I recently read a quote by E. B. White, about essayists. I have taken it as my own, since bloggers are certainly the new columnists and essay writers.
"The [blogger] is the self-liberated man, sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him is of general interest. He is a fellow that thoroughly enjoys his work, just as people who take bird walks enjoy theirs... Only a person who is congenitally self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write [a blog.]"
That is highly accurate.
And today, I am especially self-centered. Because today is my birthday.
Sometimes I see personal ads and I read them with interest, and the proverbial grain of salt.
After passing one of those silly Domo billboards the other day, I started thinking about what my "honest" personal ad might say. Of course, I am not looking for anyone in my life, and my perspective of myself is probably as skewed as anyone's. Maybe more so, since I have ridiculously high self-esteem in most areas.
But today, on my 24th birthday, here's who I am:
Mother of two, addicted to them. Needs more and better sleep and food than most to function. Loves to dress well, and dress those around her, but has a natural propensity towards costumes and an excess of pea coats.
Wants to be Ma Ingalls, and will spend hard-earned money on experiments with salted pork and fabric for homemade quilts. Loves children's books, black and white movies, and folksy music with too much banjo. Loves to document with words, and has a camera glued to her nose. Reads and writes poetry in sunny windows and under shady trees. Hates exercise, farts in her sleep, is afraid of pain and loneliness. Snuggles. Daydreams. Wishes she could garden. Wants to make people laugh, feel good about themselves, and love her.
Dwells on the hurtful words of others. Is sometimes too blunt, too rash, and unintentionally hurtful. Is sometimes intentionally hurtful, but feels immediately guilty.
Wife to a dreamer. Loves watching her husband grow, experiment, succeed, and be excited and passionate - but is constantly afraid for his life. She has nightmares and visions of him dying and cries when she misses him, even though he's just at work. Loves being a woman and mother. Loves The Lord, His Gospel and words. Wants to be like him, and is so far from perfect. But she's trying.
Is passionate and thoughtful, sometimes about silly things. Dedicated to relationships, but forgets names. Loves her family. Her mom is her best friend. Is generous, and wants to help and feed those around her. She's a good sharer.
Idealistic. Wishes she was spontaneous, but is in love with pattern and sameness. Homebody. Is happy with a little, usually. (Sometimes she yearns for full-priced clothes at Gap.) Is passionate, sometimes to a fault. Sets her heart on things, and then gets them.
Wants to be creative, but has low creativity self-esteem. Makes friends quickly, but hates going new places. Is afraid of driving by herself and finding things in large grocery stores. Wants to be the best wife, mother, and friend to everyone. Likes to have a tidy home, but often gives up cleaning. Drinks a lot of water, but forgets about fruit. Loves soft-smelling babies, and wants another next spring.
Loves old stories, pictures, and names and wants to learn about and be like her ancestors. Hates to shower and brush her teeth, and rarely does either. Loves water and snow, chilly weather and when you can see your breath. Loves words and their power. Loves to cry and feel powerfully and intensely.
Is very specific about the way her laundry is folded and her bed is made. Loves to bring dinner to pregnant women. Seeks out women who need friends. Misses her sisters, adores her brother. Thinks she is pretty, but sometimes feels guilty about it.
Can't wait to own her own house. Can't spell words that use Cs instead of Ss. Can't figure out how to end this lengthy description of herself.