A recurring theme in my mind, is hitting eighteen. I don't know why I have to make such a big deal out of this, but I am. I've let slip every age before this and I guess it was time for the reality of my short life span to set in.
I don't feel eighteen. Of course, I didn't expect to all of a sudden have a magic, ethereal feeling of being "eighteen" come over me. That's not what I mean at all. What I think I mean, is that I haven't felt my actual age for years. I've always felt painfully younger. As though every one else in the world the same age as me, were at one plateau and then I was on one significantly lower. Not that I am a worse person, simply that whatever reflections there are of my age are at an earlier developmental stage than everyone else of my age...
Oh man, what in the expansive bejeweled universe am I talking about? This sounds all wrong. Maybe I need to just out and say it and realize the full potential for ridiculousness of my statement. Sometimes in the uttering of a thought, is the realization of it's meaning. I've found that is often true throughout my life. So here goes. Brace yourselves, I'm bracing myself, for some reason, I seem to view myself as far less mature than the average eighteen year old.
There we go. I've had out. It's an interesting statement for me to mull over and probably laugh at. I think I judge myself by a wholly different factor than I should be. And the factors I judge myself by are significantly different than how I judge all of the other human beings in the world. We are our own worst critics. I am certainly my worst. I have a twisted and warped view of myself. I have constructed a fun house mirror of lofty ideals and standards and placed it before myself, and thus do I judge all of my actions, behaviors, emotions, and thoughts. I look in that mirror, and I can only ever see a distorted view of myself. I will never see a true reflection of who I am as long as I persist in using that mirror. No one can look perfect in it. No one can look accurate.
Well one day I'll take my high heels to it and crash it. One day. I don't know when. I want to give these self-lessons a positive closing statement and a happy ending, but sometimes it's hard for me. I've found that if I do give myself a goal to work towards, that in the end, I will live up to my happy ending. In a review of all my self-lessons, I am batting ten for ten in carrying out the morals of my stories in due time. I haven't carried out all of them yet, I will always have a batch to work on, but I guess every time in the past, I've been able to learn my lesson after long, grueling periods. So I'll crash my mirror some day. Some day.
And with the mention of heels, I am wearing some now. Oh yes, I'm playing Dress-Up. It's one in the morning as I'm finishing this up and yes, I'm in my pjs and wearing white heels. And my white corduroy blazer. And my tan fedora pulled low over my eyes. Yes, I feel ever so slightly idiotic to admit, but at the same time I am feeling... Very Awesome. Dart dash. Or maybe the word I'm looking for, is, sexy? Maybe, was it, incredibly so? (Cyrik, I will never forget that. Wow. That was the first time anyone has ever told me that. I'm still laughing.) I could have had so much fun with my web cam tonight.
Unfortunately, I put it away again, and my digital camera ate my last camera disc. My darling few adoring fans, I regret to admit that there shall be no striking photographs of my late night escapades tonight. I apologize sorely for I am just as disappointed as you are that I cannot have a photo record of my ludicrous antics. You'll just have to use your imagination...
Edit: I was able to get ONE picture! High heel goodness darlings! Faking my death again!
