Much to say, but not enough time to get really into it.
This weekend is going to be a lot of fun. It can’t help but be anything else.
The past few days since about Monday night have been a roller coaster ride of sorts, at least internally. I’ve worked things out in my own mind, though. All by myself, even. I feel a whole lot better about a bunch of things, now.
I don’t really know what I want to say. There’s a lot going on inside, and I want to be able to just set it aside for this weekend, and come back to it next week, after SecretCon.
I’m tired of something, though. I’m tired of people blaming my decisions and reactions on things that imply I have no control over them. My old boss at a store I worked at did it, when I told him that I was going through some rough times at home, he later questioned a reaction I had to what I found to be a highly charged and dangerous situation, because, as he said it, I was “high-strung in the first place anyway.” It seemed to automatically cancel out my reaction, making it a pointless addition to an official report on a situation, making me feel as though my feelings on it were minimized.
I’m tired of people saying I’m just moody because it’s the week before my period starts. As if that explains the depth of the feelings I’m having. As if that excuses them, makes them less real because they’re hormonal. As if anything I feel during that week is false and misleading.
I’m tired of people assuming that I haven’t been making decisions on my own. I’m tired of them wanting to know my reasons for making decisions. They’re mine, I choose to make them for my own reasons, and no one else really needs to understand why I do besides me. If I make a decision that someone else doesn’t understand, I should not have to explain to them every last detail of why. If they believe in me as a whole person, as someone who is adult and able to make choices and accept her own mistakes, then they should be able to deal with not knowing my why. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. I can deal with my own mistakes, and I will be the only one who realizes it when it is a mistake. I will be the one who will have to deal with consequences, if they occur.
Right now, I am happy with my decisions. I wouldn’t say that they’ve been easy, but they are mine, I own them. They have made me happy, more comfortable with myself, and they’ve got me branching out into things that I’ve always wanted to do but never got around to doing.
We’re going to kick ass as the Secret Show on Sunday. We’re good. I’m proud of that fact. I would never have gotten this into it before, though. I was scared, I just assumed I would be half-assed, so I might as well do a half-assed job of it, then no one could compare me to anyone else who performed without my being able to say ‘Well, I didn’t really practice or get into it.’ No, now I have practiced, I’ve learned entirely new songs, I’ve decided to put myself into the project because it matters to me, and if I fuck it up, then I’m going to have to deal with it. I don’t think I’m going to fuck it up.
This is my life now. If I fuck it up, I’m going to have to deal with it. I don’t think I’m going to fuck it up.