A couple of weeks ago, TAB completed an exercise (from "Dating for Dummies", no less) that requires one to list ten things one likes about oneself. He then suggested that all of his readers give it a try as well -- and shortly thereafter, Becky (and probably more people; I don't know and/or remember) followed suit. I didn't, however, and furthermore noted that I'd have a hard time coming up with even one item for such a list. It's not that I don't think that there is anything to like about myself, nor is it that there aren't things that I don't like about myself. There probably are. It's just that, unless I'm drunk and rocking out to Billy Idol, I don't think about them a whole lot -- or at least not in a positive context.

See, if I have any positive qualities, it's also true that very few good things have happened to me because of them -- and, moreover, some very, very bad things have happened to me as a result of these supposed reasons to like me. For example, people have noted that I am smart and that I have no qualms with voicing ideas that go against those of the mainstream. But these have brought me more persecution than praise and more enemies than allies. (The latter quality there is apparently especially reprehensible, given that lately a number of politicians have actually attacked and criticized their opponents for having such counter-mainstream views -- without arguing that said views are actually wrong or harmful.) I'm not a bad guy, and at times I can be very nice -- but it's also true that some of the people to whom I've shown the most kindness have either ignored it entirely or returned it with malice and then some. And in sober moments, I think that if I have anything at all to recommend me -- let alone a number of such qualities -- my life shouldn't be as awful and hopeless as it is. If I'm such a friendly guy, I should have friends, yes? If I'm so smart and creative, I should be able to get a job doing something I actually like, shouldn't I? If I'm better than average looking, why is it that, with the exception of vulgar shouting harridans that make rude gestures and insist that something is wrong with me for not wanting to service them orally in the back of a dirty public bus, people return my smiles and more romantic gestures with squeals of disgust and police reports? And so forth.

Do I believe in intrinsic worth? Yes. But I also believe that things intrinsically good should also have and should be readily apparent to us in virtue of their instrumental value. I have a hard time saying that a positive thing that is utterly unable to inspire any positive effects in the world around it is actually a positive thing. So I continue to doubt that I really have any worthy qualities, because, if I did, one would expect to see some beneficial results that would make their worth known to me. Granted, I can't say that nothing good has come of my supposed talents. I've met a few cool people during the course of my life, some of whom I still keep in contact with and, of those I don't, I still remember some of them fondly and think of them from time to time with a smile -- which is still something. Somehow or another, you're reading this right now. Maybe you find me interesting, maybe you care, maybe you have some other kindly inclinations towards me, and maybe I did something to encourage you to feel however it is you feel about me. That's something. And I've made a handful of interesting contacts through my ongoing attempt to entertain the masses via Scary-Crayon. And it's not terribly popular compared to the larger and more established sites of its genre, but a decent number of people visit it on a daily basis. Maybe SC makes someone out there smile, or laugh, or think, or have some sort of beneficial reaction that he/she wouldn't otherwise have experienced. And when someone sends in an e-mail to confirm that yes, that's happened, and offers an encouraging word or two, that's something.

But apparently it's not enough. My life still primarily consists of working shitty jobs, little sleep, then working on SC (and yes, though it can be enjoyable at times, the dedication that the site requires makes it more akin to a job than a hobby), and little laughter or joy or sincere smiling. I smile a lot, but if smiles are an indication of contentment and happiness within, I'm a liar. I have precious few things to smile about -- and, if I do, I can easily think of more reasons to lament those qualities than to rejoice in these supposed gifts. I'm rambling now and I have to go to bed because in three hours I have to get up to go to work.

So that's the explanation. Ja.