Sunday, February 15, 2009

I guess that what I'm trying to accomplish with this rant is to convey that arrogance is stupid, and although I've criticized arrogant, egotistical people in the past, I am just as deserving of my own judgement. What was it Shakespeare said? "Methinks the lady doth protest too much." And the old cliche about how we tend to dislike in others what we dislike about ourselves? Maybe there is more accuracy in that cliche than I had originally believed.

But I'm no closer to an answer, am I? I'm still not good at appreciating people who are very different than me. I'm about as good at remembering that people have many hidden talents as I am at remembering that the jerk who cut me off on the freeway might be speeding home to a sick child. Right. I just flip him off and let fly a blue streak. Obviously, these are things I need to work on. I sit here in my beautiful Noosa Apartment and I still manage to complain about everything.

And that reminds me...

So why the hell am I keeping an online journal, anyway? To demonstrate my wit, wisdom and charm? *guffaw* I dunno...I've thought a lot about this, and have been terrified for the longest time that that was the depth of my motivation. Yuck. And perhaps that *was* the depth of my motivation at first, though I didn't realize why.

Sometimes, people need to have their better qualities reflected in a healthy way. It just happens that I've needed more of this kind of reflection than I probably should have, due to lots and lots of skeletons in closets, baggage from the past, etc. Keeping an online journal was a way to get some validation for how I feel about things, to vent with relative safety, to get encouragement. I don't think that's inherently bad. My motivations have, however, changed over the years. I remember when I had a flat in Italy, I use to sit and have a glass of wine with a slice of pizza and write in my journal like I was talking to a lover. I would pour my heart and soul underneath the Venice sun and weep and laugh into my journal as it held all my secrets.

This journal is a way, as I've mentioned before, to practice writing and keep the creative juices flowing. It gives me the satisfaction of creating something from nothing. It's also tremendously cathartic, even though I rarely write about anything intensely personal.