<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Wednesday, September 10, 2003

Wednesday Five
My Personal El Guapos

"I suppose you could say that everyone has an El Guapo. For some, shyness may be an El Guapo. For others, lack of education may be an El Guapo. But for us, El Guapo is a large ugly man who wants to kill us!"
- Lucky Day from the Three Amigos


After a long hiatus, in which I have thought long and hard about the nature of the universe and my role in it, I am finally ready to offer the five things that serve as an "El Guapo" in my life. Frankly, I'm sick of all the e-mails and telephone calls I've been getting from the media wanting to know when I would "release the El Guapo Five."

I have three "source" El Guapos, each of which is the source of numerous "symptom" El Guapos.

1. Anxiety. I can't recall a day that I lived without feeling a nauseating, boiling anxiety in the pit of my stomach. From my anxiety comes overeating, nailbiting, perfectionism, and fear of success, failure, and the future. It has also resulted in some serious errors of risktaking, when I try to react to my anxiety by being "bold" and end up going much farther than I should.

For me, anxiety does not come from anything that I've done, it's a state of being (like my tinnitus). Of course, making an error really sets it off. Sadly, I'm not like Injun Joe in Catch-22, who calmed down when his greatest fears were realized. It just makes things worse.

2. The Unhealthy Desire to Please Others. My self-image is unhealthily dependent on others' view of me, which means that I miss out on a lot of personal happiness. It means that I have a hard time making decisions or being satisfied with my choices.

This problem gets mixed up with the anxiety to create some interesting Reese's Peanut Butter Cups of stress. For instance, I fear making a mistake at work, and my self-esteem comes from satisfying the people I work for, so I end up fearing and resenting every project I work on.

3. Ronnie Wayne Sims. I shot him late one night in a bar in Pascagoula. It was some stupid fight about a pool game. I hit him twice, but the bastard didn't die, and he's been trying to kill me ever since. I reckon he's entitled to try, but I'm sure as Hell not going to take it lying down.

 1:27 PM

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?