Second Guessing

Periodically, I will click on 'edit posts' and find that in my list of posts are a few I just never got around to finishing with some other thought demanding my attention and moving me on.

Yet in the past 3 days I've started and deleted a bunch of posts with great abundence. Eventually I just fell back on writing more chapters of 'the naive investor' (which I stuffed up and will have to write prequels for).

This though is new, not wanting to publish something. Clearly I have very low standards. More exciting though was that today I got hit by a wave of overwhelming desire to just forget everything I'd learned in the past 10 years, putting me somewhere back in year 11.

I don't know why, perhaps I'm just tired. Because in year 11 I was an unapologetic arrogant dickcuntfag. I would chew that kid up (unless it was a cross country event) and spit him out. I'd probably be a lot nicer about it than he would be.

I link it to another curious incident in the middle of the other night, when I woke up and scratched my calf in the middle of the night. For some reason I had the reassuring thought upon feeling my own calf that 'I'm me.' And it was good to be me. It was like waking up and discovering your lover was still there, but not remotely sexual and my lover wasn't there. I just woke up and was reassured that I was my old familiar self.

I can make nothing of it, unless somewhere people have been crawling into a portal into my head, like being John Malcovich. But I can't see why I or they would care.

At any rate, I don't want to remain myself, which I think is starting tocarry over into second guessing, posting some opinionated 'how to live your life' post and thinking 'do I really want to put that out there?' and deleting it, considering it of little value.

Here's the thing, I wright this blog for myself. I guaruntee that you haven't read all my posts, and yet I keep on producing them without your loyal patronage.

To me they are literal reminders I'm jotting down telling me how to live my life. That you can read it just keeps me honest, and allows me to confront my fear that people know just how big an arsehole I am.

I'm pretty sure by now that people generally know just how big an arsehole I am.

I think that's why I choose to take a positive approach to my newfound lack of self assurance. I hope to change, indeed depressingly If I go back to my very first post it will reflect I time when I was full of hope that I could change myself.

Incedently, that period was probably where I changed the most, sort of dropped the ball on being self centered and realised I didn't want to live with myself. Ironically I am perhaps in many ways more alone than ever. But that is to say I'm working less on loving myself and more on making myself somebody I can love.

I think we all have to hope we can change ourselves, otherwise we are recieving a life sentence with a dickcuntfag arsehole for our only roommate.

I don't hate myself, this isn't a cry for help. But after awhile I start to get on my nerves.