Saturday, May 05, 2007
I find most memoirs to be pompous, in a way. I realize this makes me an hypocrite, given that I have a blog. I grabbed the book quoted below awhile back, remembering that several people had suggested to me that I might like it. And in spite of myself, I found that they were right. While I admit it's a corny turn of phrase, this particular passage speaks to me. It also puts into words a feeling with which I have struggled, and been unable to clarify.

"My mother was waiting, calmly holding her glass of zinfandel. What is it you think you might like to do? I contemplated opening with something blunt and direct...Of course I didn't know what to say because I didn't know what I wanted. My inability to see life in anything but black or white prevented me from understanding my contradictory self. Yes, I wanted to loaf and lean against the bar, but I also wanted to strive and succeed, to make lots of money...Failure was so painful to me, so frightening, that I was trying to appease it, make an accommodation with it, rather than fight it head-on...Half of me wanted to conquer the world, half of me wanted to hide from it."