You know, your great grandpa Ibrahiem, he was a bandit… He was illiterate, but had a lot of money, so he hired someone to read him the paper every day.
I think our primary difference is that when I was growing up I always tried to fit in. No, no, I mean your weirdness is refreshing. Ooh, the other day I saw a leopard print snuggie. Would you want it as a xmas present? Or, I could get you a book about fitting in
OM to ME, 10/2010, Part of what felt like weirdly normal “girl talk”, captured, in the dark, in a shared room at Asilomar, CA.
LIE I MAY HAVE RECENTLY TOLD:
"I fit in everywhere."
"I fit in (equally poorly) everywhere.
(So relatively, it’s all the same.)”
CLOSER TO THE TRUTH:
"I feel like a Giant Panda most of the time."
Honesty is sustainable, but like most sustainable things, getting to the point where it just organically happens takes either a lot of hard work to dump bad habits and comfortable tendencies, OR having not tripped down the rabbit hole of bad habits to begin with. Lies are like Chicken McNuggets: I know they shouldn’t be there, but every so often I find myself with a mouth full of them. They’re easy. Sometimes tasty. But despite my crazy endurance (lest we forget: “the impromptu marathon: an irrational response to an impending birthday—November 2010”) surely these things in my mouth are not healthy in the long term.
(OM is my best friend here and, on paper, we spend 40 lucky hours a week within a very small space. She ended up giving me a ride to/from the airport for xmas, which saved me crazy parking fees.)