Its All About the *Self* Love

What would happen if you stopped being who others wanted you to be?

What would your life be like?

Would it change greatly, a little, or not at all?

Would you work the same job, go to the same shops and restaurants, buy the same items, eat the same food, wear the same clothes?

Would your relationships change, and how? What would your family think? Would your friends still be your friends? Would you stay with your current spouse/lover/significant other?

All of us are, by varying degrees, guilty of 'going along to get along', not rocking the boat, in order to gain or retain approval. If you're someone who prefers that path, then that's fine. If you'd rather walk down the mountain backwards, then let's talk.

Katharine Hepburn, who truly was ahead of her time, once said, "As long as you always do what you please, at least one person will be happy." Isn't that a great attitude? Of course, lots of people will say, "Oh that's just selfish. Aren't we supposed to put others first?" Well, yeah, to a certain extent. I think, though, if you continuously put others' happiness before your own, eventually there's nothing left inside you. It ends up draining your emotional tanks until there's nothing left but fumes.

Over a year ago I read some comments from two anons, who were talking about this same subject: "Fuck me, I just want everyone to be happy." "Sometimes we have to do what makes US happy."

And that's true. Sometimes you have to put yourself first. Especially if having kept your desires buried for so long has made you feel unworthy of having them.

Don't spend your life being miserable. Spend your life being happy--by being you.

Break a Leg

When I was in high school and college, I was part of the choir and drama departments. I tried out for choir in--I think--11th grade. The choir teacher told me I had a good voice, but I needed to strengthen it, so she put me in the chorus instead. Well, come to find out, my schedule was screwed up, and I landed in both chorus and choir, back-to-back second and third periods.

Being in choir strengthened my voice ten times over, more so than chorus ever did. Chorus was kind of that elective that people take because it's easy, you can pass without making too much effort. But choir, that was different. The "hardcore" singers, the ones that were there to sing and perform because they wanted to, were the ones in choir.

During 12th grade, we put on what we named "A Broadway Review" (how original, hunh?). We performed as a group several times, and some of us performed solo too. I sang a song called "Nothing", from "A Chorus Line". I think that was my first time singing (out loud) in front of anybody. Strangely enough, it didn't scare me particularly. Maybe because I could only see the first two rows of the audience during both performances!

It was some of the most fun I had in my entire school career.

And drama! Oh, man, did I love drama class! A place where you could be someone else for a while. A place that encouraged you to emote with the best of them. A place that brought together all the different "groups" of students and taught us how to be one entity: actors, if you will.

We put on skits in class for each other and for the teacher; we'd go out in the hall and practice lines, drawing stares from the ones who weren't "drama kids"; we put on full-fledged plays for the school and community. We had a fucking blast.

I mostly played character roles because of my affinity for accents. Plus, my, um, weird sense of humor was starting to show itself. So I won a role where I played a Swedish maid--oh my cow, it was great fun! I could pretty much let loose and be as overdramatic as I wanted, the teacher loved it. (So did our audiences, thankfully, and bless them all the more for it.)

When I got to college, it was just natural for me to enroll in the drama department there. It turned out to be a combination of both drama and choir, my little heart was in Paradise. We put on a musical in my freshman year: "Fiddler On the Roof", which I now loathe and despise since we watched the bloody film about 2 dozen times in class and then performed five times in a row over a weekend. Lucky me (read that with sarcasm), I had two roles, one of the villagers, and, as I fondly called her, Dead Grandma Tzeitl (spelling? who knows). She appeared to Tevye, the main character, in a dream. Of course there had to be a darkened stage, dry ice, and glow-in-the-dark makeup for yours truly. And, my costume was a nightgown. And, I used an appropriately ethnic accent, if you catch my drift.

I had to make five costume and makeup changes during each of the five shows. The skin on my face did not enjoy this.

But the rest of me did! I miss those times, the feeling of belonging to something, somewhere. The rehearsals, the performances, the people I worked with, the audiences. The satisfaction of entertaining a few people for a few hours with nothing more than words and music.

Pretty heady stuff. Makes you feel...

...like you matter.

You're Gonna Get What's Coming

The title of this post, pilfered from Robert Palmer's song of the same name, doesn't suggest that I plan to take vengeance on anyone for anything. Far from it. It's a...shall we say, heads-up to the horrid anons that oozed into Mayo's last night.

In case you missed it, let me recap. Someone came on and started throwing insults around. Amyranth tried her best to get them to stop, it being the day after a loss in the Family. The anons promptly turned around and attacked her, saying she was using her "friend's grief for (your) own agenda".

Then it got worse.

Reading that putrid load of spew last night embarrassed me. You know why? Because those "people" who wrote it claim to be human beings. If that's what human beings really are, I don't want to be one. Anons have brought a lot of ugly stuff to Mayo's over the past year and a half, but I have to say, last night's shit-fest angered me more than anything else so far.

Here in the South, at least, we have something we call "respect for the dead". It doesn't take a lot to give it, and one is noticed much more quickly when he/she doesn't show it than when he/she does. This goes for everyone, even the people you would rather see the back of than deign to acknowledge in public. It's common courtesy, and respectful, to put away your anger and bad feelings for, say, a family member of the deceased, even if it's just for an hour. If you were raised properly, cruel anons, you'd know that. Obviously you've never lost a parent, a sibling, an aunt or uncle, a grandparent, or even a close friend. When you do, I sincerely hope no one gives you the treatment you gave Anima last night. If anyone does, though, remember what you said about someone who was grieving and in pain, and think about how it makes you feel.

Pretty fucking horrible?

Or do you have any feelings at all?

My money's on "no".

This post could be called "Karma".

You're gonna get what's coming
You been asking for it two days' running
You're gonna get what's coming
You're gonna get what's coming to you

I Will

Who knows how long I've loved you
You know I love you still
Will I wait a lonely lifetime
If you want me to, I will

For if I ever saw you
I didn't catch your name
But it never really mattered
I will always feel the same

Love you forever and forever
Love you with all my heart
Love you whenever we're together
Love you when we're apart

And when at last I find you
Your song will fill the air
Sing it loud so I can hear you
Make it easy to be near you
For the things you do endear you to me
Oh, you know I will
I will