little to into yourself.

After all, I’m a nice guy, I’m funny, I’m charming in a quirky way, I am crazy freaking smart, I have tons of creative talent, I am sweet and sensitive and silly, and I have a unique point of view that is delightfully askew from the mainstream.

SO what if I am not that good at mundane things? So what if I am a clueless hothouse flower who does dumb shit all the time? Who cares? For all we know, any famous and admirable person you can think of was just as dorky and lost as we are, and we just don’t know about it because it’s not the sort of thing biographers or tabloid journalists care about.

You will never see a headline saying “BRAD PITT LOSES CAR KEYS FOR THIRD TIME THIS MONTH” or “KURT VONNEGUT’s BIOGRAPHER REVEALS : HE WAS A SLOB” or “NOBEL PRIZE PHYSICIST HAS AWKWARD BLIND DATE”.

A lot of famous people are probably terrible at life, and need people in their lives to take care of the details of life or they would be completely helpless.

For the most part, it seems to me, human beings get roughly the same amount of potential at birth, and the better a person is in one area, the worse they are in all the others.

So people of peak talent and ability do not have a lot of “points” to spend on the more regular, everyday parts of their lives, and hence are stumbling fools when it comes to the areas outside of their big talent(s) or skill(s).

And that sure describes me. I am a clumsy slob distinctly lacking in life skills. I do dumb shit all the time. I am not well suited for the real world. I am a dreamer who is only weakly attached to “reality” and who lives in a world inside his head most of the time.

And I have used all that as an excuse to hate myself for a long long time, but really, how much does that stuff really matter? I have so many other assets. Who cares whether you are a neat housekeeper or a skilled book stacker if you have talent and charisma?

That said, the real problem is that I socially isolate myself, which would be fine if I was of a rugged all-climate outdoorsy kind of plant that could do quite well on its own, but I am not. I am that hothouse flower, and people like me need help with dealing with that “reality” thing so that our blooms can bloom and our talents can really shine.

How do I get these people? I am not sure. But I think part of it is simply cleaning out my closet and getting rid of all the negative baggage that I can, and hence, make myself simply more rewarding to be around.

then people will like me, and want to help me, and if I can keep that up, eventually I will meet the right people who can help me interface with the world better, and I can start to really grow.

It’s the meeting new people that is the hard part.