Once, when I was deep in the belly of self-doubt and (not coincedentially) working at Ingles, a coworker of mine said that being around me made him feel better about himself. Seems my complaining about my life made his troubles seem miniscule by comparison.
I promptly ran a stake through him and feasted on his entrails while he watched.
I kid, but that was one of those "watershed moments" that people like me who ponder where the phrase "watershed moment" came from have from time to time, when we realize that maybe we're gloomy Gusses because, well, we like it. It gives us some meaning in our life, a defining characteristic. Granted, a defining characteristic that doesn't get us invited out to parties much, but a definition nonetheless.
I've always thought that depression, alcoholism, and bitting sarcasm were passed down genetically in my family. Lately I've become sensitive to that (see my small rant about the no-good awful Thanksgiving I experienced). I don't want to pass on two of the three to any hypothetical children I may have in the future, provided I can trick a woman into loving me. The sarcasm has to die with my generation...
Some people get religion to help them get over themselves or get out of their own way, and that's fine. If it works for you, more power to you. I just have too much experience as a doubter of God being "Super Jesus, fixer of all problems!" to accept any such defintion. It's not that I don't believe in God (though sometimes I wonder), I just don't feel like the old boy has had the greatest track record when it comes to me.
Though, as a believer in free will, I accept the contradictory statement that, if my life sucks, I can do something about it. Why say "God, get me a pony" when I can simply go out and steal one?
Not that I've ever wanted a pony...
The fact is, feeling sorry for myself is part of my nature, and I think that's passed down through the genes. One family member who shall remain nameless (my grandmother) always cries at family gatherings because one or more family members (lately my mother) aren't in attendence, and of course this is despite the fact that everyone else is there.
I've felt the same way when, on accepting an invitation to hang out with some friends, the one that I'd like to see (usually a girl on whom I might be crushing that week) is not there, and it has spoiled what would otherwise be a perfectly nice time. Hell, I went to Clemson home games for the better part of two seasons on the bastardized hope that someone I liked might be there (if she was, I couldn't make her out in all the orange. Maybe if she'd been wearing orange...). I'm not proud of that, but I did get to hang out with a great bunch of friends, none of whom I wanted to sleep with.
Of late, I've felt a little adrift, like my surrogate family is nonexistent (friends whom I've not seen for a while, former co-workers who, once I no longer work there, I don't connect with on the same or any level), and this has on occasion bummed me out. Maybe that's why we have social networking and navel-gazing personal websites that we force on our friends; connections are important, and if you feel like your connections aren't connected well, you lose some sense of who you are. I know that, a year ago at this time, I was part of a close group of work-buddies, one of whom I wanted to sleep with (seems to be a recurring trend, perhaps a psychologist could help me look into that). When I got fired, that network started to come apart a little, mostly because I was hurting from being fired and not sure if being around them would make me happy or sad (answer: a little bit of both). I do know that, to some extent, I'm still angry about being fired (even as I type this in the very library I once called home, I can't help but feel like leaving a small piece of paper or some insignificant piece of trash to register my presence and disapproval some six months later), but I don't think I'd bring this up constantly if I were to hang with my old crew again.
As far as making anyone else feel better about themselves because of my example, I really don't want to do that anymore. For every time I feel down about things, I need to remember how fucking lucky I am, even if I'm not where I want to be. I still have the option, so long as I don't give in to the prevailing notion that I shouldn't bother (thanks, family) or that I can't do anything with whatever gift I've got (me, after reading one too many biographies of artists or athletes blessed but too lazy to develop their gifts).
When I was young, I got into the Beatles big-time, and especially John Lennon (same birthday, and I have the sneaking suspicion that he's my dad despite all evidence to the contrary). Turns out we both grew up minus a pater familias, by mothers who turned to other family members to help, and we both enjoyed lazy doodling instead of paying attention in school (though, in my defense, I was able to get good grades in spite of this). From an early age, I read a lot, and this translated into "Trevor is smart!" in my family, leading me to believe that yes, I was indeed a genius.
I have had occasion to question just how smart I am, because I also inherited a little of my family's legendary stubborness (which is amusing because my grandmother doesn't or won't see how much I'm just like her when it comes to that). If I don't want to do something, I won't. Or I'm too scared to do so. And more often than not, this has been the source of all my troubles.
I don't know what the new year brings, other than me walking away from my part-time weekend job (because of the full-time gig, which means I have my weekends free after January 2. Ladies, call me!) and looking for something where I can get paid to write, because that's the skill I have that can be developed into a career (my talent for juggling two objects at a time nonwithstanding). I don't even know if the friends I have now will be the friends I have a year from now, based on just whatever happens (usual suspect: drifting apart). I do know that I'll try and work on myself a little every day, so that I might be satisfied with what I achieve or fail to achieve when the day is done. Also, I would like to think that I could own a pet and not have it die on me (all evidence to the contrary).
Whatever the future holds, I have one. It's the finding out what that is that's the big story.
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