Recently I've been raging over my lack of will power. In 2009 I was able to motivate myself due to isolation, now that I'm no longer living as a hermit, I find myself unable to control my bad habits.
Do I once again become a recluse in hopes of regaining my iron fists or do I continue to dissapoint myself?
Seems like one of those damned if you do, damned if you don't sort of deals... "Between a rock & a hard place."
I'm not a creature of solitude. I crave living contact in any form over the mundane existence of a life of anonymity, no matter how rewarding it may seem.
I just remembered an event that took place my freshman year of college. I was at an appointment with my mother, whose got this uncanny ability to strike up a converstion with the most obscure people, when the woman who was assisting her suddenly fixed her gaze on me. She went on to tell me how I should forsake friendships in exchange of education.
According to her, it was better to be sucessful than to value friendships. In her words, "There'll be time to make friends later." Seeing that woman, gloating behind her desk at a WIC office in Red Hook, I knew I'd never want to be her, so confident in the depressing advice she'd passed onto an impressionable teenager.
I can't imagine giving up friendship for success. In some paralelle world, there is a version of myself that took that her recommendations to heart. Who is this other me? Is she happy?
I hope that I'll never know her.
I have too much love in my heart to not share it with the world.
I guess I already know where I stand.
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