who am i? who are you? and who is he?
I don't think I'm the only one with the identity crisis. I gave my blog a makeover to suit this entry. I think a large majority of us are struggling with ourselves. Especially us students out here: away from home, in a new environment, and in limbo between being a teenager and being an adult. Some people want to be everything they weren't in high school. Some don't get how being cool in high school means nothing here. Some just want a new look to suit their change in lifestyle. And some just want to fit in in Toronto.
I find myself happiest when I know I'm being me. This can be as simple as staying home when invited out. Talking for hours with an obscure stranger. Moving my hips to a deep beat. Listening to music because I like it, no matter how loud, or how embarrassing my choice may be. Laughing at myself. Crying. Laughing uncomfortably loud. Stepping outside of my comfort zone. Writing. Writing honestly.
I joined the gym. I sweat. I remembered my strength. I shared another strength by helping a friend with French homework. Let my tongue find the words they miss being able to touch. I cleaned, I vacuumed; I made my sanctuary as comfortable as it could be. Sewed the hole in my slipper. These actions are so simple, so small, they aren't exciting news (oh how disappointed my reporting teacher would be), but they are me. They are what I know and what keep me sane.
Now I sit in solitude, music serenading me, words out of my head, through my fingertips, and onto the screen. And I feel at ease with me.
I find myself happiest when I know I'm being me. This can be as simple as staying home when invited out. Talking for hours with an obscure stranger. Moving my hips to a deep beat. Listening to music because I like it, no matter how loud, or how embarrassing my choice may be. Laughing at myself. Crying. Laughing uncomfortably loud. Stepping outside of my comfort zone. Writing. Writing honestly.
I joined the gym. I sweat. I remembered my strength. I shared another strength by helping a friend with French homework. Let my tongue find the words they miss being able to touch. I cleaned, I vacuumed; I made my sanctuary as comfortable as it could be. Sewed the hole in my slipper. These actions are so simple, so small, they aren't exciting news (oh how disappointed my reporting teacher would be), but they are me. They are what I know and what keep me sane.
Now I sit in solitude, music serenading me, words out of my head, through my fingertips, and onto the screen. And I feel at ease with me.
posted by Gillian Young at 4:29 PM
1 Comments:
Dearest Gill, I doubt your reporting teacher would be disappointed. It's the small detail that people love - or such is my experience. It's the square of chocolate taken from the refrigerator at 2 a.m. when no one is looking, the wrapper closed carefully around the bar - the way it was found - so that another in the household will not know at a glance, that speaks so eloquently of your need for privacy. It's the description of seeing a loved one's coat in the front closet, hanging innocently enough, that stops you short, that you can't help rubbing your nose into, that shows rather than tells of your love.
I am happiest being me too but the problem is that I don't always know what is me. Often it's trial and error. Yes, it's stepping outside one's comfort zone where discoveries are made. Enjoy your experiments!
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