Posts tagged “self-reflection”
My family thinks I take long showers. To settle the debate, I present a minute-by-minute breakdown of my typical morning routine, featuring scalding water, existential crises, conditioner that never rinses out, and significant time lost contemplating personal projects, mortality, and the deceptive packaging of hair care products.
I don't drink, and I'm tired of explaining myself every time I order a lemonade. The real reason is control: losing it terrifies me. But that raises a bigger question: why does everyone else *want* to lose it? I wish I knew what made me so different.
Inspired by a friend posting old photos, I'm sharing an embarrassing collage of myself at 16. My hair was ridiculous then and remains ridiculous now. Also, yes, I dressed as Neo for Halloween. The Matrix had just come out. Don't judge me.
I took the OK Cupid personality test and got four possible results depending on how I answered ambiguous questions. Am I spontaneous or planned? Romantic or horny? I genuinely don't know, so I'm putting it to a vote. People who know me better get more say.
I took some personality tests. Myers-Briggs calls me ENTP, though I hover right on the E/I and P/J axes and get different results each time. The Enneagram warns me against a "sad and shallow life" by cultivating internal values. Charming. High marks for image awareness and detachment seem about right.
I can only love him from a distance. When we're close, I lose sight of what matters; when we're apart, it's all I can see. I've proven myself wrong again and again, and I keep making the same mistake. I am the worst person in the world.
My blog has gotten embarrassingly boring lately. I blogged my lunch twice. Time to browse more, think more, and stop the pedestrian cat-blogging nonsense.
I should really know better.
100 things about me, because everyone else was doing it and I couldn't resist. I blew the "short" requirement completely. Covers everything from being Trinidadian and gay to my Nightcrawler fixation, my terrible eating habits, and why I go by Seldo.
On the dancefloor I feel free, until I catch myself from above and see it for what it is: desperate plumage, bright feathers flashing. I want to be left alone. I want you to fight for me. I don't know why I make it so hard.
A poem wrestling with guilt, shame, and the crushing weight of others' judgment. I question why I internalize their bigotry, why I can't cast it aside, and reckon with a darker truth: I might be just like them if I weren't the one they condemn.
A poem about chasing success only to find it hollow. When you bend your rules to win, does the victory even count? I've compromised my standards, and now I'm winning but it feels like nothing. Nobody cares how you got there. Maybe that's the saddest part.
A poem about feeling peripheral, disconnected from the main event of life. I'm the sideshow nobody notices, clowning through existence, wondering if anything I do matters. The circus rolls on with or without me.
A poem about the unknowable self that lurks within, driving my actions without my consent. I've traveled far but never found myself, and this hidden inner force clouds my judgment, harms those I love, and leaves me pleading for forgiveness from those I've hurt.
I'm only creative when I'm unhappy. Stress and discomfort generate ideas; peace and quiet are just when I execute them. My best creative period was during depression. The problem: creating things makes me happy, which kills creativity. I need resistance to move, and I can't manufacture genuine opposition for myself.
Tired but amused by a surprisingly accurate one-click personality test. Yes, I've taken dozens of these. Yes, I know what that says about me.
