Art

It wasn't until recently that I developed something many of you have had from an early age. Dreams and aspirations not only escaped me, I thought they were downright foolish, and those who believed in them to be even bigger fools. I was perfectly content to live my life as the nice, neat, hot mess that I always have been, funny on the outside and a completely lost individual on the inside. This was especially true in the "dating and relationship" department. I watched as all my friends fell in and out of love, some marrying, and some divorcing.

Sitting right on top my bucket list is a picture of me sitting right on top Mount Kilimanjaro. Whenever I say this, people look at me like I am bat swattin' crazy. You see, I am not exactly one who enjoys long strolls anywhere. I don't walk on the beach because lying down on the beach is better, I don't to hike in the forest because lying down in the forest is better, and I don't strolling through neighborhoods looking at cute houses, because lying down on my sofa in my own house is better.

In Catholic school, Sister Roseland would slap my knee and remind me that a gentleman did not stick his knees in the aisle in front of lady. I tried to explain to her that I was freakishly tall and that my desk was far too small, hoping she would cut this giant a little slack. She did so by sticking me I the back of the classroom away from the normal sized kids, where, as she put it, she never walked. I grew to hate being tall. I looked for the lowest soles on shoes and wouldn't dream of wearing boots or anything that added height to what already seemed an obnoxious mistake.

God forbid I should ever have to take a really good look at myself on the inside. While so many of my friends spend countless hours and countless dollars trying to find themselves, one actually spent more time than I think he should have getting tattoos and donkey in a small Mexican town/prison, I prefer to embrace the mystery that remains in me. Call it fear, if you like, because really, that is what it is. I scare the dickens out of myself with what I already know about me; I care not to scratch any farther than the surface.