Confidence

I have very little.

I don't feel bad about it. I feel justified and bewildered.

Only when I'm disillusioned or drunk do I ever project anything resembling confidence. I honestly think these are the only states where confidence can justifiably, yet falsely, breed and take hold in a person. I saw a post on Gawker tonight titled "All the Wrong People Have Self-Esteem". This couldn't be more true. People who, in my tiny opinion, have their head on straight and see existence as it actually is are rarely confident. Why would they be? What would any rational and reasonable person plant a seed of confidence in? God? He seems to be the most popular earth in which to grow the false flora of confidence , and why not? If ever lasting paradise awaited all of us who were able to follow 10 simple rules the world would be full of happy people. But most people, whether they want to admit it or not, don't believe in this proposition. Thus, a whole lot of us are pretty sad most of the time. Not that sadness is a bad thing, just a manifested reflection on the scary mysteries of life.

Confidence can never be rooted in the unknown.

Its no wonder that when I look on really confident people I see someone who has invested all their thoughts and energy in the tiny pictures that ours minds can take, meaning the petty things which make our society go round. Good jobs, attractive spouses, sleek cars, rule following, healthy teeth and skin, nice, pressed clothing= societal norms= reaffirmation of values= confidence.

To me, confidence reeks of submission, of unimaginative conformity, of arrogance. Weird as it may sound, we should all be in a constant state of bewilderment. I love the word bewilder. For me it sums up the state of human existence. Sure, our best and brightest, like Newton and Hawking, have figured out some things about the abyss around us, but for the most part we are all bewildered newborns in the dark.

As I write this a tinge of dissent has been growing within me. It is telling my digits to tell you that certain types of confidence are real and true. This tinge has grown as my four fingers fluttered on this board of letters and I am forced to admit that some people, some people's love and hope can't help but bare the fruit of confidence from my cynical winter tree of a mind. This confidence grown from the purest form of the human spirit is something that should be celebrated. I haven't seen too many examples of it lately, but I do know it exists, so I can't discount it.

This confidence is seen in times of trouble and tragedy. When our friends are at wits end and we reach down to our deepest depths to comfort and reassure them, thats the confidence I believe in. When men and women run in to burning buildings to save total strangers, thats the confidence I believe in.

Confidence in ourselves, to me, is vanity, but confidence in each other is the best aspect of humanity.

Random Thoughts From Within a Bath Robe

A few things: Krogerering at midnight is the best type of Krogering. What would your entrance music be if you were a Major League Baseball player? Wouldn't you rather have your dying words be a hilarious joke or gag than some prolific statement about love?

Let's go.

I'm an avid Kroger shopper. I don't feel comfortable in any other grocery store. The Pig seems a little run down, Whole Foods is great, but the yuppie/smug factor is a big time turn off. Kroger is not too hot, not too cold, but just right. My favorite thing about Kroger? Well, besides the sheer volume and range of delicious produce, it has to be that most Kroger's stay open all damn day and all damn night. If I want a cup of sliced watermelon, some Hot Pockets and a home pregnancy test at 3:45 A.M. by God I can get them all in one convenient, well lit location. I can't think of any event that kills my boredom and hunger/thirst/hygienic needs better than a late night visit to that big blue sign in the sky. Peace and comfort envelope me as I stroll through the aisles in my flannel jim jam pants and flannel bed shirt usually not having a clue what I'm searching for, but with the utmost confidence that I'll know it when I see it. Last night it was a plastic cylinder of creamy chicken noodle soup and a six pack of YooHoo(the blog's spell checker is advising me that I've misspelled BooHoo, making me long for an ice cold bottle of BooHoo. If only it existed.) When I'm Krogering late night I feel like a grown up kid all alone in a candy store for adults. There are all sorts of fancy vegetables and cheeses, not to mention a respectable selection of domestic and imported beer and wine. Sometimes I just hang out by the olive bar and gawk. One day I'll be rich enough to fill a whole Kroger sack full of mozzarella cheese balls and stuffed mushrooms...one day. One day I'll be able to push a buggy full of goat cheese, Havarti and Dom Perignon through the check out aisle and pay in straight cash. These are the thoughts that bedazzle and torment my mind as I peruse the aisles with a basket full of bologna and Iron Kids bread. One day I'll supermarket sweep that beautiful bitch, but until then I think I can be satisfied pondering my culinary possibilities under the harsh florescent glow of the lights in Kroger at midnight.

More musings to follow.