SOMETIMES I’m in the mood to write these columns and other times I’m not. I think I’m kind of tired of just putting it all out there and having every Tom, Dick and Harry judge me. I was told that when you write a column that is to be expected. I guess it is. It’s just really exhausting to be misunderstood all the time.
Then again that really is the story of my life. Being misunderstood, I mean. I do think it has a lot to do with the half foreign thing. You fit in here, but you don’t quite fit in. When you go back to the UK it’s the same. British, but not quite British. All my half-half friends feel the same. Going through life trying to figure out who you are is hard enough without having the added pressure of not quite knowing quite where you fit in.
To be totally honest, it was a lot harder as a teenager. Now in my 30s I don’t mind being different and I’ve come to see it has major perks, one being the lack of a hairy upper lip and sideburns. Then again, thanks to electrolysis and any number of talented beauticians we have here, even facial hair wouldn’t be a problem. In fact I remember a time when I’d have given my front teeth to bear the telltale burns of hot wax around my mouth. OK I jest, but what I mean is, there was a point I was so desperate to fit in. Everything I did was wrong. Nobody understood me. Basically I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin. I think a lot of that has to do with growing up and self acceptance. The fact that I was also above average looking was a problem as it made me the victim of jealous jibes.
Here we go again say some, she’s about to go on about how beautiful she is. No, not true at all. I have no need to do that. How I look is my business and the beholder’s. That I’m above average though, is true. To pretend I think I’m average would be falsely modest and rather nauseating. In fact I much prefer a woman to admit she’s gorgeous. I have plenty of gorgeous friends and tell them so every day. Most of them know they’re stunners and are comfortable with that. And why shouldn’t they be? They thank God for their beauty and charm. It’s a gift they were given, so why not enjoy it. I think it’s such a waste to go through life running yourself down all the time and making yourself miserable. What the hell is the point? There are plenty of people who are only too happy to do it for you, so why make it even harder on yourself?
Sometimes, when I’m feeling really shitty, I allow myself a day or two to wallow. I tell my friends to do the same.
“So you fucked up? So you slept with someone you shouldn’t have? So you went out and got really drunk and came on to one of your oldest friends and totally offended his date? So what? We all do it! Don’t be cruel to yourself. Don’t let it get you down because we’ve all done it and we’ll likely do it again. It’s part of growing up and living.”
I think I like to live on the edge. I am forever getting myself into trouble and very often wake up groaning over my antics of the previous night. Overall though I have a lot more fun than most people I know. I also find people are attracted to my positive energy. I tend to surround myself with people equally positive and who share the same motto as me: that a day without laughter is a day wasted. That is so true.
Life is already hard enough for us to take it too seriously.
I think we were born to give and receive love. No, I’m not talking sex. I’m talking about love. OK sex does come into it sometimes, especially when there’s an emotional, intellectual and spiritual connection between two people. It’s as if you’re communicating by making love, which in my experience is an extremely powerful exchange of energy that is quite magnificent in its release.
But enough about sex like that, because it doesn’t happen very often which is too depressing for words. I think that could be because a lot of people just look at it as a physical release when it is so much more than that. And no, I don’t think you should have to wait to be married to experience it. I’m rather more free spirited than that. And again that doesn’t make me a slag. In fact I’ve recently decided that you’re only a slag if you feel you’re a slag, and even then you’re not a slag. It’s these sly men and women who do things underhand that get to me. The ones who are open and embrace their sexuality are the ones I admire. Why should you be ashamed of who you are and your expression of that person? Everyone is beautiful in their own right. Everyone has an inner god and goddess just bursting to get out. Some people are less afraid to get in touch with that inner being. Others go through life forever afraid of unleashing that inner soul. It’s such a shame, since we are all ethereal creatures just waiting to break free.
Bloodyhell, I sound like one of those New Age Hobos in this ramble of mine today. I don’t really mean to. Nor do I even really know what a New Age Hobo is. I just didn’t know what to write and all I knew was that I didn’t want to write about how sick and tired I am of men. True, it’s rather fun to men bash because they’re such easy targets and some of them really are full of shit, but overall they’re not really all bad eggs. I mean if they were why would I have three or four on the go at a time? And again, no, I’m not having sex with three or four men, I’m flirting with them. But so what if I was having sex with them? That would be my business and theirs. Not yours or anyone else’s. Here I go again worrying about being misunderstood and having to explain myself when really I shouldn’t bother. At the end of the day you go through life being misunderstood, when all you have to do is learn to accept and love yourself the way you were created, because as my younger sister would say, you’re perfect just the way yo
u are: you just have to learn to see it.
