Becca and I were recently having a conversation regarding things about our lives, personalities, histories..that we keep private. She didn't know the can of worms she opened. Trust me. Becca is by nature a more guarded person than I am. I have, since as far back as I can remember, been an open book. I think that I figured out that I air out my shortcomings, faults, mistakes, sins .....in an effort to rid myself immediately of people who wouldn't accept the "real me". I figure it would hurt too much to care about someone and then once they realized who I "really am" took off running for the hills.
The earliest example of this behavior, that comes to mind, was back around 1987. I was in the fifth grade. I so badly wanted to fit in. I was playing basketball with some girls and guys.....and Shawn E. said to me.."What the hell is that?" and pointed to the bow in my hair. It seemed pretty obvious to me what it was. I replied, "It is a bow, that is what the hell it is." (I know I am cool....fifth grade cool. NOT! ;)
Fast forward a couple of days. It is now the weekend. I am feeling SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO guilty about saying a cuss word. I am at my aunts house in her bathtub taking a bath and my mom comes in to make sure I am cleaning up....and I, succumbing to the pressure of the guilt, confess to my mom that I said a cuss word....and start bawling.
Now in hindsight, and as a parent now myself, I realize the humor of this. She HAD to have went back into the kitchen and died laughing telling my aunt about me and my cuss word confession. Even in the fifth grade I was nuts. I mean seriously... my parents were not martyrs.... they occasionally cussed, drank....etc. Heck, they gave me my first sip of beer when I was in elementary school. (side note: still hate the stuff, maybe that is why I don't drink it, or much else, to this day....) So why do/did I have such high standards for myself.....I don't think my parents saddled me with expectations... Because I am crazy, that is why! Now, in 2006 the standards are much different. I don't call my mom everytime I cuss... or fail in life, but I still take note, and I still want reassurance of love from those around me.
I guess I keep it real. It sounds good in theory. You know, being totally honest with people about yourself....but where is the mystery....the intrigue. There isn't any. I am who I am....and that can be pretty boring. It would be kind of nice for people not to know EVERYTHING about what made me who I am today. You know, that way, when in conversation with someone I could pull out a trump card and say.."Oh yeah, well one time I did this.........(fill in the blank)...." hence, leaving their mouths agape. But I think it is pretty safe to say "THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN". Where is my sense of adventure....and fun?
Soooooooooooooooooo, In the spirit of fun and adventure, I now open the forum...."Ask me whatever you want. I am an open book."