July 18th, 2001

Brown-eyed Stare

Stealing other people’s words because (right now) I cannot form my own

Okay... so I read some things that said what I want to say, rather succinctly. So, I'm stealing them point blank (with a tiny bit of editing), and laying them out here for your perusal.

Thank you kris for being so good with words; for now they do so much more than I can. Please forgive my thievery.

(I'll write from my own head later. Really. I promise.)

****************
To be honest I hate all these questions. Why, what, who do you think you are? I don't feel like I can actually adequately capture things. I feel everything is always in such a state of flux and so dependant on my mood that there can never be anything but a shadowy glimpse. I am so much more than what can be contained or reflected here, but habit and obligation take over, so the same paths get well hewn.

I am terrified…

Most aspects of my life are in a period of transition. To be honest I don't have much idea what I am going to do. I am hoping this next year will be one of discovery and self acceptance...

I’m moody. I have a penchant for self created drama. I’m self destructive. I am convinced that I will never measure up.

I am devoted to systems that will move me toward my ultimate perfection but yearn to simply surrender to who I am in this moment, and so therefore never really get much of anywhere.

I’m kind, gentle most of the time, compassionate, generous, forgiving, witty, silly, impetuous, unorganized, fearful of time constraints and commitment. I drive barefoot and sing songs at the top of my lungs as I drive.

I have a small talent for words that sometimes lends itself toward insight or creative expression, but most of the time I just chase my tail in the same familiar concentric circles. I seek and seek and seek—and am afraid of most of the answers as the more and more I analyze the more I realize it is all on me. My suffering self created, my happiness my responsibility (how’s that for a rusty platitude?).

At any moment I feel as if I will finally break out and allow myself to fully embrace the wild girl that I am.

I want to love myself the way I love the people in my life: Hard, full of loyalty and acceptance for all their flaws and gleaming beauties, loving them *because* of their flaws, and not just in spite of them.

Maybe I will come across as shallow, self absorbed, contrived, whimpering, weak, tepid and lacking a distinct spine (all things I have thought of myself), perhaps there will be no value here, or the only value is to watch me swerve around from wound to wound never healing anything, and maybe I am all of the above, unable to put them down to momentary circumstance. Maybe I will always stay on the skin of things, never able to break through, but damn, I sure need to hope I will. Hope that I will allow myself to be who I am, rather than trying to conform or shape myself to fit what others want. I hope I will lose interest in this nice girl dance that makes no one happy, that makes me have no respect for myself and makes others have pity (as well as derision).

I hope that I will learn not to give a fuck.

****************