I've spent the last 47 years of my life - all of it - thinking that I had to get people to like me. This has been the source of great suffering.... Editing myself to be 'better', to fit better, to be more palatable to those around me - especially to people who seem to not enjoy my company at all. Good grief. I censor myself far too often.
I have recently been enlightened. I like me. I do. I like having fun. I like being weird, it's far more fun than blending in. I like how I have fun. I like being creative. I like making art. I like how I make art. I'm not always nice but I like it when I am. I'm a good person and I believe in God and Magic and higher Connection. But I have a cynic inside me. I always have. A bitter little elvin creature who thumbs his nose at the masses and the blind faith they have in the System. I enjoy him. He allows me to evaluate what's going on and more recently to trust myself and my own values and insights. And because of Captain Cusspants, the ever judging angel of my innards, I know I'm right most of the time... ;)
When I was a teen, oh boy was I cynical. I recently took in an interview with the godfather of Goth himself, Robert Smith, upon The Cure's entry into the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame. I adored him in my youth - and still do (how can you not love a man in lipstick) and I found myself falling all over again for his complete and utter disdain for most worldly aspirations. He was responding to his decline to accept an award from The Queen, " Why should she get to give me an award - I'm better than her, I've done more than her" (loosely quoted). As he nears 60 years of age, matted hair and lipstick as smeared as ever, he swears up a storm and flips off the matriarchy. *sigh* What's not to love?
A week later I disappeared myself deftly into the narrow aisles of a local thrift. I stumbled upon Picasso's Blue Nude. This adorned my bedroom walls for years until it finally turned to dust. I don't mention it because of my love of Picasso - I find him a misogynistic pig, I mention it for the time period in which it existed. My cynical, punkish, defiant - even arrogant at times - youth. Quite miserable really, but so gloriously angsty!
Well, I'm calling on those unsavoury sensibilities once again. Taking back the night, getting back my mojo, reclaiming my life! I love who I am and I will shout it from the rooftops! I'm a weirdo! I'm a witch! I'm an artist! I'm a feminist! I'm a great mom and a great woman and an honest person who believes in light and love and good over evil, and I don't care who cares to challenge me. I refuse to get you to like me, and I don't care to know if you don't. We've reached a point in time where we're being pressured to categorize and label everything into uniform oblivion. That's wrong. We must revel in our uniqueness and long for diversity in outlooks and experiences. Conformity is for chumps and I'm done censoring myself to fit.
I'm not saying that from now on I'll be riding around on my broomstick - a witch with a capital B... I'm saying that I've spent far too long not believing in myself and living a great life. A life I don't have to justify to anyone. This life was a gift to me and I feel so lucky. I love it, it's a really cool, interesting life! And now I'm going to enjoy it, and that cynical little elf inside had a great deal to do with my emancipation. The longer you live, I believe that things come back around to you. I now revel in my youthful discernment and know that I wasn't too far off.
F*ck it, I'm awesome, and sometimes downright genius...*
*I don't mean that to be callous or arrogant, I mean that in that I'm so far from perfect, it's frightening but I believe in my convictions and I believe in what I do, who I am and what I create, and in THAT, I can find genius, even if just for myself. That's a gift. <3