I’ve ever been a fan of costumes.
I’m a big fan of role-play, but not costumes.

Maybe it’s because I get a feeling that people need to wear disguises to act in a way they don’t feel they can without a costume.

I just act how I want to act.
In whatever I’m wearing – or not.

The stress “perfect” causes me goes back a long way.

Even before I knew what the word meant, I remember the effort my parents made to present how “prefect” their family was. 

As the oldest child, oldest grandchild and only girl in a rough and tumble group of brothers and cousins, I was expected to be perfect - polite, smart, accomplished, well groomed and the moral compass for a generation of my extended family.

That’s a lot. And I set the bar high.

However, growing up, my life wasn’t perfect. Divorce and other dysfunction paired with financial hardships prepared me well for many aspects of adulthood. And throughout, I made the effort to be, or at least appear, as perfect as I could. And the older I got, the better I became at playing the part.

Those closest to me knew about the struggles, weaknesses and failures – and they loved me anyway. One incident in particular will always stand out to me… after college, when we were all newly married, I was complaining about something to do with the renovation of the house we had bought, when a friend’s sister told me (loudly – at a party) that I didn’t have anything to complain about because my life was “perfect” and I didn’t even know what I had. I was shocked. Had no idea what to say to that (and no A-Game cuz alcohol.) My friend jumped to my defense against her sister. She pointed out that my life had not been perfect. That I had gone through some pretty tough times and was one of the hardest workers she had ever known – that I had earned everything I had.

It wasn’t until then that I realized that maybe I had done too good a job of appearing perfect. There were people who thought I had been handed everything in my life and that everything really was, perfect.

So, I started to rein it in a little.

And as my own imperfect marriage started crumbling, I reverted to what I know best – putting on the show. My job, my house, my children and my marriage looked perfect.

So, when I told my family and friends that we were divorcing, they were stunned. Almost no one had any idea we were having trouble.

The bar had been set high – by me. And the fall was a long way down.

Things were not perfect for a while and I didn’t have the strength to try to convince people it was. I focused on my kids and establishing my new reality. I dropped out of sight for a while. And I reemerged better than I had been in a long time – but not perfect.

The word still makes me bristle. My ears perk up and I pay close attention to who says it and in what context, especially where my children are concerned. Kids today have pressures I never would have dreamed of when I was young. The last thing I want them to worry about it trying to be perfect.

A friend wished me Happy Birthday this week via Facebook. She said, “Happy, Happy Birthday! Hope you have a great year filled with good clients, fun times with your perfect kids and peace for yourself.” I know she meant well, but she said “perfect kids” and reading it took my breath away.

You're only a freak if you let people convince you you are.

It's probable that everyone knows a secret that could absolutely ruin someone else's life.

Think about the manipulative games, clandestine deal-making and in some cases, pathetic grovelling, going on all around us in emails, via text and in dark office corridors to keep the world going.

Then about what happens between 2 people that would prompt the one with the power to spill the beans. Yikes!

I know several people's secrets of this magnatude. And I know at least a dozen people who know things about me that would cause some serious shit. (But nothing I couldn't recover from.)

So, tell me...

I have gotten used to spilling my guts on this blog.
I've told you things I haven't told anyone else.

I've said out loud what many people are thinking, but would never utter.

But I still have secrets...

When you think about it, the each of the words you chose matters, but how you string them together – and the tone you say them with matter more.  

And timing… timing is very important as well.

There is a certain attraction to those that let me tell them what to do. 
 

As much for the ‘why’ as the ‘what.’

I often wonder about people and their priorities and their role within our society and the global community.

I know that’s a very broad, sweeping statement, but to be more specific, this is what I was thinking about while watching The Voice earlier this week:

Some people give up everything - an education, a house, having a family - for what they are passionate about.

While others give up what they are passionate about to accomplish what they feel is expected of them such as getting a degree, buying a house and having kids.

I don’t think either group is more right than the other. In fact, I think both groups are sadly missing a big part of what makes life worth living.

Just my 2 cents.

I was just explaining, to a nameless stranger, my theories on life and love and the 3 kinds of boys every woman needs in their life to be successful.  (If you don't know these things about me by now, either you are not a true NB fan or you're new so, you can read the historical posts on this site.)

Anyway... he was stunned by my honestly and grasp on reality and even completed that I really had my "act together." And he was obviously enamoured - who isn't, really?

And he said something that I found entertaining. He said "You're speaking my language - like we live on the same planet - and that has never ever happened before."

I know it hasn't, bro.
Cuz nice girls don't say out loud what most people are thinking. Cuz their skerd.

But Nat Blake does.
 
She has an anxiety disorder that's triggered by time, and a HUGE problem with authority. So yeah, she's in a rush to get a shit-ton of things accomlished in a very short period. Are you in or are you out?

tell me...