(no subject)

I'm a very selfish person. This is what it all comes down to. I try all these ways to convince myself that I'm not selfish, to focus on smaller things, do things for other people. And often, I succeed. I'm very good at convincing myself of things. But in the end, it's really all about me. I wrote my name in block letters and that just felt so satisfying, so right. A part of me tells me that it's not right to glorify myself. After all, what have I done that's really worth anything? Just a half-assed job at everything. But the other part says, yes, this is right, this is me, I am what's important, what should be cared about, and that is just depressing. It's one thing to read Adam Smith, another thing altogether when I face myself and realize what a pitifully selfish and prideful creature I am.

Perhaps this is just a moment brought on by the cold and detesting people who were socializing in such a *Chinese* way, but it is still traumatizing, this feeling of egotism coming to attention through the layers of oblivion I put between us. Of course, everyone else probably knows it already, because it's so unconcious that it seeps through my every expression, but knowing it myself is still different. And I don't think it's possible to feel differently. God, is Hobbes right?

Bookshelf came, so I put it together, so now I have space in the room. Finished anime club website (jas.uchicago.edu), as well as anime club meeting stuff. Chinatown trip again tomorrow. Stupid place with the stupid sunken outlets... can't plug half of the bigger plugs. Will need extension. Meatball and wintermelon soup should last one more day.