Google Search: finding yourself

Google Search: finding yourself

Finding Myself, Who Am I, What Do I Want?

Not Finding Nemo, but finding myself.

I seem to question myself and this nature of being on a regular basis as of late. I don’t know if it’s my ambition, my state of affairs, selling most of my worldly possession or social structure, but I seem to ask myself the question “What the Fuck am I doing?”.

Who I was. Am I comparing myself to what I was 10 years ago? 5 Years ago? Last month? Next Year? 5 Years from Now? or 10 years from now?

I’m a rambling of incoherent thoughts tonight since it’s almost 3am and I’m usually well asleep by this hour on any regular night.

I’m a geek, for certain. I can be passionate about what I want and what I think is right. I will go out of my way to do something. I will not do something simply because it takes the slightlest iota of effort.

I was an artist. I am an artist. I will be an artist. The varying degrees of this aptitude through the years has been argueably immeasurable but flucuating from the point of unimaginative square to flourishing beatnick. One day I’m drooling over computer issues the next I’m mopping my salivation over some fine paintings.

I cannot tell you what or who I am to any exact measure or that I will always be that way. Humans are not static, we are not rocks. But even if we were rocks, even rocks change ever so slightly over time.

I’ve sometimes wondered if there really is something different about me compared to average American.

Am I doing the right thing for myself by moving out to Portland? Should I be concerned over such thoughts as these and go with my gut instinct and move?

If there is someone here that I find myself interested in, should I take that plunge and see if the interest is returned and put my migration to the west on hold? Or is the mere thought of rejection the inhibition that blocks the simple words of “What’s your phone number” from fumbling their exit from my noise tube?

Will anyone see me as being special or as just some nutjob?

Why do I torment myself with such questions during times of mental and physical exhaustion? Are any of these questions going to be privvy to a solid answer that isn’t covered in foggy grays of incertainty or ambiguity?

It’s true. There is someone that was mear inches from me at some point that I wanted and even tried to say something along the lines of asking if they were available and if I could contact them, but all I could seem to muster on my face was a squinting smile. This pains me to even realize that I can’t break that preverbial ice.

My self confidence with the opposite sex seems to be completely shot by my embarrassment of current financial and dental short-comings. The only thing I can seem to do is look them in the eye and smile but nothing more. How can I break this deamon? How do I get over it?

Shit…tonight’s entry probably has the dept of a 16-year-old’s “Livejournal” about their daily events and how they are such a tortured soul that nobody understands and their fame will never be known.

My keyboard accuracy is dropping below that of a one handed cyber-sexxor on the verge of climax with his fictional mistress. I think I should get some sleep then spend part of tomorrow working on my 100 “I am” list.

Love, Luck, and Lollipops.

Categories: Life