Self Loathing: Part 3

Someday I will be who I am and not who they want me to be:

i'm a realist bordering on pessimism and i am HIGHLY self critical, and on top of all that, i think i may be manic (self diagnosed of course) from time to time. in other words, what i really love one day, i might not be able to stand the next. (some days i'm pretty and some days i'm a troll).

now, all of this would be bad enough on it's own, but i've run into another problem since my book became available. i had consciously, and painstakingly decided not to edit out any of the more controversial themes / poems in my book because in my mind, they are some of my strongest examples of life (and of my writing). but in my messed up little cranium, i actually had this novel belief that the people buying my book would be STRANGERS. not my best friend's dad or my aunt with 2 teenagers. it really freaks me out! and i know that my parents would be infinitely happy if they knew (no, they don't know at the moment) that i published a book, but then the contents might just crush them. or maybe it wouldn't...? i just don't know.

what its almost like in my head is a very minor version of coming out. PLEASE don't hate me for saying that, because i can't even begin to understand how hard telling your family and friends you're gay must be, but this book is almost like my own tiny coming out party.

i've never been very good at taking criticism, which, you might point out to me, is not a very easy trait for a writer to have. but i'm sensitive, even though i pretend not to be, and i worry (constantly) about almost everything. so with my aunt (who already has the book on the way to her house) telling me that the book "sounds dirty" just based on the name, and the fact that a few of the poems on the inside are actually a lot dirtier than the name of the book, i'm a little anxiety ridden.

at this point i almost wish i could heavily self medicate and hold my own book signing. get it all out there in the open. declare myself a writer with a occasionally dirty and fractured mind. tell them all who i am, and stop apologizing.

easier said than done.

Getting old:

it's sad that i identify so well with high school students. i mean, crap, one of my favorite blogs to follow is written by a teenager. i get REALLY freaked out when i realize that some time soon teenagers are going to look at me and instead of thinking she's a little older than me, they'll be thinking, why is that old woman wearing those hip clothes with tattoos and piercings and saying dude and rad? omg. HUGE fear. but i have to say that i don't do or say those things BECAUSE i'm trying to be a certain way. that's just how i am... sometimes when i sit at school i feel so in tune with the other students, and at other times i feel like i'm a million years older with my developing wrinkles, my wedding ring, my melding of work clothes with a sweatshirt or tennis shoes to downplay the workness of them. do they notice? do they assume me different? they know james is 22... am i a lot older to them? most of them don't seem much younger than me... but i guess i do do a lot of "old people" stuff too. as much as i do young people stuff.

what people think of me:

people mistakenly think i am very self-confident. i find that out from people now - they thought i was so confident and strong my whole life - it's so strange how much of a mask i always wore, and not even on purpose most of the time.