Dear Friends,
Last week I wrote about being “bitten” and this week I feel that I have bit myself in the ass – and it’s only Tuesday. Oh, boy. Sometimes I feel like I have an inner girl in me that I let loose. This inner girl is not very cool. She has zero self control and thinks she says things tactfully when they’re actually everything but. My mother taught me to always speak my mind, but sometimes I feel like it’s more of a curse than a gift. So which is it, Mom?
It’s so hard to explain yourself sometimes in a world full of people who love uncertainties and who aren’t bothered by question marks in life. Half the time, I am bothered by the question mark, not the thing in front of it. It’s not that I need whatever is being questioned; rather, it’s more like I don’t appreciate the question mark. And if this makes me “undesirable” at times or look nuts, maybe I should protect myself. Maybe I’m being so freely honest because I know that when I’m honest, the best things reveal themselves. Writing a book really sobers up your outlook on life, albeit adding a false sense of self-importance. For six months, I cared what I had to say, and those words that I communicated on paper and to others, separated me from the outside world. And as most of the world does so well with creative people, from beginning and beyond, I was accepted. My work was accepted – my thoughts were accepted. But now what’s happening with it? Where is my next accepting hand and open ear? But in all honestly, I am tired of being afraid of the unknown. Too many times have I gone silent when I should have spoken up and I end up paying the consequences – not the other person involved – I did. And for as smart, funny, cute, adorable another person can be, they’re nothing if they don’t respect you. And that’s a gift my mom did give me that I appreciate. The only thing you can demand from another person is their respect. Respect means different things to different people. But a wise woman once told me as long as a person’s words match their actions, things will probably work out. But there’s a fine line between speaking your mind and biting yourself in the ass. So, friends, as my bites have gone away on my legs, don’t be surprised if I still complain about the emotional flare of bites that seem to be creeping up all over my body.
Sometimes being methodical sucks. Book 2: The Curse of Being A Writer.
Kisses,
Jessica
