Repost: There’s something called ‘too much information’ and this is probably it…

I was going to write something original tonight, but then I realized I’ve got plenty of old material, and just about all of it still applies. And that’s the problem. I could pull something I’ve written from 4 years ago, 8 years ago, 15 years ago, even 20 years ago, and it wouldn’t sound much different. Any rambling wallowing I’ve done in here has just echoed things I’ve written privately to myself. There’s nothing new for me to say. If I’m being too revealing at this moment, or in any moment previously, it’s because I don’t care about the consequences. In early 2011, someone thought I should be part of some science conference’s panel of patient bloggers. It was an ultimately humiliating experience, as I sat there like an idiot for an hour without being asked a question while pompous windbags droned on and on. Worse, that someone blogged about how “David S–aka Toastie–a resident of Raleigh-Durham” would be part of this panel. Now that’s stuck on Google. And I hate that. But I digress…

Anyway, so I’m regurgitating a post from over four years. I’ll add some August 2012 comments in italics.

Originally posted May 23, 2008…

Me and Aremid 2008.05.22Ok, here’s the deal, World. I spend just about every night damning myself for not having done anything to make myself a better person over the past 24 hours. I lament the coming of the next morning, because I do not see it as a chance to start anew. Reason tells me I will be unable to achieve anyhing beyond more of the same, which, at best is something approaching meaningless mediocrity.

Now, imagine that I’ve spent another four years doing this.

I have had one defining goal for most of my life, and I have disastrously, pathetically failed to come close to achieving it, and with each passing day, cold, hard facts and reason dictate that this goal is more impossible than it was the day before.

Four-years-more-impossible now.

However you want to characterize my way of thinking, my skewed view of the world, of my myself, it seems unlikely there exists a force that can change this. I can guarantee that I’ve tried or considered just about all advice that anyone has ever offered. No science nor faith nor therapy nor anything else has ever helped.

I’ve tried plenty more over the last four years.

It is a bad idea on many levels to try to summarize a lifetime of hurt into one hastily-written public blog posts. I’m doing it to move past this awkward moment in the life of this blog.

The entire life of this blog has been an awkward moment.

I truly do despise this blog sometimes. As I’ve said many times, I don’t know what the purpose of it really is. I don’t want to be someone with nothing interesting to say, but I constantly find myself being someone with nothing interesting to say. Sometimes, this is my only connection I feel to the world, though. Geez, God, that’s pathetic! Yes, I know this.

I fooled myself into thinking this was a connection to the world. It’s really not.

The “social web” is a horrible invention for someone like me. Take an introvert with considerable social anxiety and low-esteem, and the social web is not a collection of tools to suddenly give one’s life meaning. Rather, it gives one a constant 24/7 reminder of what is lacking, of how one is deficient.

It’s even worse now.

I hate Twitter. There, I said it. I hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it. I will say no more with regard to that. Strike that; I’ll say more. I don’t hate it because I find it repulsive that people post about the candy bar they just ate and think others care. I hate it because I actually want to post about the candy bar I ate…but only if I know someone else cares. Chances are, if you have 50 or 100 or 500 or 1000 connections, someone actually gives a damn that Dark Chocolate Milky Ways are awesome. If I “tweet” something like that, I immediately ask myself, “Now why the hell do I dare think anyone has any remote interest in that? How presumptuous am I?”

I don’t spend a whole lot of time hating Twitter.

And the same can be said of anything I stick on my blog. Honestly, if I was hanging out “in real life” with people who gave a crap what I had to say on a regular basis throughout each day, day in and day out, I wouldn’t have any reason to blog at all. Blogging, tweeting, whatever, are substitutes for physical connections that don’t exist.

This is a tad extreme.

The social web is bull…unless you are one of the many people for whom it is not bull, and it is, in fact, a natural extension of what is already a thriving “real-life” social network.

It’s not bullshit, but, like alcohol, it just magnifies your natural state.

Anyway…back to my initial point. I am not happy. I have not been happy in a very long time. The window I have for attaining this evasive happiness is shrinking rapidly. I think it is extremely uncommon for an unhappy person entering the stage of physical deterioration that I’m about to go through to manage to become a happy person. My guess is that someone with my tendencies is likely to completely break in the face of what’s ahead for me. Heck, I’m probably already just about at that point.

I haven’t completely broken. I just teeter endlessly near that breaking point.

BUT YOU HAVE A NEW KIDNEY NOW!

Yes, and Dick Cheney got a new heart. Point?

Perhaps this would be a good time to break out a couple of short lists that are in my wallet, lists that couple of well-meaning people came up with once upon a time. The crux of my existence is, perhaps, that I am unable to embrace, much of the time, the points in these lists. (I can’t see myself how others see me, something like that). Now, it is debatable how true any of these are. These represent how, supposedly, others see me (at least the positive traits, since to remember those was the point of lists).

List #1: What Dave Has Going For Him:
– have job
As usual, I job I LOVE (sarcasm)
– homeowner
I’m a lousy homeowner
– college-educated
And the still-present debt to go with it
– kind to animals
Well, yes, here is this
– environmentally conscious
I don’t care anymore. After two hybrids, my next car will be I enjoy driving.
– non-smoker
Geez, this friend was really reaching.
– respectful
Geez, this friend flat-out doesn’t know me.
– honest
Not sure that this is such a plus.
– good sense of humor
I can’t tell how much my sense of humor has gotten me laid over the past four years. No, I’ll tell you. It’s every other day. I’m a regular Dane Cook.
– financial future
Oh, I remember which friend this was. She had no clue.
– sincere
Whatever.
– enjoys arts
When I actually find someone to enjoy arts with, which is virtually never
– creative
If this true, I’ve sure been wasting it
– hopeful
I suppose this is true, if the definition of hopeful is that I hope to wake up in the morning, because I do, even if I always want to go right back to sleep.
– loyal group of friends
Not loyal enough to stay single and never date. Kidding.

List #2: Why Dave Is Great:
– sweet
If I ever was, I’m certainly not anymore.
– thoughtful
If I ever was, I’m certainly not anymore.
– intelligent
If I ever was, I’m certainly not anymore.
– intuitive
If I ever was, I’m certainly not anymore.
– funny
Ok, I’m still funny
– quirky
Yeah, I’m a regular Zooey Deschanel.
– generous
Not that generous.
– sensitive
A butterfly flaps its wings on Mars, and I flinch.
– caring
Maybe sometimes.
– giving
Maybe sometimes.
– conscientious
Maybe sometimes.
– self-aware
I don’t want to be self-aware

I have had a refrain the last few years, whenever I’ve gotten the “you’re a great guy sentiment”…

Clearly, I’m not quite great enough.

Four years later, I don’t even get the “you’re a great guy” sentiment.

And then there’s the list I could make of the 384 reasons why Dave is clearly not great. I’m supposed to try to sanitize these, maybe even sweep them under the rug, when going out into the world to try to connect with people. I don’t do this very well, if at all.

Even worse now.

So…in conclusion…No, I am not ok. I am, from day to day, more likely than not, not ok. That sort of blunt expression will gain you no favorable contacts, I am aware.

In conclusion, I am still not ok.

I am acutely aware of how alienating and awkwardness-inducing my authentic self can be.

Still acutely aware.

So…(don’t really know when this will really be in conclusion)…I don’t know what I should or will write about in this blog. Until I say something to the contrary, I’m aware there is no compelling reason for anyone to read anything here. I am aware that this post, itself, exists for the purpose of potentially gaining some sympathy. Shit, I want someone to write me and say, “Actually, you’re really, really, really great!” Who doesn’t? Honestly, who doesn’t? (Yes, I know some people actually have real content 95% of the time, and they write in order to communicate important facts and opinions to the community and not in the hope that someone will tell them how awesome they are. And maybe I shouldn’t speak for the rest of the blogoshere. Maybe there are some who completely don’t care what anyone else thinks….in which case, why bother at all?

So…no comments…I think I’ve just jumped the shark enough for now…

This blog jumped the shark before I even started it.

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