Do you ever get tired of being yourself?
Like do you ever just get to realizing that you are really pretty uncool and boring and perhaps many other things far worse, like pretentious or annoying?
Or do you sometimes just get tired of the general attitude that marks your life?
Sometimes I get so tired of who I am. I can't seem to think of anyone I'd rather be, on the other hand, so I suppose I'm in the best place I can be. But sometimes I wish I acted differently or spoke differently (or didn't have the uncontrollable urge to go back and change "acted different" to "acted differently" or be unable to leave a comma splice where it is but rather proofread everything I write and ensure all commas are in their correct place...) Sometimes I wish I didn't think the way I do or always insist on being right.
I often wish my life's circumstances were different. Why couldn't I have been a musician instead of a writer? Why not a painter instead of a poet? (No one really like poetry anyway... I know I sure don't.)
Like most of what I have to say, there is no point to any of this. In fact, this is a minor bitch-fest. I am just tired of me! And there I go, thinking, "Hmm... that would make a cute (cliche) children's story--a girl who is tired of being herself and thus tries being different people but ends up realizing she was always meant to be just who she was..." Once a writer, always a writer, I suppose.
(Now that I'm out of college, I feel like I have earned the title "writer". My diploma proves it.)
And do you ever find yourself being who you think others would like you to be? I find that I actually do this quite often. I never before would consider myself one to commit such a crime, but if I'm honest, I do it all the time. Not to say I'm a Lying Lori and everything you've ever known about me is a lie (though it is-- I'm not really engaged to a Scotsman! Hah! Buffaloed!) Erm.... next paragraph.
Maybe this all more out of shame and embarrassment at often really liking who I am. Generally, I like me. Maybe at times like this I am struck with the reality of my vanity, and it's the vanity I hate. Because really I don't not like the things about me. Sure I think it would be cool to play the xylophone or be a painter, but I do indeed love to write. And I love being a Calvinist (perhaps I love the controversy?). But I do not like being vain. But what's the alternative? Self-loathing? Am I really supposed to not like myself? Erm... next paragraph.
I get to writing like this, and I can't seem to stop. (I did it again, fixed that almost-comma splice.) What do you say we go for a surprise twist ending?
Things I'll Miss in Scotland
1. Real peanut butter
2. Brilliant blue skies
3. My mommy
4. Southern accents
Things I Will Joyfully Embrace in Scotland
1. Irn Bru
2. Unnecessary U's
4. Rain and cold weather (jumpers)
5. Chicken pakora
6. A king size bed and sex