The curse of mediocrity

Oh dear. I find myself agitated, frustrated, itching to get out of my own skin. I just saw myself in the mirror and I wasn't who I thought I would see. I just embarked on an adventure which turned out to be tedious. I just made my offering to the thin crowd who gathered to hear me. Why? Because I have not offered anything so interesting, so enticing, delightful or inspiring to keep them coming in the door. My expectations of myself seem to consistently exceed my accomplishments. Is this not the insanity of doing the same thing over and over and expecting new results?

Are all of my offerings this mediocre? How many of my hopes and aspirations have been mere self delusion? What greatness can I make of the decay and the rubble of my own ill-attended surroundings? How is this very frustration, edgy in boredom, torturous in lackluster related to the ground of being? How do I find the ananda, the joy that has no opposite from here? How do I make this aversion into a mark of true beauty?

Honesty has value, but dragging others through one's own boredom is more selfish indulgence than authentic honesty. I feel my closet is stuffed full with these sorts or scribblings, the ones you don't really want the world to be aware of. I will spit it out and run away as fast as I can to a better vantage point, one that must be more flattering. How could it get much worse than this? Oh now, don't tempt me to push that edge. This will soon give way to its opposite and so I pray my next inspiration is worth the scratching on the chalkboard that we all have to endure sometimes.