Enthusiasm

I’m halfway through an article about cyborgs and partaking in a binge to watch as much Criminal Minds as possible, and I worry sometimes that I’m neither daring enough nor smart enough (or accomplished enough, depending on how kind you’re feeling) to achieve the kind of greatness that inspires and captivates, creates and means something.

There are so many things in this world that are interesting and worthy and exciting, and there is no way to do them all. There is no way to see and feel and touch everything that exists in this world. There is no way to start your life over again and again until you’ve tried every philosophy and explored every political thought and tasted all the food in the world.

I can’t wake up every morning and dream up a new person and pour myself into that body and experience what it means to live as a model or a punk rocker or photographer or a software designer. I don’t have time to learn to slaughter animals, and speak Russian and live in Morocco, and still have enough time to visit Hong Kong and eat caterpillar burritos in Mexico and to live in Greece long enough to really be able to say that, yes, I am Greek. I don’t have the guts to have someone cut my finger open without anesthetic to implant a magnet so that I can feel the subways of New York City, which I don’t have time to live in and become a part of, move beneath my feet.

I haven’t figured out how to shed the things I don’t need so that I can live without being hemmed in by stuff. Because I haven’t figured out what I’m prepared to live without.

I read about soldiers going to war and coming home and people who don’t have the option of telling the difference and I cry and I worry that I’m not strong enough to ever go to those places, to live beside these people and tell those stories.

I don’t want to be an FBI agent and yet must find a way to live with the knowledge that I’m not smart enough or driven enough for them to even want me, that I’ve never proved myself to be anything more than a middling average.

How do people make decisions to do or be anything, how do you become out of existing? I can feel the energy and the excitement crackling under my skin, but I can’t figure out where to direct it. There’s so much out there, and I don’t know how to reach out and touch it.

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