Is it pathetic that I get an enormous jolt out of reading my own archives?

Now, I know I can communicate, and I know I have a few ideas. I spend a lot of time straddling strange gaps, trying to deploy my mind in two areas at once. Sometimes I'm successful. It took me about two weeks to rack up 50 karma points on /. just speaking my mind, mostly about the politics of business and the business of creativity and the creativity of politics. I know I'm a smart kid, but I intensely fear ending up one of those arrogant hipster dudes who's so into the coolness of the things that he does that there's not much he's actually doing. I'm too reserved as it is: people see me as cold when I would say I'm shy. I don't want to retreat into a shallow lonlely shell of ego: I want to truly become and remain humble. I want to retain the ability to regularly be overcome by all the truth and beauty in the world, as I have many times this week. I want stike a deal with the universe that grandfathers in that that delightful sense of childlike surprise I get at strange weather or the syncopated rhythm of my music and the pedals of my bike.

I was reading Justin's Links just now, and today's entry really brought around the emptyness of what I've been working on this week. I think I've found something I can do for a while in consulting, but it's a world so frightfully awash in bullshit I don't know if I can handle it for the long haul. Every day the urge to let fly and speak real language with real meanings, even at the risk of offending someone's ego, grows stronger. What I need to do is amass a little nut and then stake out an enterprise of my own. Actually, this has been mine and Peter's plan all along. It's just that the nut-getting part is so insipid and banal. I hope I have the chutzpa to see it through.

Fuckin' A. I used to really have some mojo.