November 22, 1996 Friday
I am me, of that there can be no doubt. But what makes me me? Well, I am told I am complex, and hard to know, even if many things are right on the surface (my friends will attest to this).
It means you will often be misunderstood in a lot of things you do. It means wanting everyone to see you in a positive light. It means many of your actions will be misinterpreted for what they are. You would experience moments of confusion (actually, lots of that) and frustration at the way things turn out. Your usually good intentions would be mistaken. This would lead you to wonder exactly how to act, if your default setting wasn’t getting the job done. Hence, second-guessing would become second nature.
It would mean you would see things from the outside, looking in. Of course, that’s not all bad. You would become very proficient at observation. Skillful at being a judge of character. Listening instead of speaking would not come so much from apprehension, but a preference of action.
A large group of acquaintances would be passed over in favor a small gathering of close comrades. You would want to learn every aspect of those people–special to you–like you knew them like a book, from cover to cover. Perhaps then this writing is my attempt at being ready to share with someone else, now or one day, the depths I would also like to know them. But I have to laugh at this; I don’t expect anyone else to be typing away like this most days.
Finally, your greatest wishes would not come true, forever unattainable. Being a great singer, and playing for the Cubs an impossibility, only capable of tone deafness and being stricken with random appendage flailings at the plate.
Still interested? I didn’t try to draw a negative picture of myself, just an accurate one. It’s really not that bad being me. After all, I do it every day.