The Way It Goes

As I've gotten older, the rate at which I learn things about myself has started to snowball. Now, every day brings a new surprise with it, a little gift.

A few nights ago, I had drinks with a very dear friend who broke my heart once, and he told me something that I'm finally able to accept, and to believe.

Megan, it takes an incredible amount of force to ignore you, to even begin to try to not think about you.

That's sweet, isn't it? I suppose my brilliance is very hard to hide. I don't mean that in an egotistical way at all, just in the way that some people accept that their nose will always be this shape or that, their legs will always be so long (like my sister) , or whatever. I'm not easily forgotten, and that's comforting. But people will continue to try.

For the past few months, I've been working on a little experiment. I've thrown practicality and reason almost entirely out the window, and just let my intuition guide me. The crushing blows are much less crushing, and I feel like time has sort of stretched itself out and allowed me to get perspective on things as they come. If I don't get what I want, I will get something a million times better.

That's how I know it's all going to be okay. Wonderful, even.

Flat Megan

Today on DListed's (don't judge) "Hot Slut of the Day": Flat Stanley.

This surprise appearance by one of my favorite characters ever made me do a little sporadic Googling (very bad timing, I have 2 papers due today that I've yet to begin). I looked at the images page and saw pictures of little Flat Stanleys with former Pres. Bush & Condaleeza Rice. This led me to the site where teachers, children and everyone else can go to print out their own Flat Stanley which they can then mail or, I guess, take with them when they hobnob with world leaders and celebrities.

It took a few minutes of staring at the site before I was overcome with a rush of memories. In my K-4 class, we made Flat Stanleys to mail. We got to dress them up however we wanted and mail them somewhere (maybe to the author?). Now I'm sitting here in my college cafeteria, books about Africa and African History strewn around, and all I can think about is Flat Stanley. I never mailed mine because I didn't think he was good enough.

This is a recurring theme in my life. Many, many times I don't do things entirely because I'm afraid they won't be good enough. From mailing Flat Stanley at 4 to papers and assignments now (much less often than in high school, though). I guess I'm beginning to realize that I'm never going to be perfect, nor should I try to be. But in my quest to be the best that I can be, trying is part of getting there.

Wherever "there" turns out to be.