self-portrait, february 2011
It’s probably not what I would post on Match.com, but in classic Heidi form, I’ve been pretty self-consumed the last few weeks. You want to know what I think of myself, here’s a surface scratch to get you started:
Sometimes I wear heels around the house for no particular reason. I yell at the television (a lot) when I watch hockey. I buy Radiohead, Black Keys and Pete Yorn albums before even hearing a note because I know I’ll love them. I buy concert tickets without having someone to go see the show with. I love James Joyce, Shakespeare and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, but I actively look forward to the next ridiculous Pendergast novel and a trashy vacation read. I like a good creamy stout, a tawny port, a dry cider, a robustly bold glass of red wine and a simple vodka tonic. I dig Mexican cinema, foreign period dramas and sweeping epics, but I'd rather watch a Jason Bourne movie or Purple Rain for the thousandth time. I love everything about food – the texture, smell, flavor and its ability to evoke memories, nourish, comfort and bring people together. I like to feel my hands in the earth and watch something sprout from root to leaf. I love the crisp mountain air and rocky terrain, but prefer the sand in my toes and the pull of the ocean tide. I always notice the colors of the sunrise and marvel at the awesome power of raw nature. I’m fascinated by natural disasters.
I can’t stop talking when I like someone or love something. I’m incapable of hiding my true feelings; if I’m annoyed, my body language is a dead giveaway. It works both ways. When I’m excited or happy, I can’t hide that either. I can’t always tell you how I feel; my tongue fails me and I’m forced to write it down. I make a lot of mistakes, but I learn from them even if it takes longer to recognize it than it should. I can be stubborn and highly competitive. I’m genuinely proud of my friends and family for their accomplishments. I surprise myself frequently, more so of late, and recognize my efforts, successes and failures. I’m imperfect, and I don’t expect perfection from others. I do expect the best, even if I sometimes prepare for the worst. I am hopeful, even at my lowest points.
I’m not the pretty girl. Or the popular one. I’m the best friend of the pretty girl. In fact, I don’t cause a stir, EVER, when I walk into a room. It’s an unfair advantage; I observe. I can move from room to room without notice. I’m the girl who knows you better than you know yourself, because I see you clearly when you think no one’s looking. I’m the confidante. I’m reliable, dependable, loyal. Sometimes to my own detriment. I’m deliberate but not practiced. I try too hard. All the time. Especially when I know what I want. At any given time, I have more passion and determination than I know what to do with. In all my years, I still haven’t figured out how to harness it. And I don’t know if I really want to tame that part of myself.
I believe in romance, decency, humor, ghosts, the wisdom that comes with experience and honesty. I will try anything once; twice if I like it; and a third time just to be sure. Despite the rampant thoughts that run through my head, I feel more normal and boring than most people I know. Juvenile, basic humor always makes me snicker. Sometimes I snort when I laugh. But I laugh just as hard as I cry. I’ve been known to cry after reading an emotionally laden line in a book. In fact, I’ve been known to cry when something strikes me as incandescently beautiful or brutally honest – from rock song to art piece. I can’t stand to hear others cry, especially children. I have a quick temper, but I forgive even if I can’t forget. I don’t understand politeness, but I have manners. I hate speaking in public, and still get nervous when I show my work to others. I am confident, but shy. I never read back my blogs before I post them.
I work hard, but it doesn’t always pay off. I adjust my expectations, of myself and others, even when I shouldn’t. I am sometimes gullible, and believe everyone means what they say. When I tell you I like, love or can’t wait to see you, that’s exactly what I mean. You will always know where you stand with me. If you ask, I will tell you what you want to know; but sometimes I find it difficult to start the conversation. If I feel cornered, I’ll scrap. If I feel lost, I write. If I find myself in unfamiliar territory, I panic but remain calm. I press on, even when I don’t want to. I have the hardest time letting go of friends, pets and relationships. I would rather suffer in silence, than burden you with my struggles. I recognize my fears, and eventually face them. I see light up ahead, even if I’m constantly moving faster to reach it. I am independent, but I need you. I believe we choose who we walk through this world with, and sometimes they choose us. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Tomorrow I will laugh at this blog entry, while everyone tries to figure out if I’m having some sort of emotional breakdown. Sometimes it’s not about the content, but the act of confession. Tonight it’s all true, but tomorrow it changes. Tell someone who you think you are, and see if they agree.
Sometimes I wear heels around the house for no particular reason. I yell at the television (a lot) when I watch hockey. I buy Radiohead, Black Keys and Pete Yorn albums before even hearing a note because I know I’ll love them. I buy concert tickets without having someone to go see the show with. I love James Joyce, Shakespeare and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, but I actively look forward to the next ridiculous Pendergast novel and a trashy vacation read. I like a good creamy stout, a tawny port, a dry cider, a robustly bold glass of red wine and a simple vodka tonic. I dig Mexican cinema, foreign period dramas and sweeping epics, but I'd rather watch a Jason Bourne movie or Purple Rain for the thousandth time. I love everything about food – the texture, smell, flavor and its ability to evoke memories, nourish, comfort and bring people together. I like to feel my hands in the earth and watch something sprout from root to leaf. I love the crisp mountain air and rocky terrain, but prefer the sand in my toes and the pull of the ocean tide. I always notice the colors of the sunrise and marvel at the awesome power of raw nature. I’m fascinated by natural disasters.
I can’t stop talking when I like someone or love something. I’m incapable of hiding my true feelings; if I’m annoyed, my body language is a dead giveaway. It works both ways. When I’m excited or happy, I can’t hide that either. I can’t always tell you how I feel; my tongue fails me and I’m forced to write it down. I make a lot of mistakes, but I learn from them even if it takes longer to recognize it than it should. I can be stubborn and highly competitive. I’m genuinely proud of my friends and family for their accomplishments. I surprise myself frequently, more so of late, and recognize my efforts, successes and failures. I’m imperfect, and I don’t expect perfection from others. I do expect the best, even if I sometimes prepare for the worst. I am hopeful, even at my lowest points.
I’m not the pretty girl. Or the popular one. I’m the best friend of the pretty girl. In fact, I don’t cause a stir, EVER, when I walk into a room. It’s an unfair advantage; I observe. I can move from room to room without notice. I’m the girl who knows you better than you know yourself, because I see you clearly when you think no one’s looking. I’m the confidante. I’m reliable, dependable, loyal. Sometimes to my own detriment. I’m deliberate but not practiced. I try too hard. All the time. Especially when I know what I want. At any given time, I have more passion and determination than I know what to do with. In all my years, I still haven’t figured out how to harness it. And I don’t know if I really want to tame that part of myself.
I believe in romance, decency, humor, ghosts, the wisdom that comes with experience and honesty. I will try anything once; twice if I like it; and a third time just to be sure. Despite the rampant thoughts that run through my head, I feel more normal and boring than most people I know. Juvenile, basic humor always makes me snicker. Sometimes I snort when I laugh. But I laugh just as hard as I cry. I’ve been known to cry after reading an emotionally laden line in a book. In fact, I’ve been known to cry when something strikes me as incandescently beautiful or brutally honest – from rock song to art piece. I can’t stand to hear others cry, especially children. I have a quick temper, but I forgive even if I can’t forget. I don’t understand politeness, but I have manners. I hate speaking in public, and still get nervous when I show my work to others. I am confident, but shy. I never read back my blogs before I post them.
I work hard, but it doesn’t always pay off. I adjust my expectations, of myself and others, even when I shouldn’t. I am sometimes gullible, and believe everyone means what they say. When I tell you I like, love or can’t wait to see you, that’s exactly what I mean. You will always know where you stand with me. If you ask, I will tell you what you want to know; but sometimes I find it difficult to start the conversation. If I feel cornered, I’ll scrap. If I feel lost, I write. If I find myself in unfamiliar territory, I panic but remain calm. I press on, even when I don’t want to. I have the hardest time letting go of friends, pets and relationships. I would rather suffer in silence, than burden you with my struggles. I recognize my fears, and eventually face them. I see light up ahead, even if I’m constantly moving faster to reach it. I am independent, but I need you. I believe we choose who we walk through this world with, and sometimes they choose us. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Tomorrow I will laugh at this blog entry, while everyone tries to figure out if I’m having some sort of emotional breakdown. Sometimes it’s not about the content, but the act of confession. Tonight it’s all true, but tomorrow it changes. Tell someone who you think you are, and see if they agree.
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