I'm not the next unabomber

Its sloppy, badly written, and suffers from extreme rambling; but it is all me, written on paper.

Last night I had a lengthy discussion with my mother about my blog. If you know either of us you know that we are extremely different. (Think Anne Shirley and Marilla.) I knew she read it but I could tell that there was something she wasn't saying. It came out that she thought most of my posts were overly dramatic in nature, but she said it was because that is who I am. She is far from this, but it is not a bad thing. For example:

My mother would write: I walked along the beach today and watched the sunrise.

I would write: I took a stroll along the sandy shore as the tide kissed my toes and the sun greeted me with its normal cheer.


The conversation continued and she voiced her concerns about some personal issues in my life, one in particular is that I suffer from romanticism. I am not mental and live in a fairytale world, but I do tend to have certain expectations that are not realistic that are romantic* and cause me to enter into a downward spiral when they don't go as expected. This was so much so that I realized that I do not know myself as well as I thought I did. Actually, I don't know myself that well at all.
These startling revelations caused me to be unable to sleep last night. It is hard to sleep when you realize you don't know who you are. I began to question everything, and realized that I do and believe in things that are not really me. I only did them because the appearance they gave were romantic. So with a pen and paper in hand I sat down and spent the next hour and a half writing down anything and everything that was on my mind. I listed things that I believed in, things I needed to confess, and things that needed to be said. In its own awkward, messy way it was my own personal manifesto.
I realized that I could care less about the way KFC treats their chickens, and that yoga is a load of crap.
That I miss my long hair.
That I want to be completely independent and self sufficient before I ever think of marriage.
I don't want to be a hardcore doctor, just a simple PA.
That I although unfortunately I still have a few feelings (and I mean a few) for this certain boy I've mentioned before, I think he is an idiot and I wish his stupid snake would eat him. I only liked the idea of him though, I never really liked him personally.
That I want to live somewhere that has a cool climate so I can be outside more often.

This continued on for eight pages. Eight, long, pages. I let my best friend and my parents read it this morning. My mom was proud of me and that I should laminate it. My dad said that it was my manifesto. It was then brought to my attention that the likes of Hitler and the unabomber also had manifestos. But that is a different story. :)

I'm keeping my manifesto, and hopefully will continue to add on to it.

Gezee, sometimes I think I am one messed up cookie.



*romantic as in life in general, this is not referring to relationships.