8:51 p.m. - February 09, 2003
Iím tired of feeling in a constant state of slipping (slippage?) when everything is indeed right-set and itís me whoís walking funny. Tonight there was a moment when my sister, the Great Idiot, and myself went to the grocery store (sister cooked dinner) and the Great Idiot made straight for the cereal isle and I put my arm out to stop him and said No, always begin at the left and he looked at me and said No matter what your sister says, youíre crazy. Donít children and idiots see past the obscure and call things for what they are? I donít know whatís going on, Iím feeling disenfranchised from myself. Sister held up bottles of salad dressing Which do you like best? as if I were a child or a simpleton or both and I thought Have I been medicated and donít know it, or am I always like this? But recall, my self-medicating takes the form of school and projects and books and thatís dandy as ever; my paper due tomorrow is perfect and I am satisfied and I will aptly demonstrate that I can hold my own in literature as well as linguistics and cognitive science and I will not yawn while doing so. A vague remembrance of conceit and confidence, there, but it belies the worry that I will be outdone by my peers and someone Ė two, three, four Ė will think Why the hell is this dufus amongst us? and the query will be justly pondered. I donít want to shine, I want to illuminate, but often I feel I expend everything like the supernovae, a poof! of brilliance and fading glory afterwards.
Damn. I need outside validation too much.
I worry Iíll never achieve contentment and the worry tires me more than the pressing on without a map and zero clue of where to place my feet.
Erratic sleep again.