I spend a lot of time thinking about myself. I don’t think it’s a vanity thing. I think it’s an identity thing. Truthfully, I think it stems from an identity crisis of sorts. Some time ago I wanted to impress someone to the point of oppressing my personality. He liked pancakes at 2am. I was an 8am egg girl, but I learned to make flapjacks his way, and worse, love them. His likes and dislikes became my own through tons of time pretending. I faked so much I forgot who I really was. Was I a girl who loved golf or one who couldn’t stand the game? Was I sweats and tee-shirt, stand at the fridge chugging milk from the carton, or was I white slacks and silk blouse sipping a mimosa? I was in conflict with who I really was but at the time, true to form, oblivious. Blind. Friends tried to warn me as I lost my name, but I was too busy booking my next tee time. Helpless in a sea of Helpfuls.
I do believe that everyone “gets” something from the people they come into contact with. Especially the long-time, intimate contacts. I’m not talking mono or an STD. I’m talking about personality shaped by connection. Particles of personality clinging to the psyche that is undeniably “you.” I have an affinity for grape soda, hot dog and green olive pizza, Enigma, and apples with cheddar cheese because of someone introducing them to me. I’m sure I would have discovered these things on my own because in the grand scheme of things they were destined to be “favorites” (regardless of how I got to them), but I’m grateful the direction that led me there that much sooner. I practice yoga because one of the most important people in my life showed me the way. I dont’ do it for her but I can honestly say it’s because of her. I carry my father’s way of answering mail. I mimic my mother’s mannerisms when meeting strangers. I’ve adopted things and made them my own. I think I can name a particle I’ve acquired from every boyfriend I’ve ever had, even the golf fanatic…despite the fact I’ve definitely dropped the game.
~*LunaSea*~ 