Eye of the Beholder.

I think my eyes have changed color.

I had an assignment in high school to write a descriptive essay about my eyeball. Not about the shape, the lashes, or the lid, but just the literal, actual eyeball. I remember it being a pretty hard assignment for me at the time, but it did give me an occasion to study my eyes pretty closely.

This is what I remember describing in great detail:



But now my eyes seem significantly less... brown. More like this:



What is that? Is that even possible? Do people's eyes just up and change color? What do you even call that color? Brownish-green? Hazel? I refuse to except that. I have brown eyes! MY EYES ARE BROWN! Nobody writes songs about their Ambiguously-Colored Eyed Girl.

Let's just hope this is a bad eye week and things will be back to normal soon. Because I don't think I can handle this.

"Only perfect practice makes perfect."

The quest for perfection is not about never making mistakes, or always choosing the right thing. It is more about becoming whole and complete. It is about becoming the woman I want to be. It is about looking at the person I am now and seeing how I can become better. And that's the key word for me: better.

My issue with perfection comes into play here. I look at all the things I love and in many cases see a "better" choice. The question is not “Can I do this and still be a good person?” but rather “Does doing this make me a better person?”

And that's where I stall. There are tons of things that I enjoy, and part of me is defined by them. If I give them up to become “better,” am I giving up too much? Am I giving up a part of me? Right now, I am not willing to do that. And a part of me knows that's okay, life is a refining process. I'm not supposed to become perfect all at once.

But... why the heck not? Why shouldn't I be perfect all at once? If I already know who the ideal me is, why shouldn't I become her now? Why am I not strong enough to throw off the things holding me back?

That's why I think I get frustrated sometimes. The things that I want right now do not mesh with my idealized best self. I should not want to cling to my vices so tightly, but I do. I like them. They define me. And until I am willing to give them up, I cannot be perfect.

And I don't know how to resolve that internal tension.



p.s.: In trying to brainstorm this out, I made a bunch of images to help me visualize what I thought perfection was. They kind of contradict each other, as I was arguing back and forth with myself. A lot of it had to do with deciding if perfection was a binary state. I'm not really going to explain them, but I figured I would add them on the end for funsies.

Best Scripture Ever? (Alternative View)

God brought them out of Egypt; he hath as it were the strength of an unicorn. -Numbers 23:22

Best Scripture Ever?

God brought them out of Egypt; he hath as it were the strength of an unicorn. -Numbers 23:22

IMHO

So I took this Narcissism Quiz today (which I found through this post).

After answering the questions, I got this result:


Now, considering the 'normal' threshold starts at 12, I am kind of surprised at how low my score is. I'm glad I'm not super narcissistic, but I'm not sure what the alternative is. Does this mean I'm humble? Or have low self-esteem?

Now, of course, this quiz is not perfect (though I think it is at least one step up from a Facebook quiz... but maybe not). Also, these results are based on my answers and therefore subject to a lot of my own personal biases. But still, It's got to indicate something. I'm not sure what to make of it.

What do you guys think?

Awesome, part 1

Martin and I ordered pizza the other day. There was a deal for 2 medium, 1-topping pizzas, so that's what we ordered. One with mushrooms, and one with green peppers.

When they came, one had mushrooms, pepperoni, and (oddly enough) a single piece of sausage. The other was predominately green pepper with a few random pineapple chunks.

Now, this seems like poor customer service, right? We should call and complain, right?

Except... we kind of liked it. It was exciting. Martin and I are both poor decision makers. (We don't make poor decisions, we just make decisions poorly.) So having no control over what goes on our pizza was kind of fun. And we got a few extra toppings for free.

Awesome.

Awesome, part 2

In other news, Martin bought some new furniture recently. We needed to move the old couch out of the way before the new stuff got delivered, so we decided it should go in the library (as I am pretentiously calling the upstairs loft area). When I realized this would entail carrying a couch UPSTAIRS, I was trying to think of who I could call to help me.

I would like to point out that Martin is a featherweight. Like, a complete pansy. As she would say, "I have muscles, they're just not very big." So having her help me was kind of out of the question. I figured I'd have time to come up with something before the delivery date, which wasn't going to be for a while.

But. Yesterday the store called us and told us our new furniture had come in early, and could they deliver it that night? Eek!

But you know who's awesome? Martin! We totally carried a couch. Upstairs. By ourselves!

Awesome.

Wine Key?

My new job requires me to carry this at all times:



However, as of yet, they do not require me to know what it is for or how to use it.

Conversations Among Sisters.

So I'm thinking about trying to possibly get around to maybe looking for a job now that I'm officially settled in. As part of this, I've been working on my résumé.

Yesterday I asked my eldest sister, Mean Mommy, to look over portions of it and give me some advice. Apparently she and Martin were chatting at the same time because...

Martin: Why are you having [Mean Mommy] help with your résumé?

What, my expertise isn't good enough for you?

Me: Nope.

What kind of jobs have you ever gotten with your résumé?

She was clearly the better choice here

Martin: What?

I have a job!

She didn't need her resume for having kids!

Me: :)

I continued my chat with Mean Mommy in the other window...

Me: Martin says having kids isn't a job

And requires no skill

Mean Mommy: :|

Me: I know! I'm so glad I didn't ask her to help.

Mean Mommy: Yeah. She has a crappy 'government' job. Who wants that?

I can only imagine the conversation held between them after that, but soon enough...

Martin: Tattling on me?

Me: I thought [Mean Mommy] should know what you really think of her.

Martin: I just said she didn't need a resume.

Not that having kids wasn't a job.

Which it isn't.

me: !

Anyway. Apparently I like sewing seeds of discord.

And also posting private conversations without getting permission first.

Or asking forgiveness after, for that matter.

My legacy?

Googling my name is way less awesome than it used to be. There used to be a clunky little webpage for a book club I was in. There used to be a passing reference to me in my school district's newsletter describing me as an AP scholar with distinction. There used to be a list titled "People I fre@kin Love" on the personal website of an old friend; I was one of those fre@kin people. Now all of those things have disappeared.

Also, my name used to be mine. Now there is some new chick with my name popping up everywhere. She must have gotten married recently, 'cause she didn't exist before. Now she's all the sudden #1! I've been me my whole life, but she gets the first result! With her MySpace of all things! (Outrage!)

There are only four actual references to me anymore. One is my Facebook profile, two are comments I've made about the 100 Hour Board, and one is a credit for a short film project I "acted" in. That is apparently all the Internet knows about me.

I am unlikely to go around posting things under my full name just to change this, though. I should feel lucky for what I do have. Most people don't have a name uncommon enough to google themselves anyway.

I guess I am resigned.

But still.

Bummer.