Something You Might Not Know...

July 03, 2012

I’ve got blog envy. 

The more I read about the things that inspire me and make me freak out with delight and creativity... the more I feel so insignificant and more than a little ill equipped.  I haven’t got photoshop, or any of those fancy pretty-ful programs.  I don’t have tons of cash to shop for new outfits.  Since I stopped working,  my ‘extras’ budget is basically zero.

It may sound like I’m complaining, but I’m really not.  I’m merely ineffectively trying to segway into something that a whole bunch of smart, creative people everywhere have been talking about.

Its floated around the blogging world as Things I’m Afriad To Tell You.

Its people who lead sparkly, fashionable, tasty, lives -perfectly lit in just the right amount of sarcasm and wit- talking about reality; the underbelly of the blogger/social media beast. Its about bursting the bubble that is everyone’s facebook profile picture, status update, and instagram feed.

Started here.  With this really cool woman called Jess.  Her post was relatively benign but it opened a discussion which led to this post. She opens up about stuff that doesn’t normally make it onto the internet via successful blogger.  (Also, check out to her response photo when people gushed nonstop about her ‘amazing abs’ ...she’s so rad)

Then, Creature Comforts picked it up and made it a challenge.  For people to devote themselves to being real for a few minutes.  To post an un-attractive ‘snapshot’ of their lives... one that doesn’t involve fabulosity or perfection.

I doubt there is anyone out there who thinks that I’ve got a perfect life, but in case you are just that disillusioned:

I have no degree to back my name although I’ve attempted three.  I’m pretty insecure about that.  While everyone else was applying themselves to university I was... flying back and forth to South Africa to visit my boyfriend.  Who is now my husband.  So I guess I’ve added something to my name for those three years of hard work ;)
Dressed in the worst uniform ever, I waitressed my way back and forth to said boyfriend turned husband.  No glamour, just a lot of tossing food scraps and polishing forks.
I change my mind almost daily about what I ‘want to be’.  I’m nearly 22.  Tragic?
My wedding hair styling business (which I really love) is finally a reality, but unfortunately, starting up is the hardest part.  Business she’s not booming.  Poop.
No matter what it is that I think I’m good at/might want to pursue, I find ten other people who are much better at it than me.  And they’re prettier than me, and they live in better cities, and they have better hair.

I’m intimidated by creative people because I feel really insecure about my abilities, even though I love whatever I create... whether its thrifted, refashioned clothing, a new makeup technique (new to my look anyway), hairstyle, vacation... you get the picture.  I’m intimidated because there is some little destructive parasite in my brain that eats happy things and poops sad things.  Its a philosophical tapeworm, of sorts.

I'm scared to talk about that stuff but just typing it now makes me feel a tad bit more brave.

Fortunately, I can’t just write all doom and gloom and sad pity pity.  That would be ridiculous.  Maybe I feel intimidated by other people’s ‘perfect’ lives and maybe these really selfish, comparing thoughts do occupy my mind more often than I would like to admit... but deep down, after all that, I know the truth.

I’m one of the lucky ones.  Not by comparison.  Simply by definition.
I happen to be married to a selfless, understanding, supportive hot piece of....(too far?  yeah. too far)  

The point is that he was the one who suggested I ditch the 8-4 and fight for my true passion.   He’s made sacrifices like not being able to buy stuff (skateboard, ipad, new threads) whenever he wants and putting up with my ‘home made lunches’ instead of boy friendly burgers from the cafe at work.

Even though sometimes its not fun, and we eat pancakes with cheese for dinner because I suck that much at planning meals and grocery shopping, we just keep on keeping on (I just threw up a little in my mouth typing that... but it sort of works here so... sorry?)
Even though, even though, even though...[insert every possible hangup and setback] life is good.  Its good because its bad sometimes (a LOT) and I survive.  We all survive.

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