August 23th, 21:53 | I never saw the robot obsession coming though...
It's happening again. I'm reading Coupland and identifying far, far too much with what's being said in the book. Currently working on Girlfriend in a Coma and some observations on personality. He makes the point that a lot of people really don't seem to take much time figuring out who they are. They choose a convenient poster and practice till one day they just really are that person. (The trendy neo-hippie, the scary over-achieving stockbroker, the glitzy jet-set empty glamourpuss, etc.)
I wonder sometimes if I've done something of that sort. Long ago (oh, so very long ago -- back in my easiest-labelled-as-Wiccan days) I painted for myself a picture of who I wanted to be. An ideal phyte to aspire to. And, conscious or not, I have, in a lot of ways, become a lot more like that person. (There are a lot of ways, of course, in which I am woefully not up to scratch, but hey, I'm not that old yet.) It's a weird thing to realize. That in spite of often feeling like I haven't achieved anything, that I haven't learned anything, haven't evolved as a person... I really have.
The question then becomes, of course, is it real? A couple days ago, in a conversation with the boy, I told him that part of why I wanted to be by myself was because I didn't like who I was. I can't fix myself up if I don't have the time to focus on me and see and change things, can I? But... I do like me. At least, parts of me. What really bothers me isn't so much the person that I'm faced with on a day to day basis. It's the lingering feeling that somehow that person is... not actually me. It's just a very convincing shell. But for all my attempts to peel and scratch away at what's there, I honestly can't get to much underneath. My reactions are still the same, the thoughts, the emotional draws. So either I'm a fan-tucking-fastic actress or... I really have become who I am. It's a weird puzzle to be wrestling with.
I'm worried that I will allow my indecisiveness to creep out into and wreak even more havoc in the rest of my life. I hate that I don't know what I want. It's the next thing on my list of things to change. Somehow, knowing that I have changed according to "plan", albeit via methods unknown, gives me hope.
So here's to hoping I'll find more to write about in the future than bizarrely teenaged introspective rambles.
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