I am not a blogger.
I’m not like Mer or Jess or Bea – apparently you have to do more than have a blogging account and a monosyllabic name to be a real blogger. You have to talk about things and to people and not in flow-of-consciousness drivel that that loses its commitment to your cause a third of the way through.
I am not a cyclist.
I don’t ride like I know what the heck I’m doing. I ride like a motorist who just happens to be on a bike. And I don’t even have a bike anymore.
I am not a low-maintenance girl.
I have a huge problem with monogamy and emotion – I’m not good at practicing either of them. As it turns out, processing emotion is actually an integral part of forming and sustaining healthy relationships. Even when the emotions you’re processing are negative and you find out that what you thought was a house actually started as a trailer-home. Ideally, you’re supposed to deal with that and go on feeling happy fuzzy bunny feelings for the person who doesn’t want you in the way that you want them to.
I am not a photographer. ( Or an artist or a musician. )
No matter how badly I want to, I cannot take properly ex- or composed pictures. I can’t draw. I can’t play any instruments and I can’t really sing. I am not in any way artistic. ( Writing crappy poetry whose only value is shock value doesn’t count. )
I am not okay. #lyricalwisdom
No matter what I do, I will not be a cuter dyke than she is or sexy enough to engage him in the ways I want to. I will not be the child prodigy that everyone told me I should be or the incredible force that I always wanted to be.
The truth is, going to Egypt and living in England and sleeping with someone just because you want to don’t make you edgy or interesting or cool. Seeing the Eiffel Tower and eating cucumbers with lemon juice and salt doesn’t mean you’re worth anything. Having a list of 101 things that you desperately want to do so you can look back and say “See? My life was worth something! It was worth sky diving and one-thousand paper cranes.” doesn’t validate your existence or mean you did something great in your life. Ultimately, it just means you spent your time pursuing things instead of people, or people instead of relationships, or relationships instead of happiness. Or that you’re overly fond of lists.
Probably the last one.