One thing I do every spare moment of my life is think. I don’t know why I think so much. Perhaps it started when I was a child and I couldn’t understand why things were the way they were. I don’t remember thinking too much before the age of nine. I just acted and reacted. I lived, I played, I observed. I began thinking really hard somewhere along the way and I have literally never stopped.
One thing that continually occupies my thought processes is how to perfect myself. I realize this is narcissistic, but its what I have always done. I have always tried to be a better person. I don’t necessarily mean I have desired to be this globally aware, peace corps type of imitation Mother Theresa. Its more selfish than that and somewhat more shallow. I have always tried to be perfect on a personal basis. Yeah, pretty much for myself alone. I have read every self-help book ever written. As I sit at my desk and write this I can look up to my book shelf and pick out close to 50 titles from the self-help genre. Let’s see, there’s Outsmarting the Midlife Fat Cell, Re-creating Yourself, Do One Thing Different, Bad Childhood, Good Life, The Best Year of Your Life, Taking Care of Me, What We Ache For, Fit Not Fat at 40 Plus, When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies, Body Defining, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Take Time for Your Life, The Woman’s Comfort Book, Something More, Being Perfect, The Dark Side of the Light Chasers, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, Self Matters, Strength Finder 2.0, When Food is Love…The list goes on and I have more in my bedroom and living room and perhaps one or two in the bathroom (and the many I lent to friends and never saw again). Its really crazy. Its just my THING.
Ironically, I have always wanted to write a book. My self-help-writing books tell me to write what you know, what you love…well, its isn’t fiction honey! (Although, I do LOVE fiction, I am an English major and I adore literature). I would like to write a self-help book. Sad, but true. I could use the 100+ titles I have read over the years and extrapolate all those little nuggets that have mulled around inside of my brain, no doubt perfecting me all these years, and use them to create the ULTIMATE self-help book. This would be the only self-help book anyone would ever need! It would be the Bible, the Koran and the Tao te Ching of all self-help books! After my book hit the stands there would never be another one written. It would put an end to everyone’s need to ever purchase another! Oprah would be interviewing Eckhart Tolle no longer. (Oh, I just remembered the hundreds of self-help titles on MP3 that I have downloaded and listened to in the car or while jogging (another way to perfect yourself is to infuse your brain with a constant flow of information). I would be the GURU of all self-help knowledge and have followers from every corner of the world.
Somehow in the back of my mind I realize that my objective to perfect myself is really in vain. I know it is futile. I am already as imperfect as I’ll ever be and that’s as perfect as it gets. No one is going to love me more. The gates of heaven will not open just to receive me. My children will not suddenly worship me. I may write a self-help book one day, in fact, I think all my little writings are a compilation of my own book; my own story. I don’t know who they’ll ever help, however, but at least they help me put life into perspective and get some thoughts off my chest. You know what else helps? Drinking alcohol. :)
