:: Captain's Personal Blog ::

Stardate: Wednesday, March 13, 2002

Why is it that every now and then you get the urge to compare yourself to the people around you?

Well, this question is actually not directed at anyone in particular other than myself. It's kind of weird. I seem to spend a lot of my time surrounded by my intellectual superiors. This is nice, because I like smart people. It has the unfortunate downside of occasionally making me feel inadequate. I don't want people to feel they have to dumb themself down to talk to me. That would be terribly inappropriate and would make me feel even more stupid.

Some of the people who I hang out with have very broad horizons compared to my rather sheltered and limited world. I've never had a problem with my world, my universe, or my likes and dislikes. And I wonder if that's the problem. I like who I am, and unfortunately feel no need to dive into the things that make one an interesting human being.

I am still a kid. A 24-year-old kid. As such, I read comic books, watch movies and television, and love my toys (and for all you sickos out there, I don't LOVE my toys.) I love playing with my computer and can spend long hours just pretending. I read an occasional book that would fall into one of the above categories. Past that, there's not much there. I'm not a tremendous fan of literature, so I fall short intellectually in that department. I can't stand the world at large, so current events are out of the question. While I have a vague idea of history, it never much appealed to me. I like music, but mostly film scores and a very specific set of other kinds. I also really don't like to dance, so socializing in those circles falls even shorter.

Am I feeling sorry for myself? Maybe, but it won't last. I am proud of the person that I am. Boring as I may be to others, I can at least be proud of my accomplishments and take great pleasure in the things that I love. At times, it can be a lonely existence. It's hard to share the things you love with those who don't appreciate them and like them in turn.

I suppose this also leads up to that occasional post that I make about finding a significant other. I once found someone who almost fit the entire bill for me. It was a wonderful relationship, and the only serious one I've ever had in my life. Unfortunately, it couldn't last. I was just too demanding. In addition to all the things that we had, I wanted her to have just one thing more......A sense of independence. I don't mean financial independence, or independence from her family. Just a sense of self. An ability to be in a relationship, and yet not have to spend all our time together. The ability to do things on her own without her feeling that I loved her any less.

Is it truly possible that there is someone out there for everyone? With a population of 6 billion human beings, and only about 85 years, what are the odds of finding that person? And by what standards? How many things must you truly compromise on in life to get what you really want? In an ideal world you would get everything without compromise. In this world, it seems everything is a compromise. You have to compromise to have a good relationship. You have to compromise your future, just so that you can get a reasonably good paying job, so that you don't get thrown out on the street. Once you get your job, you have to truly compromise your sense of self if you want to get ahead.

I have tried as hard as I can not to let myself get compromised. "To thine own self be true." Trite, but true nonetheless. I have to be me. And maybe that's the point of this whole rant. The affirmation that despite all else, and at the possible sacrifice of everything else, I will be me. For better or worse. I am what I am. Popeye said that. A wise man. And he ate his spinach to boot.

Affirming my personal beliefs, I love my friends. They are the most important things I have, second only to my family. Feeling the way I do about myself makes them even more important, because if they can like me for who I am, there is hope. Not like the old days when I was truly alone. How many people can say that at the age of 18 they had finally accepted the fact that they would never have a significant other. AND WERE OKAY WITH THAT FACT! I even had a que sera sera outlook on friends at the time. If I ever got any, fine. If not, oh well--That's life. I'd like to think that I am less fatalistic in my older age, but who am I to judge. Some would say I am downright depressing.

I find it interesting to note that just a few months ago, I had no blog. Without a blog, where would these thoughts have gone? They probably would have stayed in my consciousness, coalescing over time. Then what? Moot point, I suppose. The blog is here and so are my thoughts. Like an open book to the world. Just as I have always been.


:: J 9:18 AM [+] ::
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