122 - Thank the gods for true friends

I can be one of the most tolerant, patient, generous, considerate, romantic, and carefree people you can ever meet in your life. The problem I have with most people, though - the only reason I am not being torn in different directions by multiple groups and cliques constantly craving my presence - is the fact that I don't know what I myself truly want. And in my confusion, I make big moves that affect myself and other people in an attempt to bond and belong, fueled and rationalized by my emotional partiality, that ultimately end up in other people and myself getting hurt.

My displays of affection are sometimes viewed as inappropriate, because I think overstepping boundaries shows the courage to be romantic. I am devious and gossipy because I think sharing secrets and meddling in other people's lives means caring about other people's secrets and other people's lives - even though it blatently is snaky and dishonest. The term 'arrogance' crops up occasionally with me, because in some sick, self-centered place in my mind, I think putting up an appearance of confidence attracts people who lack self-esteem and maybe want to get inspired. At times, I'm told that I am insensitive to other people's lives and feelings, and this can largely be attributed to my focus being geared towards romance, or confidence, or whatever I think is completely justified to do.

I've always known that if I kept to my own business throughout my entire life, people would always love me and appreciate me for who I am if I happen to be there sitting beside them in any number of circumstances, but the problem is I just cannot control my innate, human inclination towards social interaction. I have to talk to people. I have to find people to trust. I have to find people to share my life with. And this tendency makes me do crazy, mean things.

And then there are those few that see that I don't mean to mess up anything, that I am actually very accepting of differences, and embracing of common traits, that I am good company, with interesting opinions and a very generous heart. I am grateful to the gods that these people can see past my bullshit, and can forgive me if I wrong them, and can stick by me, even defend me sometimes, while I continue to screw up my relationship with the rest of the world.

Without them, I'd be gone by now, 'cause I really drive myself crazy.

121 - How do we know that's the right thing to do?

Every few months or so, I get told that I think too much, that I'm over-complicating things and I should learn to just relax and let the little things go. My defense mechanism to counter these claims is substitution by alternative phrasing. Instead, I call it logical reasoning. I call it careful assessment of my situation. I call it elaboration. I call it attention to detail. I call it keeping a critical eye. I call it making an informed decision. I call it wisdom. I call it not judging a book by its cover. I call it an evaluation. I call it reflection. I call it effective writing. I call it a rant. I call it a simple train of thought. I call it the pursuit of clarity. And last but not least, I also call it my blog.

I call my obsessive-compulsive infatuation with specification by a great number of titles, all with the aim of shrouding my immoderate committal, my limitless passion, my exorbitant ambition towards the practice of rationality, due to which I strive to act in the most sensible, practical way possible, that reaps the most benefit with the least hindrance, but truth be told, I'm a walking, and way too often, talking, load of bullshit.

Because somehow, despite my incredibly analytical mentality, bad things still happen. Call it fated by the wrong pantheon of gods, call it rotten luck, call it the very consequence of my excessive contemplation - bad things happen to me, around me, because of me, anyway, in spite of the fact that I try so hard to avoid setbacks and tribulations and the other half of reality that doesn't go the way I want it to. And the only thing that seems right to do at this point, is to push myself harder, and harder, and harder, and harder, until the finish line brings a peace and harmony to my life that took years, and decades, what feels like my entire life to reach.

But that's not the way it works at all. The way it really works is one never truly feels completely matured. One never feels old enough. One never feels like they're one step ahead in life. One can never learn the ideal combination of life lessons that will allow for pure faultlessness of existence. We are forever young and inexperienced. We are forever surprised, and unprepared to face the obstacles on our journey. Just when you think you have it altogether, one tiny little thing screws up, and then another thing gets spoiled as a result. And then it's like the house of cards just came tumbling down, just as you were putting down the last 7 and King for its roof.

I feel like it's time to start all over again. But then again, it's always time to start all over again. There's always something going wrong, just as there's always something going right. There's always something to mend, and once you've fixed it, something else has shattered, something else fell off the table, or that first thing was vandalized after you had just cleaned it up. There's never any time to simply stop. There's never time to feel perfect. It's always something - something that makes you look and feel like an overly complacent idiot.

I wish I could mean it when I say that the trick is not to get too caught up with it all. But I don't think I, or anyone else, can perform that phenomenal trick. That is actual magic.

So I don't know what to do. And I forgot what my initial point was. I hope this was enthralling literature for you nonetheless. For the seventh time tonight, I'm going to go to bed, and try and fall asleep.