Je suis deconsole
Hi guys.
You may wonder why I'm back on this LiveJournal. The truth is, the new name didn't fit. Not that "Sir Slapahoe" is any more suitable, but more of you know me by this name, so if I'm going to post, here will do.
The past few days have been unusually somber. I have laughed and played and cheered for my team, I've read good books and hung out with great friends...
But.
Amidst it all, I felt a burgeoning discomfort with myself and my life. I have not given of myself to any one pursuit with sufficient ardor to accomplish anything significant.
In truth, I love to learn. Discovering new endeavors and trying my hand at them is my one enduring joy, to which I have dedicated the better part of my life. Why, then, could I not have followed the learning curve to excellence? After a spell, my attentions inevitably wander in search of new activity, always craving the exotic and unknown. This has, I think, fostered a feeling of inadequacy, compounded with my high school misadventures that left me a lonely shell, despite the transient affairs of friendship and love.
It is a terrifying thing to look closely at your innermost thoughts. I have, through introspection and meditative discourse, found what I see as perhaps the worst of me. Covetousness, Jealousy, Pride...I could name any number of archetypal sins, but the truly sad thing is the pervading, desperate fear.
Fear that I will never become more than this quietly sad person I am now.
Fear of falling from the graces of the wonderful people I have been blessed to know.
Fear of being forever lonely.
You may wonder why I'm back on this LiveJournal. The truth is, the new name didn't fit. Not that "Sir Slapahoe" is any more suitable, but more of you know me by this name, so if I'm going to post, here will do.
The past few days have been unusually somber. I have laughed and played and cheered for my team, I've read good books and hung out with great friends...
But.
Amidst it all, I felt a burgeoning discomfort with myself and my life. I have not given of myself to any one pursuit with sufficient ardor to accomplish anything significant.
In truth, I love to learn. Discovering new endeavors and trying my hand at them is my one enduring joy, to which I have dedicated the better part of my life. Why, then, could I not have followed the learning curve to excellence? After a spell, my attentions inevitably wander in search of new activity, always craving the exotic and unknown. This has, I think, fostered a feeling of inadequacy, compounded with my high school misadventures that left me a lonely shell, despite the transient affairs of friendship and love.
It is a terrifying thing to look closely at your innermost thoughts. I have, through introspection and meditative discourse, found what I see as perhaps the worst of me. Covetousness, Jealousy, Pride...I could name any number of archetypal sins, but the truly sad thing is the pervading, desperate fear.
Fear that I will never become more than this quietly sad person I am now.
Fear of falling from the graces of the wonderful people I have been blessed to know.
Fear of being forever lonely.