It's been pointed out that history is written by the victors. That makes a certain amount of sense because the vanquished rarely, if ever, have the ability to get their word out. The victors not only control the media and the currency, they've won, and what is taught to the next generation is their version of the past.

Truth, as such, is malleable. There's your truth, there's my truth, and the poet and idealist like to believe there's a real truth.

At this moment I'm not certain. What's engaging me right now is similar to, but not indentical with, that struggle over truth. What's interests me is immediate reactions and how they differ from latter ones. In a way, it's like the battle above, but in this case the truth changes.

My immediate reaction to news can be much different than my feelings an hour or a day later. I wonder which is real, do I talk myself into or out of my gut reaction, the first one, when I later have a different view? Or is it just a typical human response, like a sharp blow that first dulls, then fades.

I can get some news that shocks me, that makes me queston the reality of the world I live in, that makes me doubt myself and those around me. "Is this really happening?" I ask, and when assured it is, I falter. This often happens when I ignore other realities and replace them with my own, and the inevitable collision of the two shatters my own. I get the sharp blow, I reel, and as the saying goes, the scales drop from my eyes.

It's a sobering time, a humbling one, and my ego resists, tries to maintain its superiority, and ultimately fails. What emerges hours or days later is a more chastened self, probably a better one, and I absorb and consume the realities of the moment into my new life.

But I sometimes wonder whether or not my initial reaction isn't true, even if it doesn't last.

I think I'm learning a little about my own care and feeding. My mood is a little low right now, but I expect it to climb back up again later. I wish I had one of those cool blogs, where I could put all kinds of things every day. It might be interesting to check my mood like four times a day.

Right now, more than anything else, I think I'm feeling sad. I think the major factor, though, is that the stock market is killing me, and taking away more funds than I can afford to lose, and also I slept poorly last night.

Well, not exactly. I guess I slept fine when I was sleeping, but I woke up like four times in my six hours of sleeping. I may need more, but that's what I often get. I feel pretty good when I get more sleep, but I still dislike the whole sleeping idea. I don't have any dreams to share, not that they mean much, anyway.

I think I was troubled and that's why I kept waking up. I'm getting better about not beating myself up over every real or imagined transgression, but I still don't like it when I'm all demanding and pushy. Not that I am, but I guess I feel I do a little too much "me, me, me!" and not enough "how can I help you?"

I'm a pretty good guy, I'm discovering, and downright wonderful a lot of the time. Still, I have my moments (as do we all), and they continue to make me wish I knew when to call it quits.

I'm humbled and frightened by the things I keep. So much that was, or seemed, important loses a lot of value over time. People don't, they become more worthwhile and trusted and close, but paperwork has little lasting value.

So much stuff that I've tucked away, hoping to keep it safe, is of little interest and less use to me now. Maybe I'm maturing, maybe I'm getting ruthless, but I no longer care to have all this stuff cluttering my life and threatening to capsize the boat of my existence. I'm not about to question my values, or the values of the younger me to be precise, but I wonder why I don't toss things when I'm done with them.

Surely I learned what I needed to after printing out and studying the FreeBSD FAQ. I have a bound copy of the manual, for chrissakes. I have no idea why I saved for so long the accompanying documentation for I/O boards, and all that OS/2 stuff is just plain embarrassing. I have no idea what I'm planning on doing with that pricey Describe software, but it looks to be headed for the trash.

I lie to myself a lot. Not only about my hopes and my past, but also about my intentions. For a long time I honestly thought I was going to build that one computer that would run all that stuff, for awhile I had it, but I never went back and did what I wanted to. Now, it's all just worthless crap.

I need a lift. Maybe I'll watch the news.

Today I feel oddly inspired. Odd, only because I normally feel pretty lethargic.

I can't explain it. I'm not worried about competence today, another rare event, and I'm filled with confidence. I don't know quite what to do with this trifecta of inspiration, confidence, and capability. I haven't had much practice feeling this way, but I love it. I think I could get things done if this keeps up.

The only downside is I decided to put off until tomorrow or Tuesday quitting smoking. I made a trial run, but I gave it up because I was concerned about having my sister in my face all day. I think it will be easier for me when there's no one around for me to annoy, but I may need some support. There's groups on the Web, obviously, but I'm getting away from that kind of thing. I love message boards, but the people rarely pay me the attention I deserve.

I just feel awful when I post and there's no response. I don't mind not getting comments here, I think I'm making this record just for me, but I know some people check it out from time to time.

Hi, to you!

I can't describe how good it feels to be relieved, however momentarily, of my constant, nagging inferiority and that harsh voice in my head yelling at me. I think a good portion of it comes not from anyone acknowledging my talents or anything like that, but lately I've been feeling both accepted and trusted. It's nice to feel that, and I don't quite know how to deal with it.

Today I want to do a ton of things and I know I won't get to one-tenth of them. Doesn't matter. I'll get some things done, some literary and some necessary. I'm all dressed up to get filthy cleaning things I haven't seen in years, and I like that because I always discover things I've forgotten I own.

I don't think it's a good thing to forget my possessions. If I have that many, I should make a pile to give away.

But I don't want to give away how I feel today. I want to embrace it.

You might think that I'm some sort of super-brain. It's true that I exercise my brain more than my body, but for all the work out I give it, it's in pretty shitty shape. Unlike bench presses or curls, my brain is not getting any better and stronger. It gets a lot of exercise, but doesn't seem to improve.

Take, for instance, my predictive abilities. I see things all the time, meet people, go places, have experiences and study books. In none of those ways am I at all different from every regular Joe on the street, but I use all that gained knowledge to try to read the future and see what will happen next. Faith Popcorn has the best job in the world, or did when I first heard of her. She was a futurist, who got paid good money to predict things.

I suppose I could do a halfway decent job of foretelling some future stuff, but nothing anyone would pay me for. I don't know if the radical new Coke 2 (with half the carbs AND half the calories) will be success or not, but I bet if I did that the Coke people couldn't throw money at me fast enough.

No, those sorts of predictions don't interest me. I'm not about to begin having columns in the Enquirer letting the readers know which stars are ripe for breakups and marriages, it's a much more insidious predictive area I struggle in and fail.

I spend an inordinate amount of time figuring out what will happen, or how people will behave. Some call it worrying, I call it planning. Almost like chess, I will say X and he or she will respond with either A or Z. I know what somone will or won't do, I think, I've got them pigeon-holed and all figured out. As soon as I do so -- Wham! -- the Universe hits me with the big "You are so wrong" slap of reality.

I am continually amazed by people. Just floored. I get nearly every detail wrong every time I think I know what will happen. The most amazing part of it is, I seem to forget entirely next time around. In fact, I can't seem to remember from one minute to the next that I have, in fact, never correctly gauged anyone. They exceed and delight me every time I try.

You think I'd know better by now.

It's hard for me to rate my mood a four. I have no reason not to give it a five. I wanted to put three.

I don't know why this is. I had a glorious day, after a disppointing morning, got a little sun, stilled my soul and all that rot, andam feeling more peaceful than at any time in recent memory. God is in his heaven and all's right with the world.

And yet I have a problem acknowledging that things are going well. It's not at all like I expect them to fall apart, and it's not as if there's so much going on, anyway, but I have a perverse streak of resistance against admitting I'm good. I don't know if I complain a lot or not. I do know that I'm typically negative and deprecating, which may be the same thing in a slightly different guise. But i think my need for attention prevents me from saying I'm good.

If I hurt, some people will come to my aid. I try to shoo them away, but i must want it. I must, somehow, enjoy the concern I can wrest from others, and feel it's a more genuine emotion than any other. I have trouble acknowledging and admitting much that is not generosity, much that would be a personal acknowledgement of myself.

The generic benevolences are easy for me to accept.

I have no idea what it would take for me to admit I'm doing great. I can't understand my reluctance to say it, and I think it may be that I'm afraid if I'm good that there will be no one to aid me. I don't know how to handle health, what to do with acceptance. If I'm good, those seeking to aid me will see their job as done and leave, and that may induce me to continue saying things could be better. The truth is, though, things are better than I ever imagined, and I'm sure they'll get better. I'm just afraid to admit it, like it's a dream that I'll awaken from.

It's not news that I think many people are more adept at this life business than I think I am. I'm quite possibly wrong about that, I may be functioning better than I think, but I do have a possible liability when it comes to some things.

I'm pretty good with most computer stuff, even though they fail to excite me the way they did, and I think I'm adept at stringing words together, but neither of those are things I can talk about very often. I'm blessed with a curious nature and inquisitive mind, so I've checked a number of things out during my time on this planet. The result is, like so many others, I know a little about a lot of things, but nothing in much depth.

Other people seem to know a lot about things, much more than I do. Now, I can't possibly know everything about everything, try as I might, but I frequently find myself in situations where everything I can contribute to the conversation is over in less than a minute. It's not a bad thing, since I can listen and learn or ask questions, but I don't feel as if I'm pulling my weight.

People who are professionals know a helluva lot about things. People who are passionate about something are similarly well versed. I just kind of sit on the sideline of just about everything, and what I've seen of life and living doesn't always give me much to say. I don' t think people feel I'm stupid, just boring.

It's tough that way, that Rennaisance Man thing. Until I can find some sort of common ground, I can't uphold my end of any conversation, and sometimes I wish I was much better informed than I am. So much of what everyone else knows is a closed book to me, but given a chance, it's usually an interesting book.