Read all about it

The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Tuesday, 3 June 2008


I don't have nerves of steel, a heart of gold or wire-in-the-blood. I am not iron-clad, silicon based or silver tongued. The cyborg that I am is made of flesh, even though my voice rings with a modem tone and my thoughts come to you in ones and zeros.

I am real, my feelings are very human. And I am scared. The things that I want to do frighten me, a little, when I think about them. Perhaps it is because some of them are new and so I know I can never be fully prepared, the outcome is uncertain. I also want things to be "right" so the preparation and build-up is given an equal if not greater weight of expectation than the acts themselves could ever have. All this, I do to myself and no-one could ever be as tough or unforgiving to me as I can.

I've never understood the reticence to admit when you are scared - even the standard use of the word "admit" implies it is something you would rather keep close and hold inside. Why not announce fear, make it tangible by putting it out there into the world? I want the fear, because it is the shadow of excitement. I need the difficulty and the challenge to be present so that success is meaningful, relief tangible and joy unconfined by the doubts that plague us: we didn't try hard enough, we didn't do what we should have done, it was too easy.

I don't want it to be easy. But I am scared of how hard it might be.

No comments: