I feel as though my delusions of grandeur are collapsing.
Sometimes people confuse me. That’s not quite right: the people don’t confuse me; it’s their actions that confuse me. For example RV camping. My aunt is mad about it. She has this big bus-house thing and goes off to the state park for vacation every summer. They cook and fish and watch movies (yes there is a TV in the house-bus) This is called "a vacation."
I went with them earlier in the summer. I was able to have fun but only because I had my paints with me. The idea of "fun" is somewhat foreign to me. Why would anyone ever do anything that didn’t somehow "improve" his or her skills or knowledge? I mean, except for those desperate unhappy moments when I snap under the pressure of stress I always feel a drive to do something to make something. Even relaxing has a purpose: it revives the mind. I take relaxation like medication.
I’ve gone out with co-workers now and then and I marvel at how some people can simply relax and exist without any particular immense dream or plan or goal in mind. Like people who love some obscure TV show and put all of this energy towards something that just seems random and pointless to me
But, I have my own diversions, I guess. Like building polyhedra out of paper or flying kites… why? What for?
Perhaps the confusion I feel when I see other people passionately pursing meaningless things it’s just a reflection of my own self-doubt. I feel fragmented. For a long time I had a clear identity: I was an artist. I created plays and pictures. That was who I was.
Now, I still do these things, but I also teach. I’m a math teacher, a lover of numbers and logical structures. But, I’m also an activist, poet, runner and cultural critic.
I can’t bear to call anything I do a "hobby" that would be an insult to the passion and suffering I endure in the name of these pursuits.
But, at times I feel very shallow.
Shouldn’t I have a better idea of what I want to accomplish? Isn’t it unrealistic to think I could be good at everything? What keeps me from focusing on one goal long enough to make real progress? Fear of failure? Distractibility?
I feel as though my delusions of grandeur are collapsing. I have this feeling of being caught in a current and just letting the events of life sweep me along. It’s not bad. I can see I’ll have a fairly happy life. But not an important life. I suppose, it will be important to me, and those close to me-but that makes me sneer just a little. I expect more of myself-though at this moment I don’t even know if I know what that means.
What is my problem?
(That was not a rhetorical question… please respond!)
I went with them earlier in the summer. I was able to have fun but only because I had my paints with me. The idea of "fun" is somewhat foreign to me. Why would anyone ever do anything that didn’t somehow "improve" his or her skills or knowledge? I mean, except for those desperate unhappy moments when I snap under the pressure of stress I always feel a drive to do something to make something. Even relaxing has a purpose: it revives the mind. I take relaxation like medication.
I’ve gone out with co-workers now and then and I marvel at how some people can simply relax and exist without any particular immense dream or plan or goal in mind. Like people who love some obscure TV show and put all of this energy towards something that just seems random and pointless to me
But, I have my own diversions, I guess. Like building polyhedra out of paper or flying kites… why? What for?
Perhaps the confusion I feel when I see other people passionately pursing meaningless things it’s just a reflection of my own self-doubt. I feel fragmented. For a long time I had a clear identity: I was an artist. I created plays and pictures. That was who I was.
Now, I still do these things, but I also teach. I’m a math teacher, a lover of numbers and logical structures. But, I’m also an activist, poet, runner and cultural critic.
I can’t bear to call anything I do a "hobby" that would be an insult to the passion and suffering I endure in the name of these pursuits.
But, at times I feel very shallow.
Shouldn’t I have a better idea of what I want to accomplish? Isn’t it unrealistic to think I could be good at everything? What keeps me from focusing on one goal long enough to make real progress? Fear of failure? Distractibility?
I feel as though my delusions of grandeur are collapsing. I have this feeling of being caught in a current and just letting the events of life sweep me along. It’s not bad. I can see I’ll have a fairly happy life. But not an important life. I suppose, it will be important to me, and those close to me-but that makes me sneer just a little. I expect more of myself-though at this moment I don’t even know if I know what that means.
What is my problem?
(That was not a rhetorical question… please respond!)