This is me pure and unglamourized. I chose this picture because you can see how charming and quirky I am, with my pear-coffee mug and my book of five minute classics. This picture tells probably indicates a few things.
1. I like to think that I'm charming and quirky. I'm really not. I'm way more awkward than I am charming, and I have a sneaking suspicion that people say I'm quirky because there's really no nice way of telling someone that they're awkward. This way everybody wins.
2. I drink coffee. This, also, is a lie. There is tea inside that coffee mug. The tea is even a bigger deception, though, because however much I think I should be one of those urbane, earthy people who drinks tea every day while earnestly philosophizing about the world (or at least the goodness of tea)... I'm not. I am fully pro-chocolate milk, regular milk, juice, and beer. Every so often I drink tea in an attempt to tell myself and the world that I am indeed one of those hip people at home in exotic coffeeshops. But the fact is: I just don't drink a lot of tea. I'm sorry for all the lies.
3. I like the Iliad. This would probably actually be true, but alas, I have not read the Iliad. I've read the Odyssey a few times, written several papers on it, delighted in books that have been based on the saga, etc., but the Iliad itself is unknown to me. This particular book I'm holding is a collection of famous classic books, condensed into humourous snippets of the original plots. This object sheds light on an actual truth, though, and that truth is that I adore books, of all shapes and sizes and pedigrees.
4. I protect marshes. I don't know if this is true, but I'd like to hope that I don't do anything to outwardly harm them. I mean, I don't give money or anything, but I also don't drive a pickup to preserved wetlands in the dark of night and surreptitiously dump pesticides into standing water, while wicked whispering threats to the geese and otters. The sweater belongs to my boyfriend, who doesn't partake in any strong activities for or against wetlands either. My guess would be that he got the sweater at a Salvation Army for 50 cents back in about 2003. The Boy introduced me to thrift stores a few years ago, so I can now thank him for about 75 percent of my wardrobe. He started to shop there, not because it was trendy, but because he stopped being able to fill his older brother's hand-me-downs sometime in 10th grade and didn't want to pay more than five dollars for corduroys. Boy wore lots of plaid flannel shirts about 3 years before it started to get cool. In fact, they were so cool that they were the cheapest shirts to buy, because pretty much only Bob Vila was wearing them. Bob Vila can only own so many flannel shirts, so obviously places like Goodwill had to take the others off of his hands.
Anyway.... that's his shirt.
After that breakdown of the photo evidence, it seems apparent that none of the things pictured are actually representative of me. I think that brings me to the subject of this blog. I'm documenting this time in my life because I don't know what I am, yet. I'm even wondering whether it's possible to be anything at all without it being some strange amalgamation of ironies, facades, and other people's personalities. I guess we'll see!
