2001-03-07 - 2:29:13 PM

An Obnoxious Parody of a Dear Friend

Mer wrote an entry in her diary yesterday that struck me as (to use a term that I fear will offend the dear bear) silly. Then I thought a little more and realized that everyone has moments of self-loathing and everyone needs an outlet for them. We shouldn't pick on them for it. And then I thought, "Why only self-loathing?"

So now I'm going to go the other direction and reveal the true me that I'm too embarassed to share with me friends. Yes, I'm parodying Mer, but I'm doing it with love in my heart.

Part of me wants to come clean, and talk about all the ways in which I'm a perfect person. Part of me just doesn't want to expose myself that much. I know that if my friends all got together and discussed me, they would probably have a complete view of what a wonder I am. But that doesn't happen, and I live in the sadly sure knowledge that Julie knows things and Mer knows things and Splash knows things and Marc knows things, and each one of them only has a small piece of the view of my immense inner beauty with no real picture of the circumference. Is that good or bad or just how people are? I don't know. My guess is, that this is how people are. We never reveal our whole souls to one other person because we don't want them to feel bad by comparison or try to rape us.

Oh, sure, I'm probably wrong. I'm sure that there are folks out there who have full disclosure with their loved ones, and their loved ones can handle it. Perhaps I'm not giving my loved ones enough credit. Perhaps I'm not giving myself enough credit-- c'mon, I'm 28 years old, I don't think I've ever done very much that was obviously better than everyone else around me (let's see... I won a state championship once, and I'm a good dad even though I spent the first 26 years of my life hating everyone under 15). I lived my first 8 years as a rather obnoxious child, and even when I was sort of whole-heartedly embracing a good-boy ethic, I was mostly good in the usual boring ways.

So, I don't know. Maybe I should just let my diary know all about how wonderful it is to be me. After all, web sites can't be jealous, can they?

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