I'm someone's hero

And that's pretty damn neat feeling.

I have a myspace thing because so many of my friends don't have phones, but DO have computers and cable internet (go figger...) and one of them just got her own myspace thingie. I was looking at it, and where it asks you to list your heroes, she's listed me for not being afraid to be myself.

Listen, when your myself, there's no hiding it. All the years that i wasn't myself, it was an ugly time. All the years i spent trying to live up to someone else's expectations, i failed, and called myself a failure for it. All the years people thought i was stuck up because i was too shy to talk to people were very lonely ones. I used to worry what people thought of me, and i'm sure a lot of the time their opinions weren't very nice. I once took people and their insults personally, and you spend a lot of time being angry when you take the world personally.

I'm not sure when it happened. Some time between the two rehab trips, i think. It happened in Oregon. It's almost like i woke up and went, "fuck people and their opinions" and started all over. Complete teardown and rebuild, you might say.

Someone doesn't like my playing? Ain't my problem.
Someone thinks i'm weird. They may be right, but it ain't my problem.
Someone has an issue with some piece of me. Ain't my problem.
Someone doesn't like it when i'm honest with them. See above.
Someone doesn't like my habits? They don't have to hang out with me.
Someone doesn't like me? Move along, find someone else to victimize, because i don't care.

People who get in the way are passed up. People who try to suck the energy from me, those psychic vampires that just drain you when you spend time with them, i usually figure that out pretty quick and kiss them goodbye. People who think less of me because i don't have the same opinions or politics as them can take a hike, too.

Hell yeah i am selfish about my time and my energy and my mental wellbeing and i don't handle people with kid gloves and sorry if you have a puny little ego and self-esteem issues, but get the fuck over yourself.

I'm a spaz and life is awesome and i'm glad to be alive to complain about it. I write horrible fiction, bad poetry, play three instruments like a 10-year-old on LSD, draw things that other people call art (for some reason), and i love it that i can do that.

I have a husband that loves me and i don't know what i'd do without him. I have friends that love me in spite of all my personality defects (maybe because of them?).

I'm here now, thank you very much Ram Dass.

And thanks Joan C for being my friend.