An unauspicious start...

I'm not sure when I developed my sense of self-doubt. I'm also not entirely sure when crossed the line from some kind of healthy humility into a darker self-loathing, but, like my Honda's increasingly grudging gear shifts, it seems to be happening with more regularity.

I'm pretty sure it has passed a point of self-parody. I'm almost convinced that those opening sentences are terrible and the blinking cursor on the screen is almost certainly a sign that this whole self-centered project is doomed. I've never been a diarist and so blogging instead seems to be an exercise in vanity. Oh, there are awesome blogs out there that generally aren't, but those writers generally have interesting things to say. Why am I here?

I suppose the conceit is that there will actually be readers and some of those readers may actually say that these thoughts were vaguely interesting or borderline well-written, but, will I even believe them? Probably not. Other people are good writers. I'm just hacking out bad imitations of second-hand ideas. Other people also generally seem to have a handle on their lives. At least, that's my hope. The alternative of everyone having a similar internal narrative is pretty dark.

Maybe the issue is one of clarity. We can love our neighbors and friends and family when we are blind to all of their faults and dark secrets. It gets harder once you start chalking up their flaws. Unfortunately, I know most of my faults and secrets and it is very easy to see them in their crippling terribleness. Of course, even that sounds hopelessly self-centered and unaware. The voice says, "Great, you're terribly neurotic. Combined with your amazing family and friends and stable paycheck and you're ready to commiserate with the billions of humans who suffer in far more painful ways." What's the counter-argument? I can't think of one. So, it must be that I'm just a selfish jerk that fails more often than I succeed. Things aren't so bad that I couldn't be doing a lot more with my life, and yet here we are together.

That's a pretty good thought for 11:30 PM. Small wonder I turn to grand and detailed fantasies to help calm my brain into a rhythm that allows sleep. A lottery win would buy a sweet condo, a Kenmore Elite stove, and a whole bunch of first class airfares.

That lottery win could buy a lot of indulgences, too.