Thursday, October 25, 2001
Peter and I had a good conversation last night. I've been paying him for counseling sessions, mainly because he's fun to talk to but also because he always offers great insight, and last night he helped me come to a few conclusions about what's going on in my life and what I ought to focus on.
I suppose the main thing I'm obsessing about lately is this tremendous desire or urge to leave. Ever since I graduated high school, I've been fighting the urge to move somewhere new, start over on my own, establish myself, and build a life with my bare hands. Instead, I forced myself to finish school and get a job here in my hometown where I'm really comfortable but ultimately not happy.
So, why do I stay? Well, security is a big issue for me since I have a tendency to throw myself to the winds whenever my complusiveness gets the better of me. Therefore, I've been working hard to pay off my debts and save up a sizeable chunk of cash to start me out when I do. That's going to take, I estimate, about three years. In the meantime, I figure I might as well be working towards a masters degree since my company is paying for it. I'm getting good job experience at the same time.
Insert sigh here. I really need to let go of this fixation and learn to enjoy myself, as I am, now. All this focusing on the future has made me worry that I'm going to develop a habit of always working towards some out-of-reach goal without ever really enjoying myself on the path to it. And I'm a firm believer of the idea that happiness isn't something you find or stumble upon, but something you strive to be.
This repression of--or attempt to control--my urge to take flight has built up inside me like steam in an engine, and the frequent spurts of manic behavior I've been exhibiting lately are probably manifestations of this repression. My impulse shopping is a good example. I'll buy nothing for a good couple of months, and then suddenly, I go on a rampage of materialistic ardor. My recent computer purchase is a good example, despite the fact that I can almost justify buying it.
Peter says there's something more to be said about my shopping sprees, but I believe that's the crux in the paragraph above. And that stems from my ingrained materialism which I've forever fought but never quite vanquished, instead repressing it much the same way I've repressed my Sagittarian drive. Perhaps it's like art or writing, in that, sometimes it comes naturally but for the most part it is a skill that needs regimented practice until it becomes second nature.
Et Cetera
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