So I figure it's about time I strike some chords that I haven't talked about yet. I know, it's only my freaggin' tenth blog, but whatevs. I am officially giving myself room to stretch my wings here. I'm gunna try to cover at least one significant topic a week, and I've already done one (A Deeper Look Into Who Be M.F.E.) so you can just consider this a bonus because I love you like that.(; So what's up? Well, it's about boys. (Learn to expect things like this: I'm a teenager!) I'm not that big on a long intro to things...so I'm gunna keep this one rolling. When a guy starts taking interest in me, there can be a plethora of feelings and thoughts jumbling around inside my head. Why does he hang around me? Does he like me? Am I likable? Is he single? Is he joking, or is he serious? Was that a hint? Is he hitting on me? Am I girlfriend material? Does he want me to be his girlfriend? Is he gunna ask me out? Am I attractive enough to ask out?....the list goes ON, trust me. But my all-time favourite rant is this: "Am I over reacting?". I like this question because the little voice in my head never fails to bring it up, and it almost always puts me in check. If I'm talking to a guy that I find attractive and he seems interested in the conversation, that same little voice jumps in before I can begin to speculate: "He's not that into you. He's just making polite convo, so don't jump to conclusions...". And to an extent, that voice is my friend. It helps me calm down when I find myself in new guy situations and keeps my expectations low, so if it turns out that the voice was right, I'm not surprised. But that's the brim. Besides that, that voice is the devil. It constantly nags me about how I'm just not good enough for any guy, lowering my self esteem gradually. It is a self-protecting device that harms me. And mastering the art of controlling that voice is vital to preservation of self. So I began to try to ignore it. Of course, it got louder, but after much practice and many inspirational YouTube videos, I believe I have uncovered a better deal of my other voice: self-confidence. I'm here, at a cross roads of immaturity and higher thinking, and so I try my hardest to get to the latter. I tell myself, I am good enough. I say, "Girl, you are who you are, and that's not gunna change, so don't wear yourself out tryin' ". I give myself pep talks more often instead of letting that selfish little voice dominate my feelings. I look in the mirror and make myself find something I like, every day. I find new things sometimes, and sometimes I pick the same things: my eyes and the way they curve when I smile, my dimples, the wild nature of my independent hair...and I also find out what I don't like, but that list gets shorter every time. I make sure to keep the negatives at a minimum, and for the things I'm not happy with, I just shrug and say oh well, "change it or leave it be: cause you sure nuff can't do half of either". Little things like painting my nails or taking an extra long, warm shower can work miracles. The best therapy for me though is just speaking my mind, and not allowing that little voice to have a say. It's the sweetest victory when I get those moments of clarity and have a strange courage to just sit back, relax, and do "me". And it's all good and gravy. I realize that I am who I am, and if another person won't accept that, it's okay. It doesn't matter. Sooner or later I will attract people who DO like the person I am by nature...all I have to do is show them who I am by nature. And I'll get used to doing that more everyday, with practice. With the mirror, and positive thinking, and reassurance. I will begin to grow into something new and more beautiful than before. And I will be smacked into a new world by something amazing: self-love. That's the bar. That's where I wanna be. Because once I get to the point where I can maintain that "moment of clarity" permanently, I'll have arrived. And it's obvious when some one's arrived: everyone in the class turns their head to look at the person who's coming through the door 30 minutes past the start of class. And that's me, I'm late. But at least I'm approaching that door. And when I open it, every one's eyes will be hot-glued on me, "me" me. Even the guy that's outta my league, cause now he's so not. I'm outta his.
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