Vanity doesn't get to me these days. Besides getting used to the usual worked-up face I see in the mirror every morning, the dark area that seems to encroach on both of my cheeks, and the persistent pimples I get everyday, I even don't bother with opinions too much.
I think I'm on my way to complete sociopath-y, if there's even such a word. I only want to get better now, not because of a certain "me" I want to appropriate my identity to, but because I want to do things better; to better my faculties for some purposes other than "being better". The difference gets a bit blurred because identity and action overlap; that by "doing better" necessitates "being better". But if you get to understand this in terms of motivation, there's a big diference.
There's a sense that it's not about some "me" I want to form, it's what I want to do that really matters. It's beyond peculiarity, I know, but it's very real to me.
...
Yes, something as basic as that requires enormous effort on my part to articulate. Why can't I reduce those three paragraphs in one sentence? I've been trying hard this thinking-in-chunks method but I can't seem to manufacture words smarties I know effortlessly write or say.
Once again- and yeah, I need to emphasize this- this frustration comes from the problem of mastery not a problem of identity. To the Foucauldians out there, I'm saying that I love the panopticon because it produces efficiency, not because of its production of categories.
My point: I was dismayed (note: not "hurt") when my essay was edited almost completely because it meant that my skills are not at par to what is good, or that I don't have an extensive range of writing styles.
Or that I procrastinated(!), thereby unleashing the gamut of rationalization strategies I have?
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