I had one of these before - a Xanga. Sometimes honest and seldom funny, it largely served as a self-promotional vehicle to get people (i.e. girls) to like me. You can probably still find a cached page or two with the right Google search. Knock yourself out. Awesome stuff.
Us existentialism devotees (yes, quite) call this "transitional stage." I don't think I'm the smartest kid around anymore*, and I know I'm not the hardest worker. At the same time, I'm old enough to know the things I can do well (text message, drive, text message while driving), the things I do poorly (shoot a basketball, stick to an exercise regimen, clean my car), and the things I do exactly as well as the average human being (turn on lightswitches, parallel park, shoplift). At the same time, I know what I want to do and
So is this. We hope.
* - In 6th grade, a panel of me unanimously decided I was the smartest kid in America. Visions of Newsweek covers and Today Show interviews were dashed, however, when I failed to defend the school spelling bee title, which I'd won the previous year on the word "swivel."
