I have been doing a lot of introspection lately.
I find that I am an odd duck. Well, odder than most. It seems that I crave the attention of any other latchkey child turned internet attention whore, but I feel unable to actually attempt to do the work to get it.
It’s like this: I am technically a genius. I say “technically” because I can put the numbers on the board, but I rarely do, mostly because I find that it just brings on more trouble than it is worth. This is because members of my family, while usually quite caring and such, have the really annoying habit.
They think that just because I use big words, I can do all the shit they can’t do. Even worse, when I am unable to do those things to satisfaction, they look at me like I shot up a classroom or something. It never seems to sink in that I can’t simply pick up a topic and know it immediately, or even if I could, that I would even want to.
Look, I don’t know accounting alright? I didn’t go to school for that, and for a good reason: I HATE ACCOUNTING! I thought bookkeeping was what all those librarians were pissed at me for! The extent of my knowledge of the accounting profession is: if you can’t pay someone, buy Quickbooks. There. That is all I know. And that is pretty much all I want to know, BECAUSE I DON’T GIVE A SHIT!
That goes for the following:
Web Site Design (beyond the basics)
Charter Bus Services
ANY AND ALL TYPES OF BUSINESS MANAGEMENT. I HAVE SEN WHAT IT TAKES TO OWN A BUSINESS, AND I DON’T WANT TO OWN A GODDAMN BUSINESS. FUCK OWNING A BUSINESS. YOU JUST FUCKING PAY ME, AND YOU GET YOUR WORK DONE. I DON’T CARE ABOUT BEING AN ENTREPRENEUR. I DON’T WANT TO BE THE MALE OPRAH. I DON’T GIVE A SHIIIIIIITTTTT!!!!
Now look. This doesn’t mean I don’t have dreams. But nobody gives a shit about my dreams. No, let me correct that. If I have a dream, then I must be able to explain exactly how I am to achieve this dream in a reasonable amount of time, and how it would benefit the person I am speaking to, oftentimes my dad.
Oh God, my dad. I have expressed my….displeasure with his sense of “helping” me before. And the more I think about it, the more I realize exactly how much he screwed me up. Through extensive research into my past, I have discovered that my dad has been either wholly responsible or somehow involved in every traumatic psyche-shaping event in my life. From my fear of swimming to my fear of failure, he had some part in it.
Does it make any sense to require that your child explain, in detail, how playing RPGs and/or video games are going to make said child rich and successful? It is if I wanted to play a game of flag football with my friends, and the only way I could was to spell out my plans to get into the NFL. It is stupid, it is selfish, and it is emotionally scarring. Parents, please, let your kids have fun. They are FUCKING KIDS. They have no idea what the hell they want to do with their lives. They are supposed to explore that as FUCKING KIDS. They play and pretend so that they can understand the world and themselves. Just because I could read at two years old (note: I did this so I could order my own goddamn Happy Meal and make sure they had the right toy in it), it doesn’t mean that I am some exploitable commodity who has to justify his worth. Or, maybe I am. It is what he taught me, apparently.
And from there, came my fear of failure, and by extension, my lack of desire to try anything new. Why would a person want to risk looking bad or not being successful if they have someone harping on how much I need to be successful? All it does is make a person only want to stick with the safe and easy. The things they know they can’t mess up. By demanding this person justify their ambitions, you pretty much kill any ambition they have. Nobody wants to follow a dream if they have to keep explaining why they even have it.
Thank God I was never a child star. I probably would have made Gary Coleman look like Dakota Fanning (who, as of yet, I have never seen to be all that crazy for a kid star. I don’t get why so many people seem to want her screwed up, and in the same breath, complain about Lindsay Lohan. You people are fucked up.).
Okay, I am rambling, and really, I don’t know if anyone is going to find this worth reading in the least. I just wanted to put something down on this blog, if only to start breaking the habit. I don’t like being afraid of change, and I really do want this to take off. So I am going to force myself to write something, anything, every day and put it on this site. It may not make too much sense at the time (ADHD is like that), but at least it will be something different. And who knows, you might just like it.
Just don’t tell my dad. I don’t want to have to explain this.
Powered by ScribeFire.