Coming Out
I don’t know if you caught that I spilled some of my deepest, darkest secrets over the last few days. I won’t share the links, because my pronouncements came amid some ugliness, but here’s a recap…
I am a…well…not a feminist. Since labels seem to be so important around here, we’ll go with non-feminist. I’m not here to apologize, and I don’t want to be educated, I’m simply making it clear because I’m tired of dancing around it.
I also blurted out that by being kind, and by teaching kindness and tolerance to my daughter and students, I felt I was doing enough. I made it clear I extend that kindness to myself as well, by not feeling guilty for the ugliness in the world. What does that solve?
I said, maybe in not so many words, I believe that oppressors are the only ones who should feel guilty about oppression.
And, finally, I let it slip that I love bad puns. Please forgive me.
Anyway, I read a piece the other day that said if you want people to read your work, you shouldn’t write about yourself…that nobody’s here to read your diary. And I thought, “What’s wrong with a diary? How can you get more authentic than that? And what’s so important about green hearts, anyway?”
It was an epiphany.
Now, I have a new goal. To be as authentic as I possibly can. These are my words and, as long as I am not hurting anybody, I can write random thoughts about whatever trivial and/or unimportant things I like.
Fabulous!
So, in the spirit of me doing me, I thought there were a few more things you might as well know now (in no particular order).
First, I’m positive. I tend to read positive pieces and gravitate toward positive writers. I prefer to look on the positive side whenever possible. In short, I probably get on people’s nerves. I know life can’t always be sunshine and rainbows, but it doesn’t have to be so negative. And so loud.
I will likely write about my fitness goals. My health is a huge priority for me, and I’m no longer afraid to bore you with the details. I think accountability is an amazing thing.
I don’t believe the world is doomed. Enough said.
I’m a nature freak. I become almost giddy when I see orioles or indigo buntings, or the cute, little wren that’s been hanging out. I love the scent of fresh mint and lavender and basil. I stop dead in my tracks when I spot a hummingbird. I feel almost manic when my favorite flower bed comes into full bloom. I am intoxicated by fall colors.
I am a seriously imperfect writer. I have a tendency to over-comma everything, and have a fondness for parenthesis and elipses. Apparently, I veer back and forth between the active and passive voice. But, I love words…I seem to have found mine again.
And here’s one I’ve never told anyone…
I’m addicted to my battery operated weed-whacker. I love that thing so much I could do a commercial. I’ve had to cut my trimming time in half because I was using it so much, it was getting to be a serious pain in the neck…literally.
I know. TMI.
Anyway, I’ve seen people on here (over and over, in fact) encouraging others to speak their truth. Here’s my truth:
My life is f-ing beautiful.
So, there you have it. If you can accept all these things about me and still want to keep reading, great! If I make you uncomfortable or annoyed, then don’t read my diary. Simple as that.
This whole thing reminds me of a Tyler Hilton song:
♪♫ I am what you see, I am not what they say, but if I turned out to be, could you love me anyway ♪
