(Self) Defense Wins Championships

The faster the years past the more I realize I'm not what most people think I am. (Which, as all of you probably know, is an asshole of sorts.) My contention, of course, is that I'm simply misunderstood.

Just ask Common.

In high school, it was my sharp tongue. In college, my sharper tongue. Today, it manifests in the crass, sometimes offensive, words I write. At this rate, according to popular opinion, my concern really should be what lava front real estate will be going for in Hell when it's my time.

Lucky for me, we all know what I think of popular opinion.

For the record, though, it's not that I'm an "asshole" just for the sake of being an "asshole." I'm just, well, indifferent. And I'm not talking about always-pretending-I-don't-care-what-people-think-only-to-privately-mourn-my-true-feelings kind of indifferent. I'm talking about Dexter-stabbing-someone-in-the-heart-and-casually-dismembering-their-corpse indifferent.

For real real.

I can already hear the disbelief and see the eye rolling, dear readers, but try to suspend disbelief for a second and hear me out.

This blog isn't a dissertation on my lack of feelings. (Quite the opposite, in fact.) This blog is purely a testament to the level of comfort I've reached in my own skin and the self awareness that goes along with it. My value -- or any perceived value -- is controlled entirely by me. Good, bad, ugly...whatever. And in my experience, while being self aware seems like a noble goal in life, it commonly results in what others mistake as "being an asshole."

Regardless of third party viewpoints, though, I'm the protagonist in my life story being written by me. Not by you. In literary terms, most everyone else in my life serves as a supporting character who's main job is to help me learn on my journey.

Here's an example: the kind of car I drive doesn't add value to my life. I value having one, sure. But the car in and of itself doesn't add value to who I am as a person. (Unless, of course, you're in need of a ride home.) Same thing goes for my best friend. I value him, as a person, but not in a desperate, co-dependent manner.

The point of what seems to be a heaping spoonful of psychobabble, dear readers, is this: take a peek at your life's landscape and see where value lives. If it's in the "stuff" surrounding you than I hope you're fortunate enough to find it living elsewhere in the coming years. However, if you're lucky enough to find it living in the mirror, than you're enjoying the same solace in life I've found.

Or maybe you're just an asshole, too.