Killing Smitty
Something keeps telling me that I should be writing more. People have told me I’m a good writer. I think it might be true.
But topics to write about are evading me. Part of that is due to my own pessimism, thinking I don’t have an interesting enough life to write about. But another part of me, called the ego might disagree.
I could ramble on endlessly about how great I am, pointing out all of the things that make me so wonderful and a better person than others. My ego, Smitty, would be perfectly happy with that.
Having introduced Smitty, I should mention that I’ve been doing my best to subjugate him—lock him up. What suppression that hasn’t been deliberate has occurred naturally through the mere process of aging and the utterly humbling experience that is being the father of a strong-willed child.
So I must say that the Subjugation of Smitty has been quite successful. And therefore I should be able to suppress the urge to ramble on endlessly, signaling about how great me and my life choices have been. This is the type of content I often see on social media, leading to the ever so damaging and unproductive tendency of one to compare him or her self to others.
It is normal to want to take a peek into other people’s lives but doing so can be perilous as people don’t often reveal their true nature. An authentic exchange of thoughts and ideas is rare but it is the only form of sharing that is of mutual benefit.
So if I’m going to write, and stick to it, I must do my best at remaining authentic, which is difficult. I’m not going to do something as stupid as promise 100% authenticity. Indeed 100% authenticity would imply the death of Smitty and becoming something akin to a Vulcan. I only intend to subjugate Smitty, not kill him.
