I wish I were more inadequate.

All right, I'll admit that statement is quite arrogant, not to mention short-sighted, merrily overlooking the fact that I am, like everyone I know, an extremely flawed person. Sure, in the T-chart that is I, one can place several items into the PRO side and several items into the CON side. Of course, just as groups debating the importance of tangibles needed for survival following an airline crash in the desert, the importance these aspects of said "I" are vary greatly. You'd be surprised how difficult it is to be smart with impeccable spelling skills--proofreading notwithstanding--and a copious vocabulary, funny, and, if I don't say so myself, not too bad looking. Throw in a dash of tremendous, though unproven, theatrical talent, above-par cooking skills, and other general skills (all in a myriad of areas free from skilled labor), and everything seems great. And, in many and most ways, everything IS great. What, then, could possibly be so troubling?

The short answer is that the trouble stems from being so damn adequate. In retrospect, I endure nothing but difficulty in finding any sort of major failure. Recently, I've been sorting and recycling a lot of old school work, mostly from high school and college, and nearly every paper was free of red ink, most every set of math problems were free of check marks, and, without having the grading rubric as an companion, knowing that a mark existed other than ?+ would be damn near impossible.

The long answer is that, without experiencing any sort of major failure, the very idea of failure is overwhelming. How will I react when this inevitability occurs? Will I, as in my past romantic relationships, either sense the failure coming and terminate the relationship, or will I, not wanting to endure both the guilt associated with hurting another person and the failure of the relationship work to force the partner to break off the relationship, thereby taking no responsibility for its downfall? (Sadly, I've done the latter twice, but each time I have later apologized and admitted total responsibility for the death of the relationship, for what that's worth.) Because failure can come in any area of life, avoidance soon follows. If you fear failure and rejection as failure, why make the effort to meet a lot of people? Why apply for a job without knowing that you have an extremely good chance at being offered the position? Why show everyone just how talented you can be when they can just deny it? Why be logical when irrationality is so much easier to justify your decisions?

I've grown up a lot in the past four years, and I have the crow's feet to prove it, but I really can't say that I've lived much. Living is hard when you spend all your time worrying about your life. You can't give much of yourself when you don't like yourself that much. I'd like be bold and say that all stops now, but I know that's a ridiculous idea. My degrees are currently sitting in a frame from the University of Iowa, while I sit on my brains and play solitaire, do logic puzzles and the number puzzle from the newspaper, and play with the cat. I am, however, committed to working on feeling good about my flaws that I like and working steadily to change the flaws I dislike. I'm optimistic, and that is a great start.