It's Like Puberty... Only not.

It's interesting the way we all interpret what we see, what we read, what we hear so differently. There was a person at work who I swear to God, was hearing a completely different language when ever I spoke to her. I could tell her on a sunny day that the sky was blue and I liked her skirt, and she would hear that I was panicking yelling, "It's RAINING! It's RAINING!". And that her skirt was the most hideous in all the land. For the life of me, I couldn't understand. Still can't. Thank God she doesn't work there anymore. It's draining. Why is it that we see, read and hear so differently? It can't always be about tone and delivery, can it? I mean, people are quick to blame the person delivering, but isn't it possible that someone is simply hearing/reading/seeing something out of context depending on their own current mood and experience?

Since I've started writing this blog I'm gaining more readers. Which is so, so cool. But with that comes more analysis/interpretation. Now, I understand that a lot of my entries are obviously not written by Pollyanna Sunshine. I mean, it is about the beach and all, and the beach is a happy place. But it's written by a 44-year-old single woman who's having a mid-life crisis for crying out loud. I'm figuring my shit out. It's not going to be a ray of sunshine all the time. I'm like Grumpy Cat. Only not as furry. And I'm human.

The other day I had an old high school friend tell me how much he enjoys reading my entries (thank you for that, by the way) but that he wondered if I was ok. I was a little surprised by that. My first reaction was "Um, of course I'm ok". But I realized it's because he really doesn't know me as an adult. And reading some of these entries without knowing me, might come off as depressed or "not ok". I am ok. Really. 

When I think of all this stuff in the middle of the night, like now for example (it's 4:16 am) I'm not exactly listening to show tunes and smiling to myself. Because that would just be weird. Not the show tunes part, because who doesn't like a show tune, but the smiling part. I don't usually sit around smiling to myself in the middle of the night. I cannot stress enough, daily, as in every DAY, that just because I'm not smiling, doesn't mean I'm not happy. It means I'm thoughtful. Or reflective. Or just. Not. Smiling. Same goes for my writing. I'm thinking and reflecting and my fingers are delivering the news, and if they could smile while pounding away at the keys perhaps they would. What would that look like anyway? HI! how are you? I am doing GREAT! SUCH a lovely night out there! The problem with that is if you do know me, and I started using exclamation points and large letters and even saying smiley things, it might come across as sarcastic and insincere. It's just not who I am. Am I capable of lovely, loving, soft, caring and heart-felt, happy writing? Absolutely. Of course. And I do when I'm writing TO someone or when I feel like gushing. But I don't do it often publicly anymore and I'll tell you why. It's private to me. And showing that kind of deeper emotion is personal. It's really intimate in my opinion. More intimate than talking about a creative block or my introversion. When I was younger I was teased for showing too much emotion. Dramatic, I was called even. Ridiculed by my peers for displaying such happiness and sadness and everything in-between. Kinda sucked. I do show those things amidst people I'm close to or am comfortable with. But I also find myself settling into a kind of stoicism as I continue to age, and when I write. And that might be what's coming through. I dunno.  I'm a friggin' 44-year old single woman who's having a mid-life crisis. I can't be held accountable for some of the things I do. haha

Anyway, I just wanted to take a moment to assure the masses that I'm just fine. We'll all go through it eventually, if we haven't already, the mid-life thing. Perhaps you won't even recognize it (or didn't) perhaps it won't be as painful (or it was). Or perhaps reading my crap will change the way you'll go through yours when it happens, (or make you remember and embrace yours when it did)? I want you to know it is totally ok to laugh at my awkward and clumsy moments. I mean, this whole stage I'm going through is the adult version of puberty. It's a growth spurt. One. Big. Long. Tantrum. I don't fit in my own skin and am clumsy in this new shell I'm in. And I still think like a 16-, 22- and 35-year-old respectively, depending on the situation I'm in. Some of what I say should be respected and taken seriously. But, most of it should really be taken lightly as it's just the musings of a 44-year-old kid at the beach, metamorphosing into God knows what.

It's all good. I promise.