Being Who I Am
What you are is all you have.

I'm reading this disgusting book, and the people in it...  I'm horrified.  No, I'm angry.  I'm angry because what the people in this book do, what they subject themselves to, the way they inhibit themselves is so...  Fuck there's no word I can think that wraps up concepts like pathetic, backwards, senseless, and horrifying into one single adjective.

Let's propose a question:  Why would you pretend to be someone you are not?

Unless you are a trained actor, there can only be a reasonable number of logical motivations to engage in such an act.  You might pretend to be someone else because you hate who you are, or worse you don't know who you are.  Or maybe who you are is so low, meaningless, and hollow that  you have to mask that in order to function.  Corollary to that, maybe you just simply want to deceive someone.  You want to lie. 

And you can make up whatever mindless, drivel, bullshit excuse you want.  It is still a lie. 

Not like I'm perfect.  I lie all the time. Especially to my parents, my family, employers, colleagues, sometimes even to friends.  I hate to do it, but sometimes it's necessary.  I'm no better, but I don't lie about being who I am.



Finished summer school classes today.  No reason to think I didn't make 2 A's.  Did lots of writing for those classes in such a small time period, and it feels good to have worked.  I wish the classes were still going on.  I want to write more. 

What I don't want is to go home, but I pretty much have to.  Grandparents are expecting me, they apparently feel obliged to visit with me, even though they know absolutely nothing about me.  I do prefer it that way.  The only thing saving this excursion is a chance to hang out with friends and get legitimately, inexcusably, furiously, righteously, Vikingly drunk. 

For my finale...

The Dialogue of the Past Two Centuries:

Do I really look like a man with a plan, Harvey? I don't have a plan. The mob has plans, the cops have plans. You know what I am, Harvey? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do if I caught one. I just do things. I'm a wrench in the gears. I hate plans. Yours, theirs, everyone's. Maroni has plans. Gordon has plans. Schemers trying to control their worlds. I am not a schemer. I show schemers how pathetic their attempts to control things really are. So when I say that what happened to you and your girlfriend wasn't personal, you know I'm telling the truth.  It's a schemer who put you where you are. You were a schemer. You had plans. Look where it got you. I just did what I do best: I took your plan and turned it on itself. Look what I have done to this city with a few drums of gas and a couple bullets. Nobody panics when the expected people get killed. Nobody panics when things go according to plan, even if the plans are horrifying. If I tell the press that tomorrow a gangbanger will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will get blown up, nobody panics. But when I say one little old mayor will die, everyone loses their minds! Introduce a little anarchy, you upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I am an agent of chaos. And you know the thing about chaos, Harvey? It's fair.