Harriet the Spy and other ponderings

I went down to the Rotunda in the C building this morning to buy a new Moleskine (mine is completely full of scribbling - I had to squirrel it away the other day) and it made me think of the book Harriet the Spy. Am I the only one who remembers her? She used to spy on people and write it in her notebook and one day everyone found it and she was ousted. I loved that book. Only I'm not spying on other people when I scribble - I'm usually spying on myself. Which is, intellectually speaking, and interesting thing to mull over. Spying on oneself implies that you can observe yourself objectively - as a person who doesn't know someone would watch them and record their activities, speculating on what they might mean. Are we really capable of observing ourselves objectively? Is that a talent, skill, or something that is psychologically impossible?

This morning I woke up scared. I keep wondering when I'll lose the need to move, to see, to be. When will mediocrity and complacency finally catch me and lock me up? I feel like it's coming and I feel suffocated by it. I think it's been chasing me all my life and I've always managed to just stay one step ahead - trying to never settle and scramble up the ladder just a little faster than the forces that pull me back down. I sometimes wish I could go home, and sometimes I think about going home and I panic. What waits for me there? There are so many places in the world that I haven't seen yet. That I haven't experienced yet. What if I never see it? But it's almost like the question of being insane - does the person who is insane know they are insane? If you can think "I must be insane." then you can't possibly be suffering from the condition? A question of self awareness.

OK - back to pondering whether the Kyrgyz Republic understood the assignment or if it's all been lost in translation.