I am my own fan

I am my own fan. I find myself often looking at my blog, and reading a different post from time to time. Does anyone else do that? I begin to read because I forget what I wrote, and as I go along, it is simply a wonderful journey listening to myself… it produces an emotional effect that I intended to create at some point in the past but unintentionally feel in the present. And then I realize why I never make this blog too public. I don’t need anyone’s approval. No arguments, no debates. I talk and someone listens. Or doesn’t listen…either way, no one talks back. Not really, anyway.

So, do I really love listening to myself talk? I’ll be honest here. Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, I really simply do. Talking with someone else brings about doubts like, do they really really get it? Do they understand it the way I feel it? Did they catch every subtlety? I wonder if my work is appreciated the way it deserves to be? I’m funny, does anyone get it though?!
Congratulations, the answer to all the above doubts is YES! There exists such an entity- one that you approve of too! Me, myself, and Kritter. I don’t think Ayn Rand was conveying the same message I am when she wrote the Fountainhead, but I believe in some deeper philosophical level, the ideas are connected. Great minds think alike after all.

Why is it so wrong to appreciate yourself and your own existence anyway? There are a gazillion moments in our lives when we cannot stop berating ourselves for the way we are, things we do or have done in the past. But do we really take time out to point out what we adore about us? Society wants us to keep those on the down low.
So here is what I propose for all you bloggers out there: I ask that you read one of your own posts in dire need. You know yourself the best, you know what will get to you, you know it’s honest, and moreover, you’ll know that you deserve all the appreciation that you feel for yourself. : )

For in the end, you can ponder and doubt all you want..doubt away everything like Descartes did, but what he could not doubt away was the fact that there is a doubter, himself. I think/doubt ergo I am.

You always have you.