9:57 p.m. - July 01, 2002
Accretion of self is diminuative of skill
Had lunch with my mother today and again, not so bad; this time, she brought a photo album per my inquiry and we spent time looking at pictures of me that I do not remember at all other than blurry recollections of disparate faces and places.
Turns out I have either Spanish or Italian blood in me after all; my mother's biological father was one or the other.
The things you didn't know about yourself.
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It is not easy for me to catalogue my shortcomings, but it is an assignment from my counselor that I create a list of self-perceived failures, and then I am to counter them with facts and thus internalize discrepancies, with the result that I distinguish between fact and unrealistic expectations.
My list is pathetic when I look at it and I think How stupid can I be to even write these things down, but it's true, this is how I feel.
I am emotionally immature.
I am stupid.
I am naive.
I am neither friendly or unfriendly.
I am ugly.
I am meanspirited.
I am miserly.
I am distrustful.
I am impulsive.
I think too much about nothing.
I obsess over everything unimportant.
I am lazy.
I am condescending even when I don't want to be.
I am shallow and superficial.
I do not please my parents.
I do not please myself.
I fail at most things.
I am not successful.
I am not happy.
I am not attractive, handsome, or even passably good-looking.
I am selfish.
I am manipulative.
I seek the approval of others.
I am a pussy.
I am dumb.
I don't understand jokes or what OIH means.
I am not patient enough.
I am not talented.
I am not an artist, writer, or interesting person.
I am not multi-talented.
I can't sing.
I can't skateboard.
I can't be normal.
I intimidate others to remain in control.
I am a terrible person.
I'm alive but I do not live.
I lack all street skills or know how. Pop culture is foreign to me.
I'm never au courant; I dress warm when it's sunny out, and freeze when it's cold.
I don't know music.
I lack passion and interests.
I am a Schadenfreude.
I am a flat, not round, character.
I do not get along with my peers.
Presented like this, how can anyone not roll his eyes and think Of course no one is that bad, proceed to lay out the facts, and move on to the next exercise having developed what is apparently positive self-perception in light of Peception A and Reality B. For each Reality bit, there's a But. Yeah, okay, I'm not ugly in that I'm deformed or misshapen; that is fact; but I'm ugly. Do you see how that works? I'm miserly yet give money away; that is fact; but I maintain records for tax purposes; so then I really am miserly. But. But. But. Grrrrrrrr.
It's a process, I know. It's unpleasant yet what I want. I want to be ok. I want so much.
