The Girl Who Knew Too Much
Just me, a glass of wine and my neurotic ideas marked by compulsive thinkingThursday, January 16, 2003
An acquaintance of mine, fast on her way to becoming a good friend, gave me the address for her blog. (www.hellsbelle.blogspot.com for any interested takers). It was interesting to read her thoughts and hear her internal monologue that only sometimes finds its way into our conversations. It was both refreshing and enlightening to read her bear her sole to an internet diary and prompted me to think that maybe i would benefit from the same.
My life has changed drastically this year. Not only am i thinking differently and acting differently, but I'm also utterly alone. My birthday is next Saturday and usually i would view it as an occasion to receive loads of attention, have tons of friends come out and feel completely adored and in control. Lately my philosophy has been one of empowerment: taking my life into my own hands and solving the problems i had long resolved as unchangeable flaws--saying goodbye to insecurity and all the things I disliked about myself. Believe it or not, these things are changeable: you just have to have the strength to face them and not just bitch, mope and resign yourself to routine. In this process I have realized that needing social attention is a weakness. We are all beautiful, insightful people. Maybe if we lifted our faces as we walk down the street, turned off the TV and walkmans and just felt our personal energy we would understand this. There is so much beauty and power in each of us and it is important to know how to reach this "glowing center" (as my ultra-hippie yoga teacher used to say).
Most likely I sound very new age right now. I'm not, but maybe that's another problem with the way people think--why must every thought have a label? it is not a single thought that defines an idea or person, but the synergy that many thoughts create.
I am going for a drink now. Will pontificate more later. Please come read my diary and love me. I am such a hypocrite.
