Ego is a funny thing. Usually, just when I think I am past it, it jumps up and smacks me in the face.
Of course, because I believe that I am so very good in so very many ways, I can be easily shocked when someone doesn't just naturally acknowledge the quirky greatness that is ME.
Also of no shock to any of you, I don't run with the "Big Dog" mommy blogger crowd anymore. By my own choice I stepped back, over and out and frankly have not regretted the decision. I am all right with not writing books or spending every moment of my day devoted to my blog ...which isn't to say I don't love you all. I DO. But just like Mommies have real lives which don't involve their kids, so do I have a life which doesn't involve Blogging. I'm too busy with my man-whores and abuse of perscription pills.....I kid, I kid.
Again, a Choice. No condemnation there for those who chose to put their energy into those venues. But it just ain't Me.
I resist being part of a crowd in some odd and fundamental way. It seems to be ingrained in my DNA, and I imagine that my ancestors were the tenacious people who kept saying "Hey, let's see what that is Over THERE..." or "Hey, cook it and let's see what it tastes like...." or most of all "Hey, You're kind of cute, wanna roll in the hay?"
Not the ones who said "Watch this" before being eaten by the alligator hiding in the mud....My genetic marker is of those who watched those peeps get eaten and then said "I don't think that was a good idea and we should avoid poking the mean gator with a stick....and you wanna roll in the hay before we go cause we're down a member now?"
Now, the honest truth is that I am a bit of an attention whore. Who has two thumbs and loves attention? That's right. MEEEEEEE, That's who! I suppose my therapist would tell you it comes from my seeking recognition and approval and then punishing myself so the rejection and disapproval running right behind feels less painful.
And I am not saying she isn't on to something there, but Dude. I don't want to have to work too hard for it here. If I make the most tenative of movements out of the cave, I expect the person towards whom I moved to rejoice. And Rec-O-Nize.
It's the curse of the talented but crazy.
Don't poke me or shine too bright of a light ONTO me, cause I will bolt under the permafrost with a bottle of gin and a demerol drip only emerging when everyone has cleared the hell Out. Of course, don't ignore me either cause then I will get all supa-needy and offer to show you my boobs.
I wonder if I will ever get past this feeling in my life. It is a massive pain in the ass to live betwixt and between. It has not, does not, and will not serve me in my very promising academic career any more than it has served me in this Blog-o-verse. I am, as my advisor tells me, doing "Innovative and Brilliant research". I am, as my dear Internet friend tells me a "very talented writer" (Smooches to the dirty slut who told me that - she gets to totally see my boobs next time she sees me)....
My problem? An ego that is simultaneously too big...and tender to move out further into the world at large. Paired with some kind of genetic resistance to playing like a nice girl while channeling my inner ennui, it is a minor miracle that I have survived to adulthood, married and reproduced; let alone managed any KIND of professional career.
And here is where I throw an Edna St. Vincent Millay reference at you:
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--
It gives a lovely light!