Two girls, one year. Join us as we stumble and glide towards our better selves. Maybe our journey will be yours as well.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Day 45. Saints.
Oof. I would get Valentine's Day.
I don't like it. I'm one of those. I've always been weird about this "holiday". Every February the 14th in grade school, I would stay home. Every year. I had too much anxiety about:
a) what if I don't get any valentines? Am I un-valentineable?
b) what if I DO get valentines, and then people say oooOoooOOOOoooh and embarrass me?
Basically, if I get valentined, it's nobody's damn business but my own.
What the fuck? Where did this mentality come from? Why so young? It is because of my own experiences that I lean more towards the "nature" theory than the nurture. My upbringing and experiences have of course shaped who I am, but they have all been seen through my original eyes. Filtered through my ridiculously sensitive, private, protective being for as long as I can remember.
I've spent a good amount of my life trying to be someone else. There are qualities I'm proud of: I like my sense of humor, my ability to keep a friend's secret, my organizational skills... But gosh, wouldn't I love to be able to let go and be an open book sometimes. To be loud and obnoxious. To not think before speaking. This is the appeal of acting. I'm given a stack of language and actions and I can be whoever I want within them. Cathartic.
I've tried applying this freedom to real life, but it never works out. I think that's half the reason I get restless and want to move on to a different town - the opportunity to show up, a complete unknown, and be an entirely different person (I bet I'd have a blast as a punk rocker Philadelphia). But without the script, it never lasts long. I unfailingly return to quiet, awkward homebody of no persuasive gender role.
Well, isn't this just exactly what you felt like reading today?
Happy Hearts!
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Paige
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