not so silly putty

Last night I had a discussion with someone about my readability. This wasn’t the first time that someone has told me that when it comes to talking, I can do some damage. The only problem is that I somehow defy all logic and never say anything during my ramblings. I am the master of taking the simplest sentence in the world and caking on the foundation and false eyelashes until it’s so fancy that its original identity is unrecognizable. That sentence could have started as a boy and ended as a…well…a drag queen. The point is, even getting to my point has taken me 7 lines and an unnecessary reference to a group of men who embrace self tanner and panty hose. I always mean what I say, but I rarely actually say what I mean...excluding my dreaded Napoleon Complex under which I am plagued with asserting my assertiveness on anyone who’s done me wrong, perceived or otherwise. But when it comes to the real stuff…that ooey gooey part inside of me that laughs when you tickle it and cries when you abandon it…I keep that behind a brick wall.

The ooey gooey is just that…it’s soft and vulnerable and I can’t just put it out there on its own! I bring along my padding of words and jokes to ensure my ooey gooey’s safety. I like to call this technique self-preservation, but maybe a better term would be stupidity.

I’ve always thanked my parents for allowing me to be whomever I wanted. When I was 3 years old and watched Aladdin for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, my mother hand sewed my Princess Jasmine Halloween costume. When I was 12 and convinced I would someday be a scientist, my father drove me all over 2 states to find materials just so I could go on to win the 6^th grade Science Fair. And when I was 18 they let me move across the country on my own to continue creating myself ... Not as a scientist due to an acquired allergic reaction to math, but whatever else I wanted. I haven’t been giving myself the same opportunities or credit by over protecting my feelings. Sometimes ya gotta risk it to get the biscuit and let your ooey gooey do the talking, or people will never know you. Taking down my brick fortress may prove to be difficult … and maybe I’m still not exactly sure what I want to be when I grow up… but I sure as hell know that I don’t want to be a chemist OR a wall without windows. Princess Jasmine still sounds pretty good though…