Just had my ass handed to me by a fake Jillian Michaels and the Wii Fit. Excuse me while I try to collect a bit of dignity back.
In better news? I totally rock the rhythm parade. Oh yes… I do.
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Filed under - My big phat ass No Comments so far. Say something else
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I wasn’t crazy to quit my job. I had a plan. HAVE a plan.
It involves witnessing at least one of my children doing all the amazing things that happen during the first year of life. That’s a big part of the plan. You can’t get this time back. I want to enjoy the little bugger while he still enjoys me. Then when he turns into a seven year old hellion who is far too cool for me, I can look back and remember that at three months his face lit up every time I walked into the room. Not just once, everytime. It’s like a miracle has occurred. He’s sitting there, contemplating the meaning of life and similac, when BOOM! an angel appeared. And of course- his smile makes me smile. It’s like Baby Prozac.
So there’s that.
But there is also the idea that I have never had a real job. I have had a plethera of fake jobs. I’ve made jewelry, hosted birthday parties, dug golf-balls out of a windmill, repaired arcade games, hawked hand tools and drywall, worked Main Street at Disneyland, laughed at people buying Natural Products at South Coast Plaza, handed menues to Fish Eaters, slung Cheesecake, filed insurance papers until my hands bled, edged Medi-cal between regular folks and bill collectors, slurped coffee when I should have been selling it, pushed people down water-slides, sold overpriced skater clothes and underpriced baby clothes, and took deposit after deposit for the masses. But not once have I had a real job.
I’m not talking about a grown-up job, just real. Something that feels like a career choice instead of happenstance. Any one of those things could have been a real job if I had let it. Since I didn’t want to make a lifetime dedication to cheesecake flinging, it wasn’t. But I do want to make a life time dedication to designing and creating. It feels real.
But in my twisted mind, if I went back to bank, I could easily keep floating along, never pushing myself to make it real. I would probably finish school. I would probably get a portfolio together. And then it would sit on my computer for the rest of my life. It’s so easy not to push myself. If I don’t push, I can’t fail. I could work at the bank forever.
I am terrified of failing. I keep expecting to suck at this. I keep expecting my teachers to laugh at my pathetic attempts at design. Instead, they ask if they can use my work for examples in future classes. Umm… Okay? I guess? I’m actually kinda good at this. Which means I probably won’t fail. Someone, somewhere might actually hire me to keep designing. They might actually pay me to draw. Ack.
But not if I let myself float.
So I quit. And I am not crazy. Mostly.
Filed under - In Crazyland, Stupid Ideas 5 Comments so far. Say something else
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I am an onion.
I think most people are. It is a very rare breed of person who can peel away their layers and show the world who they really are. It takes a rare person to be yourself all the time. My brother- for instance- is the kind of person that has only a single layer. I tease him that he has no filters. He says and does exactly as he pleases, regardless of the company present. Lucky for him, he’s also the kind of person that can get away with it. People seem to be charmed by his lack of layers. If my brother were to meet the president, he would have him telling fart jokes over a bottle of Absinthe within an hour. Chef’s breed is not only rare, it’s legendary.
I am not a rare breed of person. I am an onion that has been fairly content to continue life in my onion-hood indefinitely. It’s about time for that to change. It’s not that I don’t like myself- I do- I just have too many filters. I care a little too much about embarrassing myself. I know, it’s hard to believe when there are pictures like this floating around the internets:
But that’s just silly stuff. It’s not real.
I’m trying to knock a few layers off. I don’t want to be a single layer. (Would that make me a bulb? Then I would have some growing up to do. God knows I don’t want that.) I think filters are important. Especially if you aren’t the legendary sort that can make a no filter policy work for you. My inner layer doesn’t always have the right thing to say. Sometimes passing my thoughts through a couple of layers is a good thing. It takes the edge off.
One of the main reasons I started to blog a million years ago was an attempt to be myself in front of other people. There are moments when I slip and let my filters take over. I hold back from posting my uglier layers. But even when I let go completely, nobody starts throwing stones. (I know- it’s too many metaphors. Sue me.) It’s most likely that people just don’t care enough. They have their own lives to deal with and can’t be bothered to care if I’m lusting after hot Montanaians at the gas pump or having shoot outs on the back 40. Or maybe my inner layer isn’t as unfortunate as I think. Maybe she can be let out a little more.
Remember when I said that I wanted to take a few risks this year? I wasn’t talking skydiving and rock climbing. I was talking about quiting my job, peeling a few layers off my onion (does that sound dirty to anyone else?), and trying to accomplish a couple of things that I have been putting off out of fear of failure.
I’m really trying not to hold myself back. I’m really trying not to trip over my own filters. It’s harder than it sounds.
Filed under - I Talk About Me A Lot, The Angst 2 Comments so far. Say something else
Previous Posts
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Jan 09, 2010
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Jan 04, 2010
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Jan 04, 2010
1 CommentBoys are Dirty
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Jan 01, 2010
4 CommentsNew day
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Dec 28, 2009
3 CommentsTime to wander in a homeward direction
I hit the wall at about eleven o’clock this morning. I’ve been wandering for eleven days. First my parents, then the Husband’s parents, and then the cabin. It’s been wonderful. I love traveling and seeing my family and my friends and eating food that I haven’t cooked and shopping places other than The Walmarts. I...
