Assumed it would be Easy

I saw an inter­est­ing inter­view yes­ter­day on Vicki. A man and his team had been the first to boat down the ama­zon rapids in a par­tic­u­lar path. They all took turns pad­dling, while they all ate, slept, and cooked in rota­tion, in the boat. It became their life for at least two months (I remem­ber it as six, but I can’t con­firm). When they final­ly fin­ished the trek, and emerged from the base of the riv­er, they had mixed emo­tions. They were hap­py that they fin­ished a very life-threat­en­ing jour­ney and sur­vived, hap­py that they had the ener­gy and tal­ent enough to com­plete it. However, they were also sad that their life was going to become a lot more com­pli­cat­ed again. That they would now have to answer phone calls, reply to e‑mail, get stuck in traf­fic.

It made me won­der if I would ever be able to feel that way. If I could stay away from my plea­sure box long enough, that I would for­get about it, and actu­al­ly regret hav­ing to delete my spam, or hav­ing to answer mes­sages from extreme­ly annoy­ing peo­ple. What could pos­si­bly make me for­get my beau­ti­ful music, or my com­fort­ing inter­face? I’m sure that there have been times where I left my apart­ment, for home, and I nev­er once thought of my com­put­er. This could­n’t have been more than two weeks, to be sure, so I haven’t actu­al­ly been able to test the lim­its of my depen­den­cy. Of course, one should always have more than one pas­sion, and I believe that I do, though some are more in prac­tice than oth­ers. Without my pas­sions, I am with­out being, and with­out my com­put­er, I am with­out my main pas­sion. Pita asked me if I would join him in ball­room danc­ing, but I refused when he asked (though after some care­ful con­sid­er­a­tion), cit­ing time con­straints as being too much of a hur­dle.

I believe, or hope at least, that I am cos­mopoli­tan enough to be able to pick up anoth­er pas­sion, should the need arise. Passions are my drug; some­thing that I can get into, be good at, stand out in, make a dif­fer­ence at. I’ve always need­ed that form of recog­ni­tion. I’ve always need­ed to know that I’m good at some­thing. Perhaps this need will go away when I gain some much need­ed self-con­fi­dence, when I can accept my past, and choose to be the per­son that I am.

No one said it would be fast.

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