Pleasing everybody

I don't have a phone. I have already written about that. This past weekend has been a little of a roller coaster ride for me. And I have gone through it on this blog.

My aim is not to please everybody. I leave that unattainable feat to daylight hours of paid work in the field of PR. Here, I am me. Undiluted. Unadulterated. Uncompromising. I have had to schmooze and booze with too many people -who I'd rather not spend a moment's company with- while donning the rather uncomfortable cloak of diplomacy.

If I do find a few people who happen to like the plain, moody, borderline psycho-wack mumbo jumbo that is this blog, at least I know that others can identify.

But I am getting tired of the feeling of being two-faced. Though, others in the corporate world may say that I am a little bit too straightforward. But showing up everyday to be with people I wouldn't want to socialize with even after years of solitary confinement... just about does me in. Why cant my spirit be set free?

I just want to live the life of the quintessential mad artist (but with work good and regular enough to enjoy it).

But for now, I am two faced. Hiding behind one or another so as not to hurt people's feelings, and perhaps to please them and avoid the pain of rejection. My real friends know me for who I really am. These "people" are my family.

I love them dearly and yet, sometimes I can't stand them.

The fundamentalist Christian upbringing sought to fixing a noose around my spirit. I have lived with more guilt about being a sinner than Barnabas. And top it all, I am the bastard child of a dichotomy.

I smoke. I drink. I have not been to church in 9 months. The one time I went and played games on my Blackberry doesn't count. In spite of my habits, I still manage to be a deeply spiritual person and increase my faith.

But some people are judgmental. Some people like to point fingers to say "that one is soo..." as if being condescending raises their status. The great disappointment about growing up is looking back at all the moulds you tried to fit in to be more likable and agreeable only to discover that those who are most unfairly critical of you have equally or even more damming skeletons in their closets. So who is trying to please who?

I may be the isolated black sheep, but I will damn well be true to me.