(no subject)
It's 3:30 in the morning, and I'm riding out one of my rage-storms again.
I get them sometimes. I don't know if there's a formal name for it, but every now and again something just goes wrong in my head for a little while. It's like, all of a sudden, I don't want to be around my friends. My pursuits are nothing but a waste of time. I stay up late into the night, my head running around in circles. I find myself wanting to say nothing but hurtful things to people who, by rights, have been nothing but kind to me.
And when it's passed, I'm left to stare at where it went and wonder where it came from and why it's here.
I think I've figured it out, though.
The problem is that I've surrounded myself with frankly extraordinary people - which in turn reminds me of my frank ordinariness.
Everyone I know has gone on to do something incredible: finish law school, get married, raise a family, make a difference. And after 26 years, I am forced to concede that I have nothing to show for my time here. I just wander from one job to the next: a luckless college grad who can't make good on any of the promise that he used to show back in the day.
I have made the mistake of living as if I am on the cusp of doing something great. And I don't think it was until tonight that I was able to articulate how false this notion is.
I'm not a great man; hell, I'm not even a good one. I'm not destined for any great thing. I'm just me. And if I'm going to do anything worth doing, then it's going to have to start with me.
of course, knowing me, that means I'll end up doing something stupid and pointless that writing awesome novels that nobody wants to read, or doing my best work for a company that'll only get rid of me (and only me - see my last job) when the budget gets tight.
But hell. If we all end up the same way anyway in the end, why not get there failing at mighty deeds? no more of this gray twilight.
I get them sometimes. I don't know if there's a formal name for it, but every now and again something just goes wrong in my head for a little while. It's like, all of a sudden, I don't want to be around my friends. My pursuits are nothing but a waste of time. I stay up late into the night, my head running around in circles. I find myself wanting to say nothing but hurtful things to people who, by rights, have been nothing but kind to me.
And when it's passed, I'm left to stare at where it went and wonder where it came from and why it's here.
I think I've figured it out, though.
The problem is that I've surrounded myself with frankly extraordinary people - which in turn reminds me of my frank ordinariness.
Everyone I know has gone on to do something incredible: finish law school, get married, raise a family, make a difference. And after 26 years, I am forced to concede that I have nothing to show for my time here. I just wander from one job to the next: a luckless college grad who can't make good on any of the promise that he used to show back in the day.
I have made the mistake of living as if I am on the cusp of doing something great. And I don't think it was until tonight that I was able to articulate how false this notion is.
I'm not a great man; hell, I'm not even a good one. I'm not destined for any great thing. I'm just me. And if I'm going to do anything worth doing, then it's going to have to start with me.
of course, knowing me, that means I'll end up doing something stupid and pointless that writing awesome novels that nobody wants to read, or doing my best work for a company that'll only get rid of me (and only me - see my last job) when the budget gets tight.
But hell. If we all end up the same way anyway in the end, why not get there failing at mighty deeds? no more of this gray twilight.