Why Isn't Nirvana on My GPS? (6/27/08 Friday)

So, how do I become me? As if I hadn't been asking that question since I was a kid. How do I push that terrified kid behind me and take charge of my life? The best plan I can come up with is to pretend until it becomes natural--that is, give up one pretense for another: pretend not to be the terrified kid but the confident man. What the hell is a confident man? I can't even make eye contact, for god's sake. As close as I've ever been to confident is arrogant, a pretence of confidence. Of course I know change is not as simple as a few tricks and appearances; it's organic. What am I gonna do, start psychotherapy? But I have a feeling that the repair I need is more about letting go than deconstruction and taking possession. Not about forgetting but moving on. And I don't have to know where I am to just go, but I do if I know where I want to go. Where's that? It's that place where I just do the right thing, for no audience, no applause, no credit; with no care for appearances or impressions; where I don't pass judgment, where I feel good for someone instead of envious and cynical; where my eyes and my mind are wide open. Should I know where that place is? How important is it to know that before I embark?

I did not spill the beans last night, though I scrutinized every conversation within earshot for an opening. Even two beers--one of them a 10% stout--was only enough to loosen me up. Indiscretion, apparently, comes into play somewhere around blotto. Maybe I'll try that.