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Jul. 23rd, 2005 01:42 amIt's amazing, really.
I have projects. I really enjoy them. But I know they're shite. I ignore that fact because they keep me entertained, but really, I should be out being a useful member of society, volunteering at least, if not getting a job, instead of sitting around wasting my time on something that's never going to do anything but provide me with a modicum of entertainment. But I can delude myself. As long as I don't look too hard, I can play around, but then I read something that's actually good, and I remember just how much is in my head. And I wonder why I bother.
There's a guy I know, I've known him his whole life. There's nothing he touches that doesn't turn to gold. He's a brilliant theoretical physicist, he makes computers do tricks for him, he learned German as if he'd been speaking it his whole life, he does theatre. He won National Science Fair and History Day and went to International Science Fair at least twice. He got in to CalTech and MIT. And now he's writing. Strange, intense, beautiful prose. And I wonder why I bother.
I have this weird superiority/inferiority thing going. I'm sure that all my friends are much better than I am, but I appear to think I'm better than anybody else. I'm not sure that I know the difference between pride and arrogance and simple pleasure in my accomplishments, which are few and far between at the moment. And I wonder why I bother.
I have to find something that I can take pride in that isn't a bunch of shite. I have to recognize that I'm one of nearly 6.5 billion people on this planet and it's very likely that I will never have any greater distinction than that. I wouldn't expect to hear from me again.
I have projects. I really enjoy them. But I know they're shite. I ignore that fact because they keep me entertained, but really, I should be out being a useful member of society, volunteering at least, if not getting a job, instead of sitting around wasting my time on something that's never going to do anything but provide me with a modicum of entertainment. But I can delude myself. As long as I don't look too hard, I can play around, but then I read something that's actually good, and I remember just how much is in my head. And I wonder why I bother.
There's a guy I know, I've known him his whole life. There's nothing he touches that doesn't turn to gold. He's a brilliant theoretical physicist, he makes computers do tricks for him, he learned German as if he'd been speaking it his whole life, he does theatre. He won National Science Fair and History Day and went to International Science Fair at least twice. He got in to CalTech and MIT. And now he's writing. Strange, intense, beautiful prose. And I wonder why I bother.
I have this weird superiority/inferiority thing going. I'm sure that all my friends are much better than I am, but I appear to think I'm better than anybody else. I'm not sure that I know the difference between pride and arrogance and simple pleasure in my accomplishments, which are few and far between at the moment. And I wonder why I bother.
I have to find something that I can take pride in that isn't a bunch of shite. I have to recognize that I'm one of nearly 6.5 billion people on this planet and it's very likely that I will never have any greater distinction than that. I wouldn't expect to hear from me again.
