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Autobiography Attempt #17
For many years I have wanted to be a writer. To write something
that would be published. Anything. Anything from comic books, how-to
manuals, science fiction, or to writing an autobiography. I have
read
that
you should write what you know best and of course what I know best is
myself. Thus I have tried many times before to write my autobiography.
But the same problem always arises. I would decide to tell you the
many anecdotal stories about what is has been like to grow up as an
unenlightened eight on the enneagram. The enneagram is system
developed by
the Sufis of classifying all people into one of nine personality types.
I
have been classified as an eight, which is a person who is
confrontational,
aggressive, and one who generally gets what they want through
intimidation
of others. I might have told you many stories of the fights I got
into
throughout my life.
Or, I may have told you about how intelligent I am. And
how many
others recognized that fact long before I did and how they tried to
convey
that message to me so that I would not waste it. Or I would tell you
about
how insightful I have been about other people and their basic
motivations
and how good I was telling them what their problems were and what they
should do about them.
I have written in the past about my emotional issues and how I have
attempted to overcome the problems of depression. I explained how
there was
a time in my life when I felt that was so much pain that I did not want
to
endure it any longer. In some of my previous writing attempts, I told
about
my sales career and some small but impressive successes. And I about
the 22
months in which I played poker to supplement my income, earning an
average
of $1,800 per month when $1,800 a month was not a bad income.
But, who the hell cares. Who cares about these things. Who
would
want to read and these anecdotal recitations of my successes and my
failures. I wouldn't.
No, what seems more interesting and more pertinent is the fact that
I am now 63 years old, in poor health with a limited life expectancy,
and
that I feel like a complete failure. I feel like a person who has not
accomplished one worthwhile act in my life. A person who has wasted
his
talents, squandered his resources and has virtually nothing to show for
his
existence. I feel like a useless eater.
Intellectually I know this is not completely true. I have shown
some kindness to a few people along the way. And when I wasn't being
insensitive to someone or violating their boundaries or out and out
abusing
them I was occasionally generous and even compassionate.
And I never punched anyone who I did not honestly believe was about to
punch
me first. I am quite honest with my friends and have been selectively
honest in my business dealings. There are many people who like me and
think
of me as a wonderful person. There are just as many who detest me and
think
I am a total jerk. They are both right.
And, of course that still leaves the question, who cares? And I
will get back to that a little later. I think that some anecdote may
help
illustrate who I am and how I got this way. So maybe I will include
one or
two per cent of my available stories for clarification.
For a moment I want to tell you about an awareness that I have that I
am
feeling somewhat sorry for myself. I feel sorry that for the most
part, my
life is over and I will never do or accomplish anything great on the
grand
scheme of things. And as Marlon Brando said in On the Waterfront
" I
Coulda Been a Contender" I could have been a contender is some areas
of my
life. But those opportunities are now pretty much past.
An Autobiography
Tom Coop
I am not writing this for the reader, but rather for myself. It is
just something that I must say. It is not that I do not care what the
reader thinks, on the contrary, I care so much that if I wrote it with
the
reader in mind, I could not be honest. I would try so hard to impress
the
reader that my objectivity would be in serious jeopardy.
While I have always been quite intelligent, I have never had very
much understanding. Since I was young, I have had serious
psychological
issues. A chip on my shoulder, an adversarial attitude toward
the
universe and readiness to do battle to whatever the degree that I felt
was
required at the time, even if that meant putting myself in harm way. I
have
generally been insensitive to myself and others, unsympathetic,
depressed
and in a lot of pain.
I have always been willing to give everyone else the responsibility
for my failures but would never trust giving the responsibility for
getting
me help, to anyone else.
If my entire life has been a continuous test, I have repeatedly
failed. In fact if one considers my intellectual potential for success
in
several areas, i. e. science, mathematics, financial, and mostly in
philosophy and psychology, I am an abject failure. However, when one
considers my predilection toward self destructive behavior, my anger at
the
world and my resentment and complete rejection of authority of any
kind, I
have been a raging success.
With all that in mind, I want to be tested on me wisdom by any and
all sagacious people that I have any connection with, directly or
indirectly from this point in time til my death. Therefore, I would
instead
request a single test, lasting from now until my death. A little
like
an
entire course being graded on one term paper. And the term paper of my
life
as an "operational definition". In other words, the total sum of my
activities from now on would be the part that I would be graded upon.
Maybe have each one give me a grade based on my wisdom (or lack
thereof) on a scale of one to a thousand. A score of 950 or more
indicating
wisdom of saints and a score of 1 through 50 indication a wisdom no
greater
than that of world leaders and politicians. Please have these people
ignore
the fact that no truly wise person would be as concerned as I, with
whether
anyone else was aware of their wisdom or not.
Born on a dark and stormy night in California on February 24, 1942.
(just kidding about the "dark and stormy") I a was a natural born
salesman
and bully. When the doctor started to slap me on the butt I said, "wait
a minute, I won't always be this small and I will remember that you
hurt me
and I will come back and get you."
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I wish Uncle Tom had
realized what a wonderful example of love that he was for me.
He was everything I needed, and I think he worked hard to do that for
others,
at the very least in the last 20 some odd years of his life. ~ Peggy |
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Peggy
Rowe's
