PRESS PLAY AND READ. PLEASE.
I'm writing again. That's a good thing. I just happily, head in the clouds, finished a good solid 3/4 day, with lunch break, of working on a book I haven't touched for at least three years. Fear? Maybe. No time? Certainly. Lack of confidence. Most definitely.
What you don't know about me is that I have control issues. Perfect-ism issues to be honest, and to the pointed point. I can't even write a blog post without changing a trillion minuscule things a million times both before (and upon) publication, and it will still never be--perfect. I'm not sure when it began. Maybe when I was 16. Possibly 17. AND, it's not that I want to be--
perfect. Flawless. Complete. I do. And, I don't. It's a continuous battle between mind and body, that has nothing to do with appearance.
And fully aware.
I am the only person that can do what I need to do to make myself feel what I feel--and be who I am. Which is not. Perfect. I do strive for (not) feeling burdened. ALWAYS. Control helps me feel less. Weighted. Not literally, of course. Weight is just weight. (Ahhh, if only I could slap my 17 year old face and make her aware of that. She may have risen above stupidity, and acknowledged that 'Holy s**t, who gives a f**k'.)
So. I control things. Sometimes perfectly, but generally far from--not.
And control is funny, because generally there is so very little one can--control.
Some notable things I have no control over:
People who wear their PJ's in public.
Libraries (I know I work at one).
Convenience stores (I know because my daughter and I went into one on a typical spring, almost summer, evening , dressed as we always dress, you know, with actual clothes, and we came face to face with another mother and daughter (maybe dressed as they always dress on a typical spring, almost summer evening, you know, in novelty PJ bottoms.)
BUT then I care little for my judgement upon my judge-rs because me...in my vintage-y dress, and very VERY peacock blue tights, and my daughter in a cute black crop top and a flow-y floral skirt that fell just above her knees.
Full out eye rolls.
Between Mother and Daughter.
May have curled my lip into a snarl against their snarly snares.
I do that.
Even though I am extremely passive and generally very nice.
(When I smile rainbows leave my mouth to land as perfect wild flowers to surround my feet)
And I had to.
In that moment.
That leads me to expressions I have no control over that exist in our world that people actually use in everyday conversation in imperfect ways that irk me like I have never been irked, and I will admit, if asked: It is you, not me.
They say: 'Have a good one.'
I say: Thanks
They say: 'Will do.'
I say: Thanks
They say: 'Give 'er' (I imagine with enthusiasm)
Admittedly, no one has ever actually said "Give 'er" to me, (because I'm a lady--curtsy) so I have never actually had to comprehend a response to GIVE' ER.
It is real.
According to Urban Dictionary (which we know is true because it's on the internet):
1. To act in reckless disregard.
2. A form of permission.
3. A suggested course of action.
"Give'er Terry, give'er, give'er, give'er!
I've LITERALLY seen it on vehicular stickers of such, and belt buckles. (For real.)
Morrissey FUN fact: He has been known to wear two watches.
Fun fact: I'm going to buy him a 'Give 'er' belt buckle for his 59 birthday.
("He might not wear it," she shrugged. She didn't care. Not really.)
Anyhow, control. Yeah. I can't control my control issues. "Meh." (INSERT VERY REAL SHRUG HERE)
But, AND, for now, I'm just going to buy myself an Urban Dictionary mug to match Morrissey's new belt buckle. "How cute would that be?" she said, knowing very well (dot, dot, dot)
P.S. Something that makes me smile, that I just realized I do as I was doing it. I appear to love LOVE fragmented sentences. They remind me of cracks in pavement. Imperfectly perfect.
Wearing the very outfit that judged me as unworthy in a PJ wearing town.
Dress: Gap, via Gap; coffee and bleach stains that I had no clumsy control over, via me; Embracing Imperfection: priceless
Sweater: (with super cute rhinestones that sparkle with refracted light when the sun hits them!): Jacob, via this cool second hand store I have been shopping at since I took my first breath
Tights: Old Navy, $6.99ish
NOT SHOWN: The Tick, and Lyme Disease I acquired taking these pictures. Cringe.