Note: If you’re reading this from Twitter, and you notice someone else on Twitter wondering where I am, kindly point them this way. This is in the unlikely event that anyone gives a shit. Comments aren’t closed but I get so much spam and ignore it they might as well be.
I have noticed that I have failed to meet every goal I’ve set for myself in a long while. I’ve even lost track of how long this is going on. I’ve let people around me down; I’ve let myself down. I haven’t lived up to the standards I had set for myself, and what success I’ve had has been because I’ve bungled my way into it. Were I at the top of my game it would be ten fold or greater because there would be a captain at the helm, not a drunken lech of a pirate.
Some time ago I would set a goal, with a time frame, and then I would meet it on time or early, and feel great about it. Now I take the easy way out, or go for the small task. The problem with that is the eternal nature of many small tasks leaving the few big ones untended. This has hampered a great deal of my life and squandered a lot of time and potential joy.
There are a few blogs I will continue to follow, and perhaps comment more on. I may keep up with a bit of people on Twitter — if I can make myself stay focused. If not I will cease until such a time that my self control has returned. I’ve had my last drink. It would be easy blame my lack of effort and my general mental malaise on my knee surgery; that certainly seems to be the impetus behind most of it. But that’s a weak way out: I’ve been given ample opportunities in life and I have not made the best of them. I’m ashamed of myself and my behavior, the time I’ve wasted for nothing other than fleeting fun, dust in the wind.
What I have become is not who I am, nor who I was meant to be.
We all have demons and we all have choices. After crawling out of a pit many years ago I became complacent; to paraphrase Bane, victory cost me my strength. I had been miserable, depressed, angry, and bitter. Then there was the light, and I climbed up into it. After a while in the light I just sort of assumed everything would roll my way. When the road got bumpy I ignored it: I’ve won already, this is time to cruise. When the road got really bumpy, I became miserable, depressed, angry, and bitter. I covered for it with a great many lies, and foolish pursuits. I became the goofball jester I have been on Twitter; I beclowned myself. This isn’t me; it never was. It was a mask I wore.
I’ve referenced it once or twice but before I got together with my wife I was a world champion White Knight and in the worst possible way, while at the same time trying to be what I’ve variously used as a blog sub-title over the years: “The Jack Bauer of Assholes” “A typical, bitter white person” (the latter a play on a pair of ridiculous and stupid Obama quotes that should have disqualified him from holding any office, if the 57-states one wasn’t enough). Then, around that time, I realized the bullshit of my ways and took the armor off. I didn’t paint it black; I just quit, I assumed I had traded in the sword for a crown. After years of being a complacent king I saw a shiny jester hat as a way out of some things stressing me out. My knee, which crippled my efforts towards getting into shape. That bitterness poisoned everything about me including my behavior and the Comedy/Tragedy masks I made seemed a good idea. I was always good at funny, at being a lovable smart-ass.
Fuck that. Someone else can have this hat. I’ll be funny on my own terms. I’m not a playing card or something that pops out of a box and makes babies laugh.
I’m a damn wolf, a Grey Knight.