Being comfortable in my own skin…

My thanks to Aravis, Hawkote, and SamIAm for their kind words of hope, advice and all that jazz. But really, it’s nice to know that someone is reading this thing!

Despite yesterday’s unnerving experience with a person who loves to dabble and reform in their own image, I am secure in my Self. I am finally becoming comfortable in my own skin after too many years of not. I attribute all of this to AA and the Steps and what they teach me about myself. It’s funny, though, how there will always be people in my life who do not agree with the littlest things about me, as if my own life’s quirks are their pet peeves. I really have no desire to create someone in my image. Perhaps that’s why I think those reality ‘makeover’ shows (take your pick) are complete and utter bunk and not even worth a laugh. All I can think of are those poor people with a perfectly normal, solid, livable ranch-style house in the suburbs who are suddenly left with a medieval castle made of cheap goods from Big Box stores, WalMart, and Home Depot. I read somewhere, actually, that one of those shows ran over the time limit and so they packed up and split, relegating the huge cost of rebuilding, repairing, and cleanup to the owner of the home. There were lawsuits and the owner won but it put a spotlight on just how cheap and crappy these makeovers really are.

So what I’m getting at is there is no point in being something you’re not. If I choose to be a hip kinda guy, it’s because I am already and different clothing will not improve that Self. The new facade will probably just look ersatz and tawdry, as if I have something to hide or am compensating for a lack of verve.

In the cooking world it is well known that the only reason the French are so fond of sauces is so they can cover up lesser cuts of meat or fish.

I am trying to put some permanent links to other folks’ blogs, but I don’t know how or even if I can with a free blog. I may have to update and get a paid site. Oh well, I’ll figure it out…

Johnnyboy

Strange day…

What a weird day. I woke up this morning and started my day as usual—meditation, coffee, newspaper, and then some schoolwork. A friend called around 10am and invited me to go with her to a nearby town with her while she ran some errands. She asked me a very personal question on the drive there: “Have you thought about a career?”

My answer was the same as it has always been: I’m back in school to figure that out. It was obvious that this wasn’t enough for her, so I had to elaborate on how my life has been turned upside down in the past 3-4 years, my felony conviction prevents me from entering certain careers, and how I’m trying to figure this out in my own time. 19 months in a maximum security jail also tends to have a lasting effect on a person. I suddenly felt such huge pressure, as if the question was actually being fielded from many people and filtered through her.

On the way home she started talking about how I needed to have a relationship with someone( what are we going to do about you?), get back out there, etc…Then she started in on my glasses (I’m near sighted). I asked her if she liked them and she said “No, they remind me of my father’s glasses. You need something chic and Euro.” Now, I’ve tried the little glasses, round and not round, and I don’t look good in them. Also the frames or edges of the lens catches my eye and puts strain on the ocular muscles and pulls my eyes out of focus. I explained this to her and also how I don’t buy into the media-driven image of beauty and style, seeing it as just another way to influence consumerism and a false sense of Self. “If someone is going to love me,” I said, “It will not be because of what I wear.”

That seemed to put the kabosh on the subject, thank The Force.

So now I’m wide awake at a time when I should be asleep. My mind is spinning with all this crap about image/self-image, the grinding rumor mill concerning my past, and all the things I shouldn’t be worrying about. I know that what people think of me is not my business, but the urge to fit in and be just like everyone else will always be strong in me.

I am fortunate to not be in dire financial straits. I do not dress flamboyantly, choosing muted earthtones as my colors. I do not laugh uproariously, or create passionate drama wherever I go. I am more subdued, calm, cerebral, and patient. I have seen enough in my life so far to not be surprised or shocked by anything or anybody. Frankly, a lot of things I find pretty boring and hohum. It takes a really good joke to unseat me. So I think that this physical and mental presence that I have makes people think that I’m holier-than-thou, or something. Actually I’m just listening, being quiet, pensive. I’ll let other people run around like madmen if they want. I’ll watch.

What I find exciting would probably bore a lot of people as well, but not me. Strange how that works. I’m probably not much different than many other people I know.

I chose my glasses because they were a good practical shape, not too noticeable, and lightweight. Not because they were “in” style. I am somewhat sensible about these things, not so sensible about others.

I am not a Puppet, nor a window mannequin. Play dressup-dolly with someone else’s head.

Johnnyboy