there's another side to this coin

and it is how vain i really am. so vain that i am loath to begin new projects/meet new people just because of the condition of my face. this is consuming me. it's making me depressed. i've built up my self-confidence in my image and here it is in shambles smacking me in the face (no pun intended). so i must find another reason to believe in myself. and yes, there are many non-physical reasons for me to like myself. in fact they probably outnumber the physical ones. but the fact is that i have two mirrors in my room; in the bathroom there's another. and yet more in the bathrooms at work. the point is, i can't escape my image, and if it isn't pleasing to me i prefer not to see it, but i am forced to see it because i can't escape it! argh! hence the good/bad of getting my hair cut: i get the thrill of an updated look, but since i think my face is so bad i don't want to see myself. and what's worse is when the kids at school ask me about it. very embarassing. when is this shit going to get off my face? i want to go upstairs and cry now.

also i should see a psychologist. why? i don't feel like i belong here and i want to know why and if i'm really serious about feeling this way. i need some guidance in the thinking process; i'd like to uncover it and find out how i arrived at this conclusion. because it's one thing to believe that i don't belong in this country and then go away and decide that i really do (ie, change my mind), and it's another to go away and not look back. i guess maybe if i had a career, a calling, or something, some reason to belong here, i wouldn't feel like this. or, if i had something like the above, this feeling could lie dormant until my forties when i take the card table and flip it over (like in the movies), sending all the bits and pieces flying all over the room. better now than later, when there may be children or large estates or businesses or whatever to deal with, no? i thought that this quarter-life-crisis-preventive-of-mid-life-crisis happened after the first time i went to Argentina in 2001. this is why i have my old passport framed and hanging on my wall, opened up to the page where some man at customs in argentina (a place with which i have grown very familiar) stamped it in may of 2001. it opened up so many doors for me. not only new experiences, but new ideas and the realization of the existence of the rest of the world. of course, the first time around i was not expecting such a change. now, it's not that i am expecting a change but an entirely new way of life. is that what i really want?

i'm such a geek; this is the second day in a row that i have posted twice in one day.