Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Essay for my Therapist

I’m really sorry for the long delay, I should’ve posted something sooner, but I was lacking some inspiration. Actually, I still do, but I realized I needed to describe myself for something small and stupid as my Orkut profile.

That got me thinking why the hell I can’t describe myself (well, maybe except when my self-esteem is unnaturally high or when I’m drunk, which is basically the same shit). So, I’m doing this for an exercise, never recommended by my therapist, but what the heck does she know? It’s time I try to describe my own profile as my own person and stop using poems and pictures and someone else’s opinion to do it for me.

Ok, I’ll stop giving excuses and explanations and actually get to the real thing.

I could start saying what I’m not and narrow it down to the few possibilities left and make it my own personality, but this time I think it’s better guess what I am than what I’m not. So here’s the first thing I know about myself: I am practical. As a practical person I hate it when I do something wrong or when someone assumes that I lack capacity of doing something, whatever it is.

Being practical makes me pose as someone who’s constantly accepting challenges, mostly brainy ones in which I can find a simple answer in a book somewhere. Lately I been taking some challenges in the emotional field and it proved to be a defying one. First of all I had to accept the fact that I’m not the ugly duck as I liked (safely thought) to be. So yeah, as a proud Barbie-hidden-between-books kind of girl I took a makeover and overcame one more challenge.

I’ve been thinking why I’ve taken so long to do that. The answer just came to me: I don’t accept failures! It would have busted my ego if even after a makeover I found out I were still ugly, or worse, average. I don’t accept being average so if I was going to come out of my shell I had to make sure I had the looks that could melt hearts. I’m not sure that one works, but hey, I got accepted in the modeling business so that must count for something.

So yeah, I pretty much conducted my life so far afraid of failures, trying to control everything around me and always standing on the safe ground to keep me from falling hard on my butt. Unless, of course, the failure is part of the process of winning. How? Let me give you an example. I find a cute guy sitting in a bar and I have this big bruise in my leg. He asks and I tell him I ridiculously fell down the stairs (a failure factor) so I can just pout my lips girly and get a kiss out of compassion.

I know people see me as clever, maybe I am gifted here and there, but unless you count my every-second strategy to win whatever argument I’m having or symbolic female power standing out in a crowd, I don’t think I’m clever in anything except making people think highly of me. Maybe I’m good with big smart words and with my sidewalk anthropologies (also know as ‘people watching’).

I do admit I am modest when I conquer something really big. I do show off over small things, but when it’s a big thing, I’m not sure when sincerity ends and modesty starts.

I’m easy to talk to and so, consequently, I’m easy to make friends, but I am afraid of failure so I don’t approach people, they usually come to me first. I never EVER make the first move. People trust me easily, but it takes a lot of time for me to trust people in return. When I start trusting someone I become a very loyal friend, but I always keep an eye open. So, if you become my friend I’ll never betray you… unless you do something to upset me.

This leads to my final quality – and I call this a quality because I ENJOY it – I am revengeful and very selfish. Oh how much I enjoy planning long and torturous revenges on my traitors. And my selfishness is based on the fact that since I don’t like failure and I prefer to stand in a safe solid ground I don’t share feelings, emotions and even material things that are unstable. Why should I let my best friend borrow my CDs when I have no idea if he’s going to take a good care of it? In my eyesight my CDs are perfectly safe, inside their boxes. Why should I tell someone my secrets when he’s someone else entirely and I have no control over what he’s going to do with that piece of information?

That sort of makes me kind of a loner by choice most of the times. But who doesn’t like to stay home listing to their favorite music, bathing in bubbles and smothering their skin with some floral fragrance? Sometimes, choosing to be a loner just makes my day.

So, my simple and stupid conclusion is that I am a practical person who is afraid of failures. The rest is just a consequence. For now I’m trying to go easy on the failure part. I’m trying to teach myself to sit in an armchair, cross my arms and say ‘ well, shit happens.’