After receiving comments from someone, I decided to do some internal reflection. For one thing, I don’t push myself enough, I know that. I don’t strive for the things I want when it matters the most, instead taking a backseat approach and wait for things to happen naturally. Of course, common sense dictates that things don’t always happen naturally – things that happens are a direct relationship to actions and reactions. Situations are created based on how much energy you put into it, and I seriously need to put one foot in front of the other, instead of having both of them planted right next to each other.

Look, I may sound like I know it all, or I have all the answers, but the truth is I rarely ever do. If I do have the answers, it’s only because I got them through experience and hard luck. Since I’m 25, the amount of experience I have is not very much. In many respects, I do try to gain experience. Everything I know about computer fixing, web design, hardware, and writing are all self-taught. I didn’t do well with the education I was given as a kid and teen. I didn’t take advantage of it, and I wish I did. It’s too late now, but at least I have the internet, which I feel is an invaluable learning tool. I also teach myself through trial and error. I learned (X)HTML by trying a tag, uploading it, and loading up my browser to see what it did. I did that, thousands of time, until I finally figured it all out.

My complaint is this: no matter how hard I try, it is never good enough. That seems to be the curse to this whole self-advancement thing I’m reflecting about.

Perhaps I lead a sheltered life right now, and being out in the middle of nowhere leaves me no choice but to try to amuse myself and get by each month. However, there was a time that I didn’t lead a sheltered life. I lived a life that co-existed next to a father who was unstable when he was trying to get his business off the ground. Coming home from school everyday was a punishment to me. I also lived a life on the streets, sleeping on sewer vents to keep warm, trying to figure out everyday how I was going to eat and survive, and keep drug addicts and mentally disturbed people from killing me. I was stabbed in the knee over $1.50 by someone I once considered a friend. So while I lead a quiet life now, it’s both something I’m grateful for, and something I hate. Spoiled? Maybe, but maybe I’ve earned it as a break.

Sorry if I sound angry, but I’m not; I’m just confused.