More about me.
After a conversation with Chelsea earlier I am now in the mood to reveal more of my deep dark inner secrets to the world. Those with a weak heart should look away now.
First of all, I'm back in little old Leam. That's because I had things to do around here and on campus before term started. I forgot about the new year holidays and that everything will be closed for a few days. Bugger.
Secondly, in the words of one of my great dreams "I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared". This time it is not relating to the very strong likelihood of imminent death, but to my attitude towards life in general. I have, I admit, led a very sheltered life and thus there are a lot of thing that I have no first-hand knowledge of that most of my contempories have. I am scared of many things. Almost everything, in fact. But there are two things I'm scared of more than anything. One is the possibility that when put in a high-stress life-or-death situation I'll fly off the handle, do something reckless and end up getting a lot of people in one whole lot of trouble. The other is the possibility that I won't.
My third point was going to be about hope, but I shall postpone that to the fourth point, as I've just been struck by an inspiration which I am unwilling to commit to permanent record until I've worked out some of the details, but I feel is promising enough to warrant a paragraph stating that it has interrupted my thought processes.
So on to point four. Hope. I am, despite my best intentions, an optimist. I have hopes. I have dreams. Being blessed/cursed with having experienced no severe hardship, I have an undentable faith that "it'll be fine" (which has never been proven wrong yet). Yet I see hope as a bad thing. I imagine the future as a bright glowing place, and the universe's repeated and willful failure to live up to my expectations is rather demoralising.