Please Do Not Read This Post - You Were Warned

This post will be where I throw myself a pity party.  A well-deserved pity party, of course.  Who, in their right mind, would throw a pity party for themselves without believing they deserve it?

Anyway, it will be uninteresting to most so, feel free to move along.

I am mediocre.

A month or so ago, I read a pithy article on some guy ranting about the fact that young people today believe the lie that they are special.  I think it was a teacher or something.  Basically, the idea was that society keeps pumping self-esteem pills into these young blokes, telling them that they are really awesome and will do great things when, in reality, the majority of them will die alone, having lived meaningless lives.

I'm there.  I'm that young-ish person.  The one that was told that I had the potential of being something great, of doing great things.  As a matter of fact, I am told this almost weekly.  Some person comes out of the woodwork and validates my personage, telling me how awesome I am and that the world would be a sad place without me.

But I know better.

I know how I am as a dad.  I'm damn good at times but a pathetic failure most times.  As a husband, I crow about my wife like no other man I know - and I mean it with all of my heart.  But that doesn't mean that I am the best husband ever.  Quite the contrary.  I slip all the time.  I yell and swear and am a prick and a veritable ass all the time.  (No.  The "nobody's perfect" line won't work on me.  I know better.)

I am a terrible camper.  A horrible person to have along on a vacation.  I care more about a clean house that I do a happy family.  When a motel owner tells me that my kids should be quiet so the other guests get some sleep, I care more about the other guests than to realize that my kids had been cooped up in a van for the last eight hours and need to blow off steam.  Who the hell needs sleep before 10PM anyway?!!  I'm angry at myself for my skewed priorities.

I began to write a blog in 2011 with huge dreams.  I have realized a few of those dreams.  I have many followers and have gained many new friends.  But I wanted to write full time.  I thought, in April of 2011, that I would be the next Longfellow by now.  And yet I find myself in the same dark motel room in a flourescently lit bathroom, hardly larger than a dog kennel, writing a note to myself about my failures.

I leave on vacation and the office goes to hell in a handcart.  No, not because I'm not there to hold it together.  Quite the contrary.  Every bone in my body tells me it happened because I am a mediocre programmer - just like everything else in life.  My coworkers had to leave their families for a whole weekend, just to clean up messes that I might not have created, but my mind tells me I contributed to them.

I went to school for Computer Science and ended up tops in my class.  I was a good student.  But I walked away feeling as if I learned nothing practical for real life.  Since then, I have learned on the job everything I know and yet still feel so inadequate.

I have nothing left to say - which doesn't surprise my mediocre brain.  At least I can make people laugh.

I only wish I could make my family laugh all the time and love every minute with me.  I hope tomorrow will be a brighter day.