In the words of Loco, Milo and Archer, I have just been shot dead, burnt alive, and scared half to death. In that order. And it’s only Thursday!

A friend whose opinion I value, and who knows me pretty well, said something to me today. He says that maybe some people find me two-faced. They feel like I try too hard to be liked. They think I project an image that is popular, but that eventually, the real me peeks out, leaving people disappointed.

Le sigh.

Perhaps this is why people who start out thinking I am intelligent, mature and mysterious end up comparing me to unseasoned breakfast. Or why people who think I am liberated, strong, a regular Mustang, end up thinking I am an illegitimate…

Le double sigh.

With the amount of TMI on this url, I don’t see how people can possibly get the wrong idea about me. I’m worse in person and on chat. I am frightfully honest in all things. It’s unhealthy!

I have such an obsession with being ‘real’ and being ‘true to myself’ that anyone thinking I am not hurts pretty bad. Worse still is the idea that maybe I’m not real at all, that maybe I’m even lying to myself!

I think people will draw their own conclusions no matter what I do. They will think I am fabulous, or mean, or cold, or bitchy, or prudish, or loose – the blind men and the elephant – all partly right, yet all partly wrong.

And they will share their opinions, just like I do.

Another friend said it doesn’t matter what people think of you, only what you think of yourself. Right now, that isn’t a whole lot 🙁

So much for being happy. Le big sigh.

The truth hurts, but usually, I am on the other side of the hurting. Usually, I am the one being brutally honest and watching people crumble at the result. I am not angry, I am grateful to my friend for sharing the truth.

But damn, it stings!

Off to meditate my crown now. Maybe I can open it without chasing Jack and Jill down a hill or getting wet.

♫ Linkin park ♫ From the inside ♫

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Kinda speaks for itself, doesn’t it?

A dear friend said something to me a few days ago. He said my naïvete must be a front, because I am too smart to be that dumb.

Well, he didn’t use those words exactly, and don’t worry hun, I didn’t take offense. But you know me, any little thing I see or hear gets churned through my mind, bounced around, analysed, echoed, overthinked [doesn’t that just sound so much better than ‘overthought’?]  and massacred until there’s nothing left but beetlejuice [beetlejuice beetlejuice ** cue carry-me-banana song**]

Sorry, just had to throw that in there *cheeky grin*

♫ Gnarls Barkely ♫ Crazy ♫

I made a similar comment to another friend, though that time, I wasn’t referring to myself. I was talking about someone I know, and wondering how he can be so smart about some things yet so dense about others. Hehehe looks like kharma has come for payback. Which reminds me of my niece dissing me once ‘Auntie, you’re so dim mpaka you’re dark.’ Ouch!

And did you know that in Dar, the equivalent of mchongoano is ‘tangazo tangazo’? As in ‘tangazo tangazo, kuna mmoja hapa, kichwa chake gololi’  Tsk tsk.

Back to the point. My friend responded that we’re all like that really. We all have one area where we’re gurus and another area where we’re pre-schoolers, Ask any Doctor or PhD professor.

Thing is, I know a lot of stuff in theory. It’s my intuitive side, my reasonable side. But I haven’t actually practised half the stuff I harp on about. This is especially true when it comes to social pretense, corporate culture … and boys. So I’m still at the place where I believe that if I just speak my mind, open my heart, and always tell the truth, especially to the boss, or on the first date, then the sun will shine again.

Probably because I’ve never actually dated boys before. Yeah, I know, that one of Baba Princess wasn’t exactly dating, it was default *cheeky grin*.

I’ve never had the ‘waiting for the call’ experience, or the ‘wondering if I should ask him in for a nightcap’ moment or the ‘drawing maps and hovering with my hand on the doorknob-thingie wondering whether he will kiss me’.

I’ve read about all those, and giggled about it, and said ‘if he likes you, he will call you, duh!’ But before now, I have never been the girl who sits with my friends analysing the conversation and walking around with my phone just in case he calls, panicking if the battery runs low or if the boss asks me to switch off the phone during a meeting.

So, things that are obvious to most people, things that they picked up in high school, things like that are rocket science to me. I am just now learning that girls are actually meant to play  hard-to-get. But not too hard, or else he’ll give up and walk away. You’re supposed to be all rare and mysterious. Give too much information too soon and you become, well, boring.

I am learning that girls are not supposed to consistently look a boy in the eye, because … well, lots of different reasons really. I am learning that girls are supposed to let the guy pay for things if he wants to, because if you insist on paying all the time, he will think you’re a dume-jike … or worse, a feminist!

I am learning that you are supposed to be the gazelle and run way, even if you really want to be caught, and that at the exact right moment, you are supposed to inconspicuously slow down and let him catch you, just like in chobo-na-ua-kamata-dame.

It’s like the child in the story who smiles at lightning because God is taking her picture. It’s cute in a kid, but in an adult, it inspires snide remarks and ngotos. Throw in my trait of  being overly emotional, my sense of drama, and my  tendency to throw tantrums, and things don’t turn out so good.

The thing with me  is that my blonde areas are rather … disadvantageous. I know of people, girls mostly, who are dumb as a rock when it comes to schoolwork, but boy, can they run the rat race! Doesn’t matter how they do it, they know how to get their way, And it doesn’t matter to them that they’re still, you know, rats. I sometimes think world smarts are worth so much more than book-smarts.

I’m not ashamed of the way I am, not really. I like the child that I am. It’s just that I am finally starting to recognise it as a weakness, and starting to do something about it. I’m starting to see that to survive in the big bad world, I have to learn some big bad tricks.  I am learning how to play the game. Slowly and painfully yes, but I am learning. And that makes me really really sad.

I suppose on the upside, I am evolving into a higher … thing. One that can function better in the real world. But I have to say, my fantasy world is so much more fun, and I’m not entirely sure I want to leave it 🙁

I had a conversation yesterday, a sort of introduction to a new friend. I’ve had this conversation a few times before, but never like this. This time I was conscious, wary, weighing my words. Which is the ‘right’ thing to do, the ‘smart’ thing to do. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was conning my new friend, not giving him the full CB experience. I felt like I wasn’t being true to myself, I wasn’t being me. For the first time in my life, I put in a conscious mask.

And it sucked raw eggs.

I don’t know why that bothers me – I’m only doing what everyone else does.

But then again, I’m not everyone else.

The reason I wore that mask is that I don’t want my new friend to react the way everyone else reacts. I want him to see me as me, and to like me for me. Which is lame I guess, but there you are.

Of course, how my new friend reacts is not really my call, now is it.

And I don’t want to do all those things. I don’t want to wear this mask.

I am glad that I have K2, the one special boy in my life who takes me as I am, does not think I am completely loopy [partly yes, but not completely], and who thinks that ‘boys in my part of the world must be crazy to be frightened by my honesty’. Yay!

I’d like to have a few more friends who are like my K2, even just half of him really, or a quarter, coz I know he’s one of a kind. K7 comes close though *wink*

I do have some hope. Just as I am stepping out into this bold new … eh … world, I see traces of my Cb-niverse that say what the heck, you don’t have to adapt. Or conform. What I really need to do is find a few people that like it in my universe, some pseudo-K2’s and mini-CBs. Then we can go around in our own little bubble.

I can  interact with the world at world level, but interact with my world at my-world level.

Before, I tried to drag the world into my world, kicking and screaming. Which of course did a lot of damage to my interior decor. Especially the windows.

But now I see that I can have it both ways. I can chill out on the balcony, vet my neighbours, figure out which of them would like it inside, and invite them in. I’ve got a few candidates already **cough*cough*K7*cough*K13*cheeky grin**

The rest can stay in the garden smelling the butterflies and playing with the flowers.

It would involve masking, but only for a little while, and when the mask gets tiresome, I just pop indoors, grab a good book,  and dive into a bubblebath. Beats adjusting my nature to suit the world.

Also, you know how in those old stories there’s always some old lady in a rocking chair, sitting on the verandah and knitting a sweater? I could do that.

Not the knitting, I don’t knit very well. But I could stitch myself a nice world-proof dungaree to wear when I go out into the world. One that has an urban camouflage feature woven into it. And  I can leave it at the door when I get home, you know, just hang it on a pretty little coat rack.

I think I’ll make it burgundy.

♫ Fix you ♫  Coldplay ♫

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I consider myself a loner. I do my own thing and rarely follow the crowd. Except during Princess’ five-month check -up when I realised that all the other kids had shaved off their baby hair, and figured maybe it’s a health thing, so I promptly got a pair of scissors and snipped off the pretty curly locks. Le sigh. It grew back though, less curly, and more red than black, but still pretty.

Anyway, point is, I’m lucky in the sense that I don’t feel the need to ‘fit in’, so I’m pretty safe from peer pressure, negative or otherwise. Granted I occasionally get an attack of the Joneses, where I look at what my friends have achieved, and begin to question why I haven’t done XYZ, but that’s once-once … mara moja-moja tu.

I do have a weaknesses that covers that, so to speak. Sort of like my chakra.

What.

A few days a go I had no idea what chakra was, except that it involved a skeleton and coloured balls. But I now know that my sacral chakra is healthy, my navel chakra is under-used, and that as a result my throat chakra has overcompensated. In other words, I’m cold and I talk too much, but my sex drive is just right.

What.

Also, my third-eye and root chakra readings suggest I spend too much time inside my own head, and that I over-fantasize and am prone to hallucinations, and possibly paranoia. Interesting.

My heart and crown chakras are almost fine, so I am allegedly semi-friendly and partly-wise, but very in-assertive, and quite possibly passive aggressive.

Where do these people get these things … and how can they be so uncannily accurate? Creepy.

But I digress. My point was that while I don’t generally flow with the current, there are certain people that I like and  whose company I enjoy. It is important to me that these people like me, so I sometimes contort myself to ridiculous proportions to maintain their idea of me. And contortion can be a very difficult and painful experience. Especially when you’re a dunce at yoga.

Le double sigh.

Now why did I get into chakras again? Oh, right. I realise that in line with my … um … contortioning, and my overactive throat thingie, I tend to let slip things that I should not let slip. And by the time the throat is exhausted, the damage is done. Words, unlike legos, are not things you can take back.

So I’m thinking maybe my likéd ones should just stop telling me things. At least until I learn to shut my big trap…

In the meantime, please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean any harm. Honest. 🙁

Off to do some meditating to fix my chakra. It even shows me how to hum. Yay!

♫ The first cut is the deepest ♫ Sheryl Crow ♫

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