What It Means

I need to write this.

I haven't spoken out loud very much these days, but I've been thinking to myself in what feels like surround sound. I can see so many things clearly, and feel so connected to myself and the world around me that I need to share my perspective with you.

I'm already aware that when I write anything, 50 percent of the response will be in support of it and the other 50 will want to discount it. This blog, though, exists 100 percent as an outlet for me. If my blog truly does have any affect, then it should be used for more than just pictures and funny youtube videos. No?

This is about us all.

This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that it's actually toxic.

This is about the girl in her bedroom who poses in front of the camera she's awkwardly holding in her outstretched hand. She'll take a hundred photos of herself until she comes up with one she's happy with, which inevitably looks nothing like her, and after she's done poring over images of herself, will post one on her Facebook page and then write something like " I don't give a fuck what you think about me."

This is about the person trying out for Canadian Idol, who while going off about how confident they are that they were born ready to sing in front of the world, are trembling so badly they can hardly breathe.

This is about me, the girl who will throw on a tutu in the middle of a crowded afterhours bar yet doesn't want anyone to look at her ...

This is about us all. Every one of us. Who all seem to know deep down that it's incredibly hard to be alive and interact with the world around us but will try and cover it up at any cost. For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, we're all just one sentence away from being brought to tears ... if only such sentence was worded the right way. And I don't want to act immune to that anymore. I took the biggest detour from myself over the years and I committed myself to stop caring about what others thought. I got to the point where I had so much padding on that I couldn't feel the negativity ... but that's because I couldn't feel much of anything.

And I think I'm done with that.

I'm not the first person to admit we're all self conscious (I think Kanye was). But what I want to do is to shed a little of my light on why we're all in the same boat, no matter the shape of the life we lead: because every one of us were told since birth that we were special. We were spoken to by name through a television. We were promised we could be anything that we wanted to be, if only we believed it and then, faster than we saw coming, we were set loose into the world to rub shoulders with the millions of other people who were told the exact same thing.

And really? REALLY? It turns out we're just not all that fucking special, when you break it down. Beautifully unspectacular, actually. And that truth is going to catch up with us whether we want to run from it or not. It's just a matter of how old you are once you embrace that fact.

What now, then? I can only really say for myself: Enjoy who I am, the talents and the many liabilities. Stop acting careless. In fact, care more. Be vulnerable but stay away from where it hurts. Read. See more shows. Of any kind. Rock shows, art shows, boat shows. Create more art. Wear hoodies to dinner. Carry a notebook and hand it to people when they passionately recommend something and ask them to write it down for me.

Root for others.

Give more and expect the same in return.

Act nervous when I'm nervous, confused when I don't know what the hell to do, and smile when it all goes my way. And never in any other order than that.

And when it's all over, whether at the end of my career or of this beautiful life, I should look back and say that I had it good and I made the most of it while I was able.

And so should you.