two thousand nikki sixx

supposedly pursuing a counseling degree should unravel a softer, more humbler me. a me that is lighter and happier and fluffier around the edges. a me that gives hugs and nods when engaged in conversation with shoulders squared, facing you, you who shares what you would never thought you would or could or should. a me who shines upon you my sparkling eyes, my windowed peepers that are clean and free of dusty muck. a me that is genuine. truthful. worked out. and healthy.

unfortunately, i'm rebellious. i'm a dangerous spirit who shouts away any emerging form of authority. and this whole counseling thing is making me a motley crue of a lady. i have never--EVER!--been the darkest girl in the room. just ask my sisters. if anything i have been a damn good faker most my life, yelling at my mother as she pulled up to our junior high school in our ratty-rusty station wagon about how fucked up she was and how fucked up we were and then the moment i opened the door to join my friends at the front steps of the entry i'd smile and bat my lashes and pretend that all was fine and perfect.

i was popular goddamnit.

but here's a secret i never thought i'd share: being popular is hard work! it requires alot of concealing and masking and faking and dieting and dressing and socializing and primping and gossiping. and this is work i refuse to take part in anymore. (well, minus the gossiping...that's always a good time.) i have spent enough fucking time in my life pleasing others and now i'd like to think the only person i need to please anymore is me.

i think this is why i have had a hard time keeping up with my blog. ever since mid-terms last semester i have resented logging onto typepad, spilling my guts for you, the adoring public, to read and sponge up and laugh a little and maybe even learn about how i experience the world. and i know, i know, i asked for this. i did. but suddenly i was recieving attention from all four of you about how good my writing is, how funny i can be, how i should keep it up, keep writing.

and me, little ole me, what did i do? i withdrew. scared to death i might disappoint my narrow, miniscule audience. afraid i couldn't please you.

but i've been thinking and it really has nothing to do with the audience and everything to do with me.

you see, apparently, i've been growing. i'ma changing and shedding and feeling and learning more about who this bundle of energetic nerves is inside my skin. and you know what i realized? i'm frazzled and i'm frayed and i had no idea i cared about my percieved image as much as i do.

and i know the three coats of mascara i put on every morning should've manifested as some sort of clue, but this never occured to me, i swear it's true.

could i blame it on my alcoholic father? of course. could i blame it on being the middle child? why not. but i guess i'm gonna go ahead and take that fucker of a high road and do the noble thing: take responsbility.

damn. i hate that! doesn't that me liable? adult like? and, dare i say it, accountable?

and being all these things has made me a little meaner, a little more selfish. i have been canceling plans left and right with people because i'm simply tired of being social. lately i prefer to be alone so i can read and watch movies and pet my dog and listen to music. but i think this might rude. is it?

cause in my classes at school i'm the outcast. i really am. i'm the one who makes mean jokes about being vulnerable and the one who squirms in her seat everytime i have to share my feelings. i'm the one who after dying her dark brown freaked everyone out because when someone asked me why i did it, i said, 'its better than cutting myself.'

and i was kidding! i really was, but no one got it. no one thought it was funny. in fact, everyone just looked at me, all dead in the face, like maybe i should double book myself an appointment in the counseling clinic that week.

but i walked away, smiling, knowing i shocked the preacher's wife and the 19 yr. old master's student and the do-gooder cop and the elementary school teacher who still lives with her parents and totes a virginity ring on her left hand ring finger.

and this is when i realized i wasn't pleasing them, i was just being me and i didn't give a rat's ass if i was popular with them or not. and i think this was the first time in my life that i really didn't care. and it became contageous, because i began to analyze every single action i was taking and how many of them were contingent on pleasing others. i realized that a few of my friendships were about me being someone else to please the other person, so that they would like me and find me charming. but i don't need the validation anymore.

i don't even want it.

i'd rather have you, my narrow and discrete audience, my small balanced world of polarity. filled with people who know my darkness and who embrace it and who aren't afraid of it and who laugh at it and don't judge me or worry about me cause i'm doin' alright. i'm just fine and i like the lurky murky puddles of dysfunction that pave the sidewalks of my life. cause that's all i got and i don't give a flying shit why it unfolded this way. it just did.

Comments

[Bill]

I don't care wahat anyone says.....self mutilation is fucking hilarious!

[jennifer]

See, for me, reading your blogs inspires me to think about my own life. I was at this point a couple of years ago. Instead of jumping into another design job when I lost the last one, I took some time to really figure out what I wanted to do, and now that I've figured that out, it's time to start doing it. So you do inspire, at least me, to think about my own life and changes. You're not just pleasing me, you're inspiring me! Keep it up!

[shari]

i agree with bill, self mutilation is just good comedy. you are definitely not too dark, you're just not used to mingling with conservatives. if they don't like the cutting humor try a little abortion joke next time, maybe you just have to find their funny bone?