While this morning was met with refreshed optimism, I am currently anxious. I got reckless with my self indulgence. I’m on a sugar low from a bag of Reese’s. Now I’m paying for it. It’s not so bad. A dull ache. Still, these times make for good art, right? So here I am at my art outlet.

What is on my mind? Doubts about girlfriends again. Me being too much of a nice guy. Poisoning relationships with courtesy. Or desperation. Both apply. The anxiety doesn’t stop there, it runs the gamut. Being attracted to needy demanding ladies doesn’t help my disposition much. They want to run me over and a part of me wants to allow it. My dignity pangs. They also share my traits; self sabotage, trust issues, pessimism. Some bad mojo.

Codependency. I suspect I am built for it. Same with the gals I’m attracted to. We’re very polar in how we commit. All or nothing. If that decision to commit isn’t made early in the relationship, real early, then it dies as fast. I’m thinking 3-6 months. Meanwhile, if we do commit, most often due to strife, childbirth, or some sense of values, then that commitment is unusually long . . .

I’m not sure how much I’m willing to commit to that theory though, as I punch it up, the back of my mind can find inconsistencies. I’ll work on it and get back to you.

What else was stabbing at my psyche tonight? I can’t decide, I must have forgotten. One second while I try to recollect . . .

Ah, yes! An emptying of the bladder later, I recall. It’s my attention and ability to diversify that attention efficiently that concerns me. For example, I can focus on my video games with a laser like obsessiveness. At the expense of other skills. That is the extreme example but apt. I get nervous that that duality of intense attention versus abject neglect adversely affects my life. I was capable of focusing on art, not capable of advertising myself effectively.  Capable of lavishing girlfriends with attention and affection; just as capable of quitting them in a split second. I fear how I would be as a parent, sometimes. I’d be great, and I worry I’d be neglectful . . . I doubt it, but the worry is still there

Alright, I’m about vented out at this point. Signing off.