Eating My Own Tail Like a Snake... Gross Now That I Think About It

I had a lovely diner hangout with my good buddy Mike last night. Coffee, grilled cheese sandwiches, and intellectual conversation makes for a happy hipster. Don't worry. I own a pair of skinny jeans and have been glimpsed in a fedora, scarf, and t-shirt ensemble, but I'm no hipster. You have to kill one to become one and I can't take a life, no matter how Portishead-inspired that life may be.

Mike is doing some soul-searching these days. He's trying to figure out his place in society. For a man who swallows his meals whole like a python, he's unusually self-aware.

Being self-aware is a positive thing indeed. When you get to Level 4 Awareness, you unlock the Scepter of Empathy, the Flaming Crown of Humility, and the Elven Cloak of Open-Mindedness: essential items for building relationships with princesses and communities of villagers. Much better than rape and slaughter. Unfortunately, self-awareness has its drawbacks, too. Seldom does a day go by that I am not paralyzed by the knowledge of my limitations. My lack of candor irritates me. All attempts at self-promotion are drenched with shame and sweaty apologies. What I wouldn't give for the occasional sliver of sociopathy!

That's why my New Year's Resolution is to master the art of The Hard Stare and The Braggart's Maw. Maybe I can inspire just enough fear in others to muddy up the waters of my own self-deprecation.