Sorry for not trying sooner.

My self-image is glazed with a slick coating of hubris. I believe, without a doubt, I can be thrown into any environment, and be up to speed within a couple of weeks. It might be naiveté or supreme general competency but the end belief is the same. I could change your whole way of being if you want me to. Hell, I’ll change the world if given enough time. If this is confidence, then confidence for me comes in the form of a raging internal being screaming, “Nobody tells me what I can’t do. Even me. Fuck me, I got this.” (Potentially Unhealthy Line of Reasoning. Will Find Out When Older. Update As Needed.)

What’s interesting is that few people have tried to tell me what I can’t do. The bounds of my aptitude for a thing appears to have a strictly linear relationship with time spent doing the thing. I wonder about my limits as a person and it is blantantly obvious that I have spent the first 20 years of my life not really pushing them. I can play/write music well enough but have I ever seriously tried to express myself? On easy mode, I can be a good engineer but have I seriously tried to be an innovator? I can make a few people much happier in their daily lives but could I actually bring meaningful change to thousands, tens of thousands? Is it possible to generate a sea of serenity in a world wrought with anxieties? Could I make that wave? Maybe not but I haven’t seriously tried. So, really, maybe. (Oof, a little too much “I AM VERY SMRT” in this paragraph. I would be mad if you didn’t laugh at me for this. I know I did.)

I owe it to myself as much as the world to give these concepts an honest shot at realization. It would be truly naive to spit this and have no actual plans of action but I assure any readers of my in-development thoughts I have several concrete proposals. We will get to those but they lie outside of the scope of this post. This one here is just me self-motivating. (Ignore the slight insanity that goes with having semi-public conversations with myself. Yes, this is the internet equivalent of walking down the street and mumbling to myself.)

This being said, I swear on my short, finite life, in all its insignifigance compared to the brilliant scheme of existence, that I will bust some dope shit. (This phrasing makes emotional sense to me. I didn’t choose the cultural terms I was exposed to in youth. Also, whatever, I say what I want and you know what I mean probably.) Despite inevitable but temporally local failings, I will not give up trying to bust some dope shit. I won’t accomplish something subjectively, possibly objectively, great by not trying to bust some dope shit. There isn’t even a timeline for me to quit on. Like, what? We live in an existentially null universe and old-me doesn’t try to scheme on dope shit? Who the hell would he think he is imaginatively inhabiting any of the circumstantially dependent, logical evolutions of my soul. It’s too possible to make the world a better place to not be about it. I apologize for 2 decades of underperformance. I am certain that I can endure long term discomforts with enough passion, focus, and grace to actually help others. With hubris, dope shit is simply inevitable.