Painted smiles

I've always tried to be an authentic person, to be myself on my own terms. I've never been entirely successful, though, and I've never been able to figure out why. What it ultimately comes down to is what my fundamental nature is and what I want it to be. All baggage aside, I can be boiled down to my must fundamental essence, namely matter in a particular place at a particular time. I realized relatively recently that I should become the person I want to be. Simple enough. Decide who I want to be and work toward attaining that goal.

But I don't know, really, what I want to be. In some ways I do, of course. I want to be a good person. I want to be a happy person. Beyond that, though, I can't really say.

What I am right now is a blank slate, a sheet of paper waiting for a pencil to be applied. But what to draw?

I want to personify a transient moment. I want to be a changing constant in a hectic universe. I want to be me, here, now at all times without dwelling in the past or worrying about the future. I want to be able to redefine myself at any given instant.

But I can't. Sure, in the existential, radically free sense, I can, but in reality, I can't. I have too many commitments I'm unwilling to sacrifice and waaay too many mental barriers in my way. So, I'm just a working stiff doing my 40 hours and living vicariously through Time Lords, Batmen, Jedi Knights, and 12 oz. Mice.

Joy is fleeting. We cling to it for dear life in hopes that it will provide the elusive key to eternal happiness.

But it won't.

It never will.

I'm currently in love with a song by Rilo Kiley called A Better Son/Daughter. It goes like this:

Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can't move
Awake but cannot open my eyes
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs
I know I can't breathe
And hope someone will save me this time
And your mother's still calling you insane and high
Swearing it's different this time
And you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her
And that god never blessed her insides
Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things
And crawl back into bed to dream of a time
When your heart was open wide and you love things just because
Like the sick and dying

And sometimes when you're on
You're really fucking on
And your friends they sing along
And they love you
But the lows are so extreme
That the good seems fucking cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absence
But you'll fight and you'll make it through
You'll fake it if you have to
And you'll show up for work with a smile
And you'll be better
You'll be smarter
More grown up and a better daughter or son
And a real good friend
And you'll be awake
You'll be alert
You'll be positive though it hurts
And you'll laugh and embrace all of your friends
And you'll be a real good listener
You'll be honest
You'll be brave
You'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful
You'll be happy

Your ship may be coming in
You're weak but not giving in
To the cries and the wails of the valley below
Your ship may be coming in
You're weak but not giving in
And you'll fight it you'll go out fighting all of them

- Niggardly Gelatinous Lesbian