2005-01-26
Clark Kent
After I posted my entry last night, I took some time to surf around and read some of the diary entries of people who had recently added me as a favorite. While they all were well written and interesting, well except for maybe Tat2dgrl, (if you are still out there and reading, your one entry looks a little lonely. Express yourself! I want to know more about this mysterious ex that broke your heart), one writer in particular, Ponfarr struck a nerve.
I have written about this subject before, but I was thinking about it quite a bit last night. It can be very lonely to be a man. I am sure it can be very lonely to be a woman, but from my generalized point of view, women in our society tend to have a better set of close friends within which they have the opportunity to discuss their lives in a meaningful way. I, like many men I know, think of my wife as my best friend; the one single person that I should be able to share myself with completely. Joe up the street that I may watch football with or Frank that I guzzled beer with in college are not the sort of folks that I would attempt to have a meaningful conversation with, nor would I, or I would hazard most men in our culture, feel comfortable opening up and discussing personal fears and feelings with my co-workers. It would be seen as a sign of weakness and probably a CLM (career limiting maneuver). I am not sure I really know how to share my private self with other people; I just don’t have the training in it. So, I, like most men, just live life without really stopping to think about how much richer my life and the lives of those around me could be if I let people in and really shared more of my inner, true self.
In college, my fraternity nickname was Clark Kent, mild-mannered business student by day, super-fraternity boy by night. While the nickname did not survive college, it was still apt as I eventually became mild-mannered accountant by day, yuppie by night but today it is mild-mannered professional by day, ….(wow, I have sat here for a long time trying to think of what I would describe myself as today). Maybe my profile says it best, living a life of quiet desperation. There is no longer any outward sign of a Superman in my Clark Kent life. That is the problem, Superman is still in me somewhere, but I never let him out.
Ponfarr, in the entry that I have linked to above says:
But no one knows the real me. For some reason, that bothers me. Whether it's to confess my sins or to boast about my conquests (ha!), I want that part of my life recorded somewhere so that someone, somewhere will know this part of me, even if they never know who I really am.
In a world full of almost 6.5 Billion people, why do so many of us feel like no one knows the real us? Ponfarr’s name actually hints at his struggle with his buried emotions.
I don’t know where I am going with this rambling monologue. But since it is my place to dangle out my thoughts and feelings, I thought I would put them out to the world. Maybe it is good to know I am not the only one struggling with these thoughts and feelings, but what is the best way to deal with them? How do I let a little more Superman back into my life?
-- rockabillie at 9:43 a.m.