Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters

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At 17 had a better dream, but now I'm 33 and it isn't me

My new haircut makes my head look like nothing so much as an egg wearing a bad toupee. It's not a bad haircut per se, it's just mismatched to my head. Of course all new haircuts look pretty lousy on me, hopefully a week of growth will give it a little more heft. I try not to concern myself with my hair too much since it will be falling out soon but I do like it, as much as I like any hair. It's thick and dark with light brown highlights. Should give a lovely framing effect in a few years when it's just a monk-style ring.

My cold has cleared up a little, at least in terms of the headache (though I still have a runny nose) and I'm starting to feel mentally focused again for the first time in a week or so. Yikes. I'm back to having my midlife crisis at 22 years of age. Everytime I read about people with great accomplishments at a young age, or even those who just set themselves up for great accomplishments later on, I feel a strong ache of jealousy. When I think back to my undergarduate career and the fact that I never took an internship in an area I was seriously considering pursuing I am filled with self loathing and regret. I feel too old, past my prime, done in. Like a vast vessel of squandered potential and dying dreams. Logically I know there is still probably time to right the ship. I'm 22, I am not swamped in debt. I can take courses, immerse myself in subject areas, I am still quite bright, still creative and different, still capable of learning, growing, honing, achieving, developing. I am afraid that my fear will hold me captive though. That I will never be able to take the hop skip and a leap of faith needed to reach the promised land. There are those who fail by doing without thinking and those who fail by thinking without doing. I am in the latter category and when I think about starving actors or writers who have so much self-faith that they eschew rationale and go for the gold I am filled with admiration and disgust at the same time. Who do they think they are? It's a double-edged question because the answer is that they think more of themselves than the world does, yet it is only by such aspiration that one escapes the borders of a bounded life. Many of them are not talented. Some are poseurs. Some are doing it only in the pursuit of the shallow rewards that should be a side effect of great creative effort. I would rather write something great and have someone else reap the rewards than be made rich and famous by having my name slapped on something effortless and popular.

I cling to my specialness, my brightness, as a crutch, but nobody's as bright as they think they are and even if I was it would only carry me so far. I need to take that giant leap but I'm not sure in what direction I want to go and if I have the strength to make the climb after the fall, because at this point I'm pretty sure I will fall a few times before I reach the other side, if I ever do.

I can't wait for school to start back up to take some of this focus off of myself. At least that should help with some of this stuff, if only temporarily. Temporary is better than not at all though.

At 17 had a better dream, but now I'm 22 and it isn't true but I'd think of something better if I could.
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