Day One

What’s the use of being beautiful if there is no one to appreciate it.

Okay…I was feeling pretty good about myself look wise today. Incredibly so. Almost to a level of scary so. And I’ve come to the conclusion I’ve got a potentially vain bitch living inside me. I don’t think I care for her too much. I mean, yeah, she’s got the confidence I want (and obviously must have somewhere inside), but she’s got a bit of an attitude too. I think most of the time I’ve got this whole internal dialog going…Aside from when I’m running roleplay thoughts/plots/conversations/scenes through my head. [Which is how I decided that the vain bitch exsists.] 

For as long as I’ve remembered, when I’ve passed or seen a reflective surface, I looked. It’s like…I can’t think of the word I want…I feel compelled to look.  One would think someone like that wouldn’t have issues with their looks. Then again…I spent my ‘formative’ years (you know, those ones that are suppose to build you up and what not…ie. evil school years) with my oh so wonderful peers telling me I was ugly…Loverly kids, huh? But 1) It’s like that in a lot of places, I know. 2) I was an INDIVIDUAL, instead of a carbon copy…Tis the ‘Outcast’, for the simple fact that I couldn’t be anyone other than me.
During those years…I would tell myself what they said didn’t matter, that it didn’t effect me. Despite how many times one says that, those kind of things DO have an effect. I also got that whole speach that the other kids were just jealous. You know what, in that whole speach, you never are really told what those people are suppose to be jealous of.

It’s just little things that went by that effected me more than perhaps I realized. I love to sing…when no one can hear me. As I’ve always been sure my voice wasn’t good enough. Yet…There have been occasion that I’ve been told better. BUT…I think it’s the first thought that you get is the one that sticks the easiest. Here is my case point. In elementary school everyone tried out for choir, whether they wanted to or not. You didn’t get to pick if you wanted to do it or not. In music class, we’d line up and sing, each of us spending a minute or two standing where the teacher was playing the piano, line of kids behind us, waiting their ‘turns’ to ‘try out’. I wanted so badly to be in the choir. Yet…every year, each time, I was passed by. I think, perhaps that’s when I decided that I just couldn’t sing. If I could, wouldn’t the teacher have picked me? Yet…In middle school, I remember sitting in art class with those rock magazines that had the song lyrics in them. And a couple times I sat there, and sang (in a whisper, I’ll admit) to…There was Libby, and one other person, can’t recall who now. But if Libby knows anything, it’s her music. I remember singing ‘One’ by Metallica, and ‘Kiss me Deadly’ by Lita Ford. Libby told me I sounded a lot like her when I had sung. Even still…When Raya caught me singing on the phone, I quieted right up, embarrassed, sure my singing wasn’t worth listening to. Then the other night…Grim coaxed me into singing to him on the phone. He said I had a good singing voice. I really want to believe him…But it’s hard. I use to want to sing…Hell, let’s be honest, a part of me still does. I day dream about going out somewhere and having the courage to get up and sing. But 1) I still can’t get my self to think that I really could…and…2) The whole thought of getting up in front of people scares the hell out of me. [Which I think is due in part to always feeling like they are judging me, and judging me harshly.]

I use to think I’d like to be an actress…or a model…or a singer…any number of things. But there was always something…Something to hold me back, even if it was just a mental block. Those I guess are the hardest to get past.

Anyway…I changed the picture in the corner. Tis more me I feel.