Every so often when I'm out and about, I meet these girls who are very pretty. Objectively, they are flawless; toned and fit, cheery and happy, have shiny hair and teeth, and talk about superficial things. Their outfits seem to manifest some kind of chic style and they're always very nice. For some reason, I can just never relate to these girls, as nice and pretty as they are. Perhaps they are a tad too "stable" for me and I get a little bored, or perhaps I wish I was as put together as they were.
Truth be told, that while I have things together for the most part, I'm a forward moving ball of highly emotional, yet fiery energy, who functions in a delusion that only I can really understand. Ask any of my closest friends and they can vouch for my overall quirkiness. Perhaps this is why I have always chosen careers that come with ample of downtime, alongside unpredictable amounts of intensely busy periods. Work hard, go fast, burn out, recuperate, and then do it all over again.
It sounds a bit crazy, but this black and white, up and down, and sometimes almost destructive messiness works for me. As I mentioned in my first post, experience is the best and potentially most brutal teacher for any twenty-something. And goodness knows I wouldn't know half the things I do if it weren't for my total disregard for responsibility, which surfaces from time to time. Partying being the most obvious one here, but really, how are we suppose to know not to drink all night and then try to go to work on no sleep unless you do it once...twice.....ten times? Or that we weren't actually physically able to take down ten shots of tequila, garnished with some vodka red bull. Or being naive enough to believe the guy who says "I'll call you tomorrow", hoping it turns into puppy love. You live and you learn.
I will never be one to fray away from jumping, catching, and chasing opportunities. Being unpredictable is a lovely quality I find in myself (I see heads shaking). I have never been one to give it all away at once, nor am I attracted to people who do so. Make me feel ANYTHING and I'll most likely like you. I'm intrigued and confused by people who make me feel emotion, as I'm never one to shy away from them either. I'm a big believer in feeling things out no matter how painful the process. I've noticed that many would rather push them aside and bury themselves in work or whatnot, just to not have to suffer internally. These people might be destined for some sort of catastrophic meltdown. How are we suppose to know who we are if we don't let ourselves feel what we should be? Of course, the shiny, happy, people may tell me otherwise, but sometimes you just need to cry it out. Shit happens. Freak out. And then carry on.
Even with my tolerance for the unstable mixed with my tolerance for emotions, I'm still naively optimist, blatantly confident, and have a blind faith in a perfect something that's bound to happen. Surely, those pretty girls are all very nice and shiny, but I choose mysterious, impetuous, while still being exquisite over that any day. In truth, no one else may get it, but until then, it's full speed on my quirky little wavelength!
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