Who I Am.

My 2014 New Year’s Resolution was to continue being lazy, which means I’ll be blogging regularly again henceforth. Reverse Psychology, I’m making you my bitch. Starting today.

So, kicking this thing off… who am I? Lots of things, if I were to list them all. An artist, although I don’t spend enough time arting. A writer – one who certainly doesn’t spend nearly enough time writing. I’m a wife and mother, a kitchen witch, a sarcastic bitch, an enthusiastic dancer and an avid reader.

I’m a beta mom living the lifestyle of an alpha mom.

I am unsure of myself in most social situations and slow to open up to groups of people I am unfamiliar with. Shy, often painfully so. I generally don’t make the first move to create conversation with anyone unless I know them well (or until I’ve had an alcoholic beverage or two), and I’m most definitely not as cool or as awesome or as fascinating as everyone else around me and I never will be, simply because I am myself. I’m irreparably awkward.

Ask anyone who knows me if those last few statements are accurate and they’ll probably laugh at you, shaking their heads in disbelief because I’m always so pleasant and talkative and outgoing in public. Locally, people know who I am. I don’t blend in – my physical features make me pretty easy to spot. My hair is normally infused with some shade of bright coloring (typically hot pink as it’s my signature hue, although I’ve worn just about every color under the sun at one time or another) and I tend to stand out from the crowd for that reason alone. But I don’t do it because I want to draw attention to myself. I just like the vivid colors and I enjoy experimenting with my hair – as an artist, it’s one more medium for me to fiddle around with constantly.

To the casual viewer, I look every bit the social butterfly and “It Girl” that some people perceive me to be. I am approachable, from what I’ve been told by others. You need something done, you come to me and I’ll handle it – I’m your girl. I will be on top of that shit.

Long ago, I took to heart some advice which, I’m paraphrasing here, basically said: “Envision yourself to be the person you want to be, and you will eventually become that person.” I’m still kinda waiting for that to happen so in the meantime I fight my way through an active social life by forcing myself to assume the role of the alpha female I outwardly project. On the inside, I’m as beta as they come. Beyond beta, really. I’m whatever Greek letter comes after beta.

Ceta?

Centriphicus?

Cinnamon… bun.

I’m grossly undereducated, as well. And now I’m craving a cinnamon bun.

How in the hell I manage to get myself into situations where I am responsible for leading people and running Things, I’ll never understand. I constantly have to conduct myself as the extrovert that I am not. I have to admit, it is equal parts rewarding and exhausting. My overwhelming desire to be helpful must go to unbelievably great lengths in order to trump my crippling social anxiety the way that it does. “What is it, Lassie? Someone needs assistance?” I’m there. Like a spandexed superheroine, fisted hands resting upon my hips with my ample bosom gallantly inflated, a majestic cape fluttering in the wind behind me and everything.

I can’t say no to someone in need. This is how I get wrangled into doing all sorts of Things.

My one saving grace is knowing deep down that it’s all for good cause. I figure I’m putting my time in now so when the kids move away and I go full-on creepy hermit later in life, I can look back and say I did Stuff. Important stuff that benefited my community and the small world around me. Hopefully they’ll say I was a valued citizen who contributed much goodness to society before I died, leaving a palpable void where once I stood and the inconsolable masses… well, they shall woefully mourn my untimely end.

Or something like that.

For right now, I am the volunteer editor and publisher of the monthly community newspaper for the rural area in which I live, putting out a new issue to over 2,000 homes every month because no one else wanted to do it. I admit, I really do enjoy the work – aside from occasionally dealing with irreconcilably unpleasant people, which thankfully is a rare occurrence these days. I’m also the president of the PTO because everyone wanted me to do it and I couldn’t let them down. I have to speak to groups on a regular basis (sometimes with a microphone, holy shit!), I have to answer questions and make decisions and act as the guiding hand of the organization and be on the front line of various activities and events throughout the year. Most of the time I feel like I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I just kind of ride this Wave Of Constant Uncertainty and hope that shit works out in the end.

In a way, I suppose that’s what we all do, isn’t it? Life doesn’t come with a User’s Manual. Even if it did, how many of us would take the time to read it, anyway?

 

Well, I would. I’m an avid reader, after all.

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