Is This Who I Am Supposed To Be?

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You know what I hate?

I hate that this is who I am supposed to be.

I hate where I ended up in life. I hate that every day I wake up with regret and sorrow with who and what I have become. I played it too safe growing up. I never took chances. I was too afraid. I never pushed myself. I never tried new things. I never allowed myself to fail. And with that I also never allowed myself to succeed. When something came up, I let it go by. I can’t do that, I would tell myself. I don’t have the talent for that. Everyone would think that idea is dumb. They would laugh at me. So I stayed on the sidelined. I figured eventually things would fall into place. I figured like in the movies something would happen and all the pieces would fit together and I would wake up one day and be right with the world. But by the time I realized that real life wasn’t like that, it was too late. By the time I realized what I should have done differently, too much time had passed. I can’t go back and make those decisions over now. I missed the bus. I took the wrong road. I should have been smarter. I read somewhere that failure is not the opposite of success, failure is a part of success. I wish I would have known that then. But I didn’t and now I live a life of regret. That’s the worst pain of all. To know that had I had a second chance I could be someone different. But I’m too hard on myself. I only knew what I knew. Had I the chance to go back I would made all the same mistakes over again. How can I do any differently? That means I was meant to be exactly who and where I am. I was meant to be full of regret and sorrow. This is apparently who I am supposed to be. And that’s what I hate.

 

My Place In This World

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I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out where I fit in this world.

Like everyone else on the planet, I’ve daydreamed about being a superhero or a rock star. Whether it’s using a towel like a cape or donning a hairbrush for a microphone, we’ve all fantasized about being in the limelight. And I would say most if not of us have tried it is real life as well. Whether it’s acting in a school play, singing for the talent show, or aiming for the fences in baseball, we’ve all tried to be that amazing actor/ singer/ athlete / comedian/ dancer/ or whatever to secure the attention and adoration from the crowd. Some succeed, and go on to live glory-filled lives, but the rest of us fail to break through the wall of mediocre. Maybe we try something else to see if that’s the hidden jewel, but chances are we are destined to be just another face in the crowd.

I tried to be one of those singer \ songwriters who plays guitar in a coffeehouse with visions of breaking into the music biz. But when I played, people would just stare at me like I was a car accident. My songs may have been decent and my voice acceptable, but I didn’t have the ‘it’ factor is. I was just an eyesore. Fine. I get it. Being a star isn’t me. I’d known it all along anyway. I don’t perform well in front of people. I can’t think straight and get all stupid. But I thought  I would try.

But I didn’t give up. If I can’t be the star, then maybe my place is the sidekick, right? If I’m not Batman, I can be Robin. If I’m not Sherlock, I can be Watson. I can be the trusted / smart / funny half of the hero team. But nope. That’s not me either. Why? Cause every sidekick needs a talent – something to either offset the hero’s weakness or to compliment his style. Otherwise he wouldn’t need a sidekick. Whether it’s being an acrobat like Robin, or smart like Spock, or strong like Chewbacca, a sidekick needs a thing. And I have none. Besides, the sidekick also has to come through in a pinch and save the hero from time to time. And that is definitely not me.

So fine. Skip that. Maybe I’m just a sideman. I’m the supporting character in a movie like the neighbor next door. I may have a few lines but otherwise I’m just part of the plot.  I’m like the bass player in the band. No one notices me or even remembers my name but I’m still important.  The second I stop playing the song sounds weak and empty. So, yes, I’m needed even if I’m stuck in the shadows. In fact, I’ve identified with the bass player most of my life. I even play bass in the band I’m in.  And you know what? And I am okay with that. I’m not the hero, but I’m happy knowing that I am important even though someone else gets all the glory.

But still… something doesn’t feel right. I may play bass in the band, but I still feel like an outsider. When the songs are done and everyone is hanging out having a good time, I feel like a misfit. Oh sure, I put on a happy face trying too hard to fit in. But I still feel awkward. I don’t have the skills to socialize. It’s like a foreign language to me. The more I try to fit in, the more I feel left out. In the end it’s too much work and I’m better off letting them have their fun while I go home alone.

So I guess I’m not the sideman either. So what’s left? Only one thing. I’m like the sound guy. I’m nowhere near the stage. I’m in the back, still contributing but just doing my job and completely ignored. Yes, I make the band sound good but I get no credit for it. I’m not even introduced or acknowledged because I’m just doing my job.

That’s a better fit for me. I’m not the hero like Batman. I’m not the sidekick like Robin. I’m not even a member of the team like Batgirl. In the end, I’m Alfred. I’m the loyal butler who keep things humming along in the background while the hero is out saving the world. It’s a thankless job. Oh sure, he has the respect and perhaps even the love of the hero he is serving, but he has no life and no identity outside of that.  No one else knows he exists. No one cares for Alfred. No one falls in love with Alfred. He never saves the day. He never gets the girl. And he never has his own happy ending.

That’s me. I’m Alfred.

Hope is an evil villain

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You know what I hate?

I hate hope! Seriously. I hate thinking that someday something will happen that will make my whole life worthwhile. For some reason I think my life is a movie and all the mistakes and stupid things I’ve done will pay off with some amazing happy ending. That’ll be when I realize that my life through hell was the right path all along because if I had not gone through that, I would have gotten to this moment where everything finally makes sense.

Case in point. I ran into this girl the other day at work, we’ll call her Brooke. I first met her about a month ago at an internal event. I was running a demo table and she and her friend came up and chatted with me about what our team was doing, I was surprised at how genuinely interested she was in what I had to say. We had a great conversation. It lasted only a few minutes but it was the highlight of my day.

Anyway, I ran into Brooke the other day. She again seemed super excited to see me. And again she seemed totally engaged with me. You know how it is – deep eye contact, open body language, big smiles. Now I don’t know anything about this girl, but I swear she was attracted to me. After a few minutes, she said she had to go but asked if we could get together sometime and talk further. Wait. What? A girl is asking me to get together? This never happens and I mean NEVER. See previous post called “Can I Break The Cycle”

I said okay and walked away on cloud nine. Wow! Here was an amazing, attractive, intelligent, passionate girl that maybe, just maybe is interested in me? Nah, couldn’t be. Seriously couldn’t be. I’m a fuck. Like I said before, girls don’t fall for me. Besides, she seems kinda young. But on the other hand, who cares. I’m mean what if she is interested? Who knows. Maybe she could even be ‘the one’, right? And if my life had not been shit up to this point, I never would have met her. You see? You just have to have a little hope.

Yeah, right.

So I found out she’s an intern here only for the summer and she’s going back to College on the other side of the country in August. Hell, she’s not even old enough to drink yet. I also found out she’s meeting with lots of people. She’s trying to learn as much as she can while she is here so she is setting up meetings with everyone and anyone. She is not attracted to me. I’m not special. Clearly I misinterpreted her enthusiasm. Or maybe I am so damn desperate for attention that I clamped onto the first person that showed any interest.

Damn It! Damn it! Damn It!

So here I was riding high for a whole day, dreaming about what could-have-been. And now I’m crashing and burning. You’d think I’d learn by now. Yes, hope can be a great thing. With hope you can find that happy path to peace. But the crappy thing about hope is that it’s not real. And when reality smacks you in the face and once again that familiar feeling of failure settles in, it would have been better not to have hope in the first place. God, how stupid was I to think that something might happen. My life is not a movie. There is no happy ending and I hate my constant thinking that there may be.

Next day, sure enough, another girl smiles at me as she walks by and I say hi.

 

Damn it! That’s why I hate hope.

Killing The Moment

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You know what I hate?

I hate when I make a comment that I swear is funny or clever and people look at me like I’m the idiot. Why are you all staring at me? That was funny! It was! Wasn’t it? Is my sense of humor so screwed up that no one else thinks what I think is funny is funny? Does everyone think I’m an idiot? This is why it is so hard to be involved. I try to participate. I sit in the group. I pay attention. I listen to the banter and wait for the perfect opportunity to jump in. It’s hard. I would much rather be alone and not interact with people at all. But that’s not possible, so here I am in the thick of it trying to be social and a normal human being. And finally when the opportunity presents itself, I take my shot. I build up my nerve and say a comment that I think is funny and maybe a little bit clever, but then everyone stares at me like I just screamed cancer into the crowd. I don’t understand. What did I say that was so wrong? Everyone else is being funny and silly and saying weird things, but when I do it, I kill the moment and look like a total fool. Then, once again I feel like the outsider. Why do I even try to belong? Everyone knows I’m a misfit. Can we all just agree that I’m the invisible loser. You can ignore me and I’ll stop trying to fit in and we’ll all be a lot happier, won’t we?

Can I Break The Cycle

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You know what I hate? I hate how pathetic I am. I hate how I’ve asked out practically every girl under the sun and they all say no and for some reason I still don’t get it in my head that I’m just not the type of person that girls want. I have nothing to offer them. I have no confidence, I have no personality, I’m not even rich or good-looking. I’m just a wart on the face of society. I mean what girl would want to go out with a guy who hates himself? And then the spiral downward starts. The more I hate myself, the more girls don’t want to be with me. Aaaaaand the more girls don’t want to be with me, the more I hate myself. How can I be that  confidence, positive, outgoing person that girls will like when every rejection casts me into deeper isolation and despair?

I suppose the right thing to do is to stop asking.  I need to understand that no one will want to be with me if I don’t even want to be with myself. I guess that’s true. But there is always that hope right? There is always that glimmer that the next person will be smart enough to see past these concrete walls and somehow see the person I really am even when I can’t see it myself. My hope is they will see it, treasure it, understand it and have the power to coax that good person out me. Would that be awesome? And then I could finally flourish and be the person I see in my mind.

Burt that’s not fair. It’s not fair to put all my expectations on someone else to solve my own problems. Besides, no one else has the power to change me anyway. I need to start with myself first. And there goes another amazing girl and I ache all over again. But it’s better to stay silent and invisible and not say anything.  After all, as long as I don’t ask, they can’t say no and that’s the first step in breaking the cycle.

My Glass-Half-Empty Brain

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You know what I hate?

I hate that I am not a positive person. Seriously. I try to be a positive, but my gut reaction is always negative. It’s like negativity is ingrained in my DNA. I am a glass-half-empty guy. When something bad happens, I can’t see it as an opportunity, instead it again reminds me of how unlucky and pathetic my life is. I interpret life as a bad thing even though I know it is just life being life.

Like my previous post, when I’m driving down the road and the light turns yellow forcing me to stop, I feel it’s the universe being mean to me .When I pick a line at the grocery store and it ALWAYS ends up being the slowest line, I blame myself for picking the wrong line. Or how is it now that McDonalds has two drive-through lanes. I try to pick the one I think is faster, but I inevitably get behind the exact same soccer Mom ordering for the whole team while car after car whizzes by in the other lane. It has to be my fault

I understand that other people have the same problems and somehow it doesn’t affect them. I know it’s just life being life but I can’t help it. I see every mistake and every wrong decision as a reflection of the pathetic worthless piece of crap I am.  I know it should not affect me but that’s my point. They do because I am not a positive person. I clearly have this amazing talent of internalizing all the bad things in the universe and taking the blame for it.

Is easy to say it’s not my fault or it’s just life, but I tell myself that had I been smarter or better I would have made a different decisions, so it has to be my fault. And the fact that I know this is all crazy talk and still I believe it anyway is another thing that I hate myself for. Yep. No one’s fault but mine. So cheer’s to me and glass-half-empty brain.

 

 

The Wrath Of Stoplights

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You know what I hate? I hate stoplights.

It never fails. Seriously, It NEVER fails. When I am driving and approaching a stop light that’s green, I just know I’m not going to make it. I keep approaching, the light stays green,  and I still know I will not make it. I get all the way up to that critical point where you need to decide whether you can stop or not… and the light is still green. And I am amazed! I think “Oh My God, today I may actually make the light! My luck is going to change. Life is wonderful.” Then BAM! The light changes to yellow and now I have to make that split second decision on whether to go through the red or slam on my brakes to stop. Ultimately, I slam on the brakes. Then I sit for the next three minutes at the red light, cursing the whole time because not only did I miss the light like I knew I would, but the light actually made me believe for a moment that life might be good today. I hate the fact that I know exactly how my life is going to go, but every day I am fooled into believing that maybe, just maybe, today my life will change. But of course then reality slaps me in the face again. I am and will always be the same person who never makes the light…

I Hate My Memory

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You know what I hate? I hate my how bad my memory is. I can barely remember anything at all.

I watch movies and like a month later I don’t even remember what happened. Sometimes I don’t even remember that I watched the movie. I mean, sometimes it’s nice because then I can watch it over and be amazed again. But if I get into a conversation about it with someone, I can barely remember any of the details.

And I especially hate sequels. In sequels nowadays, you have to remember what happened in the previous episodes in order to understand anything. When the latest Avengers movie came out, I could barely remember what happened in the previous ones. Or worse, I get confused between those and other movies like Batman, Superman, Xmen, whatever. Do I go and watch the movie and try to figure out what’s going on or do I just watch them all over again on video before I see the new one? But that’s like 7 movies, I have to watch. It takes me forever…

The same thing with novels. I’ve read many of the classics, but I can’t remember what the hell happened in any of them. Year ago, I saw the list of the top 100 novels of all time and I felt bad that I never read any of them, so I decided to start reading them. I’ve actually read quite a few of them but then when I go back and look through the list I don’t remember anything about them. I’ve read slaughterhouse five and brave New World and A Tale of Two Cities,  but I can’t remember anything that happens.

If I have a conversation about a novel, I feel like an idiot because I don’t remember anything that happened. I usually just play dumb and say I haven’t read it and that’s not really a lie. After all, if I can’t remember anything, then I haven’t read it.

I meet people for the first time and they tell me their name and 10 minutes later I don’t remember what the hell they’re name is. And worse I see a week later and of course they remember my name but I can’t freaking remember theirs and I feel like an idiot for asking so I just say hi or how are you and somehow work around not even saying their name at all. After that I feel even worse because every time I see them now I know I don’t remember their name and it just gets worse and worse and eventually I start avoiding them because I don’t want to get caught not remembering their name.

Or I meet people and they tell me like they just had a baby on it was a girl and her name is Sophia and I said that’s really awesome. Then a month later, I’m talking to them and they say something about how their kid was sick and I don’t remember whether they had a boy or a girl or the name or even how many kids they have. I don’t want to feel like a freaking idiot so I don’t ask. Eventually I withdrawal from people all together because I don’t know if I’ll say something stupid or something that I should already know.

I’ll get some error on my computer and then I’ll spend the L3 days look it up on Google how to fix it and then I fix it and it’s like awesome I was able to fix that and then six months later the same error happens again and I don’t remember what the hell I did to fix it like a crap I hate that I don’t remember anything

I don’t remember people’s names and birth dates barely even remember what I had for lunch yesterday. It affects my confidence. How can I have a conversation or even just get through the day with a shit memory like mine? I don’t remember any details. I don’t remember anything.

Sorry, got distracted. What was I talking about?

 

Stepping Aside

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You know what I hate?

I hate it when I’m walking down the street or an aisle in a store and someone is walking towards and I just instinctively move out of the way to let them pass. I do it to be courteous, but what I notice more often than not is they don’t do the same for me. They don’t make any effort to make room for me to pass as well. I’m the one that does all the work. If they are walking down the middle of the aisle, they stay in the middle and I have to scrunch up just to avoid a collision. It’s as if they are royalty and I’m the lowly peasant who needs to grovel as they stroll by.

It’s even worse when there are two or three people walking side by side. They don’t even try to move. They don’t go single file. They don’t even smile and say excuse me. They just keep walking side by side as if I’m not even there. For some reason either they don’t care or they somehow just know that I’m the one who will move.

For the longest time I wondered why they don’t even try to make room. Is everybody just rude and arrogant? Does nobody perform a common courtesy anymore?  And then one day I figured it out. They don’t move because somehow they know I will. From the moment we make eye contact yards away and I start making the move, I must send them some nonverbal message that I’ll concede and they don’t have to do a thing.

In other words, it’s my fault. I must somehow show them that they are more important than I and I just move unconsciously. Oh sure, I tell myself that I’m just being nice, but that is not how I feel. I feel like I am a worthless pathetic loser, a wimp, an quivering fool who does not have enough confidence to look people in the eye as we pass by. And I hate that I just do it without even thinking.

And you know what’s worse? I hate that I even care about it. Why does it bother me whether they move of the way or I do it? We both have to get by, why do I take it as a personal insult or worse, a personal failure to be the one who has to move? Why do I make myself feel like I am inferior because I decide to be nice?  I hate myself for doing it, I hate myself for caring about it, and I hate myself for feeling bad about it.

Shout Out!

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I hate me! I hate me! I hate me! I hate me!

I hate everything about me. I hate who I am. I hate how I look. I hate what I think. I hate how I feel. I hate my history. I hate my job. I hate how I act. I have what I say. I hate what I don’t say. I hate my traits. I hate my fears. I hate my memories. I hate my thoughts. I hate my life. I hate me.

 

So what now?