Archive for the ‘Pretentious-ness’ Category
Fuel and Fear and Still Hoping
I met him on the northern lip of campus today wondering if it would be today, finally, that we got things out into the open. It wasn’t, but it was still so, so amazing.
He was standing there, chuckling at the wrong half-turn I’d made, and then he handed me motorcycle jacket, helmet, and gloves while I looked on apprehensively. I put my arms through the heavy fabric, squeezed into the helmet, and lifted my head as he buckled it for me. Then I slipped my hands into the gloves and watched, nervous and excited, as he wheeled the bike onto the street and motioned for me to get on. I clambered aboard, and we were off.
Be Something Else
It’s one of the foremost themes in my life, certainly one that underlies so many of my actions: Be something other. Be something else. Sei etwas anderes.
I know that every girl out there thinks she’s special, that she’s something else, and I believe that every girl (and every man) out there is because as corny as it sounds we are all different, but I also understand that when we are out there in the world milling around trying to make something of ourselves, when most of the human contact we have in a day are twenty-second interactions (order a coffee, ask the nice girl next to you if she did the reading last night, eye the cute guy passing you on the street, hold the door open for the person coming in behind you), we really all are a dime a dozen. We all of us fade into the background, and that tiny brush of connection we have with each of those people become one of a million.
So how do I be one in a million? Because that’s who i want to be. I know that some people dont like the public’s eye, dont want to be noticed, feel safe in the crowd, but I dont want to be that nameless face. My roommate tells me that I like to say things that shock people; the guy I like notes that I always wear bright, eye-grabbing footwear. I do it on purpose, both subconsciously and consciously. I do it because I want to be remembered. I want to be different.
I honestly, honestly believe that I’m one in a million. I’m the quirky, witty, dirty-minded, chipper girl you just can’t bring down. I really do think I’m something other…But sometimes I wonder—how many other girls think that? All of them? Maybe. Most of them? Probably. When you are yourself, when you live in your own person, of course you see things no one else sees (although you also dont see things everyone else sees, I admit), and you dont feel exactly the same as anyone else. Of course you’re going to think you’re that someone other. But the people you have these twenty-second interactions with—they dont see that. And maybe most of the people you come to know in your life dont even see that.
What I want—what I want more than anything—is for that boy to see me as I see myself. Different. Etwas anderes. I want to be, for him if not for everyone or anyone else, that one in a million. I want to be special for him. I know I’m special, but if he’s going to love me, he has to know it too.
Why I’m Afraid
All these last posts; almost every single one of them have shared a theme (besides the obvious one): I’m afraid.
It occurred to me last night in a dull flash of realization, that maybe there is more to my funny than just funny. Sparked by a conversation with Leone, but really an idea all of my own. I’d been marveling about how we’d spent FIVE HOURS talking, and most of it meaningless jokes without any real substance.
The Only Way I Know How
You wouldn’t believe how often I’m scared that I’m doing this wrong. I dont think this is how most girls do it.
Most girls show a little sweetness, bat their eyelashes, flip their hair. Flash him a smile because they know they’ve got him right where they want him. Draw him in, loosen the line, draw him in, loosen the line.
They impress him with their skill on the soccer field. Compliment him. Slyly find their way into his heart.
They discuss with him music they both like, things they both did. Families. Hobbies. Hopes, dreams, and aspirations.
They dont lick their lips. They dont look too eager, not even when it’s mostly sarcastic. Their conversations with him dont consist of raunchy joke after raunchy joke. They are ladies. They dont talk too dirty. They play innocent. They dont discuss sex. It’s obvious they’re looking for a boyfriend, not a sex buddy.
But not me.
I dont think I’m doing this right, but this is the only way I know how to do this. This is the only way I know how to be me. This is me, and this is who I am, and if he doesn’t like who I am then it doesn’t matter what I do, because he is good for me in so many ways, but I’m not changing the core of who I am for him. I (dont) like him, but he’s not worth it.
But I dont think I’m doing this right. I dont think I’m sending the right signals.
But these are the only signals I know how to send.
I dont think I’m doing this right, but by god this is the only way I know how to do it.
What You Call Faults, I Call Quirks*
I’m feeling listy today.
1. I avoid confrontation like the plague.
While this makes me an easy person to get along with, it also makes my own life harder in many ways. When my roommate plays her MUSIC THAT I’VE HEARD A MILLION TIMES AND WHICH I DONT EVEN LIKE IN THE FIRST PLACE, THANKS BITCH do I tell her politely to please turn it down? No, I grin and bear it (and rant, here). When my best friend just assumes his clingy boyfriend is invited to every time the two of us hang out (because apparently when he has a boyfriend (which is 90% of the time I’ve known him) they become ONE PERSON such that if I want to hang out with one I have to hang out with both) do I ask him for one day without having to worry about trying to include his bf, one day where we can just let loose like we used to? No, I grin and bear it (and rant, here).
