I Don’t Know Why

He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away. 

 ~Raymond Hull

I have a confession.

I haven’t exactly been honest with you.

I don’t know why exactly.

By nature I’m a hot head, a slightly spastic artistic type that speaks before I think it through. I love intensely with every part of my person, hold grudges even though I try hard not to and generally mistrust people as a whole. I have a fully formed opinion on just about every topic and tend to go to the mattresses to prove my point- eh, if you get behind something might as well give it 100%. I dance and do yoga while I write. I talk to myself … a lot. I love to cook but I have terrible anxiety until I know what I’m cooking for dinner, each and every morning.

I’ve tried my whole life to fit in. The truth is that I’m a square peg in a world full of circles and slowly I understand that my sharpish edges are some of the things I like most about myself.

Made to feel as though vanilla was the only acceptable flavor and pc was the only way to move ahead. When I hit publish on my first post, I made the decision that I would keep my somewhat truck driver mouth at bay, tone down my strange and maybe people will like me.

I’m sorry.

I don’t know why I just don’t share all of me.

I read other bloggers being so raw and candid. I envy that ability. I have a giant censorship net that filters me too much.

Artists are an odd breed. I want to be alone and surrounded at the same time. It’s always a push me pull you inside. I write more for just me than I do on this blog. I take an average of 7,000 photographs per month. Most are never shared with anyone. I could publish several beautiful coffee table books. Twice last night and once this morning I wished I could shake some dang sense into my teen.

I wrote 1,500 words + this morning about how disgusted I am that Octomom is back on welfare. Do you want to really read that? I didn’t think so. When you start to censor, you begin to redraw the lines of who we really are and how we allow ourselves to be perceived.

I’m a yoga teacher with a Scottish short fuse… the combo is probably why my blood pressure balances out to normal.  I didn’t intend to set out to create a foodie blog but slowly and naturally it morphed that direction. There isn’t much call for my opinions on major world topics sandwiched between mashed potatoes and cranberry pie. Now if you we looking for a roast recipe or what to do with fresh green beans, well then maybe you’d meander on over to me for a visit.

The f word is in regular rotation in my vocabulary. I actually see this as one of my largest flaws but dang it if it doesn’t just cover so much territory with one word. Funny but unless you are in my inner circle, you’d never know. Imagine everyone’s surprise to find out their good pal really is a one legged pirate in an ass kicking contest. Just doing my best… well, most days.  I pitched the dog my storyline for a story I’m working on. I ask her opinion on most things first. She doesn’t tell me I’m nuts but it does give me a chance to polish it a bit before running it past The Prince.  So does that mean I bribe my friend to listen with Milk Bones? Um, Yes. I feed you guys and you keep coming back so see how it works? 🙂

I really envy The Handsome Prince. He could be just as comfortable running a small country as he would be at a drum circle on Venice Beach. Dude is as cool as it gets. Witty and smart, I’ve watched him take people down verbally without raising his voice or fist and they didn’t even know they were just totally frosted by him. Then there is me, leaping in the face of hulky threatening man and ready to beat the ever loving snot outta the guy. I try to follow The Handsome Prince’s cues and I’ve become a much tamer shrew.

The Prince could care less what people think so he doesn’t mind chatting about a case of hemorrhoids or honestly admitting to something silly he’s done. He tells it so straight, even when the tale paints him in an unflattering light. He doesn’t mind being the cautionary tale or get a laugh. He’s not perfect either but he might be pretty close in my opinion. When doubt circles he’s my motivation, my back bone and number one fan. I wish I didn’t second guess every last thing and could be so wide open without a care. Knowing I’ve offended or hurt someone is the stuff that keeps me up at night so I censor and end up feeling slightly bottled or backed up sometimes because of those choices.

Some days I can’t work with music on, that weird artist thing and I’ll repeatedly listen to one of 4 movies in the background. All are Disney. I collect VHS movies. Stop laughing. I hike more in the winter because I’m terrified of snakes so I’ve convinced myself that they’re all sleeping so it’s safe.

I have not purchased a CD or any type of music in 8 years. I loathe the consumer driven rat race and haggle over .25 cent books. I pick up stray objects people have left out for trash, much to the horror of my family. Fix it, paint it and sell it… for fun. I know I need to come out from under my rock more but I like my weird life.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Those moments when the ground seems to morph from concrete into sand sneak up. Everything seems harder.  I fight the shift but eventually I have to admit that I’ve lost my balance and realign. I’ve learned more in the break down and build ups in my life than in any other times. These are the places that give me strength and remind me that anything is possible.

I don’t know why I censor so much of the crazy because it’s rather entertaining.

You may come for the food but I certainly appreciate the friendships shared.

I wish I was as good as the Leave it to Beaver Mom.

I do wear an apron all day… but that’s only because I wipe my hands on myself like a two year old and am always spilling something.

On second thought, pfft she’s got nothing on me. Raise 4 kids a house full of cats, a sweet dog, and run two small businesses, run a household, write a blog, work on 3 major writing projects with photographs, dole out healthy afterschool snacks, make dinner and not commit murder. Okay so maybe she has less dust and laundry but that’ll be there forever anyway.

Adjusting my nonexistent pearls & sanity,

Meg xoxo

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  1. What an amazing piece of self assessment. I can’t believe how much of me I see in this, I love the chances you take, how much you grow and change and most of all, the confidence I see emerging. You are wonderful. Don’t let you tell you otherwise. Ever.

    • Nikki on January 10, 2013 at 8:14 pm

    Of course I want to read about how Octomom is back on welfare! I love that you can express who you are, I am always too afraid to. You remind me of my sister. She is what we call ‘quirky’, and we all love her for it! be who you are, write like who you are, and you will be your happiest I know it 🙂

    • Roshni on January 11, 2013 at 1:09 pm

    So glad you wrote this!! I loved knowing more about you and you and I have more in common that you may think!!!

    • Maria on January 28, 2013 at 11:31 am

    Meg-Thanks for sharing! That was great stuff. I always feel like I’m too open, but in reality I think we all hold back some part of ourselves 🙂 Maria

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