Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Warm smiles, gitty laughter, good coffee and great friends.
I have a place I go nearly everyday. I’ve been doing so for almost 5 months now. It’s my home away from home. It’s where I go when I’m feeling like crap and I need to be cheered up. It’s where I go when I’m loving life whole heartedly, so I can share it with friends. It’s everything that was appealing to me about the TV series “Cheers”, without a massive liver failure, or having to put up with that awful Kirstie Alley.
Not everyone knows my name here, but enough people that I feel important, and few enough that there are people that don’t know who I am.
I like to think those people try and guess who I am, and why I seem to think that I’m so important to all the staff.
“Who is that handsome, chubby man that all the staff greet with smiles, high fives, and a drink that they have ready before he even steps in the front door? He looks like a fat Brad Pitt”.
The concept of anonymity never appealed to me. Okay that’s not true, maybe it did in my slightly criminal past, but that was strictly a matter of convenience. Most of my life I’ve been about as subtle as a swift kick in the junk.
I’ve always wondered if this was a reflection of a large self-consciousness issue I have.
To that end I’m not even sure if I have an issue with self-consciousness. I know I did, and to combat this problem I started to tell myself and everyone I met how great I was.
I think at some point I started to believe it.
As Karl Pilkington would say “I tricked my mind into thinking it”; technically an oxymoron, but a definite possibility.
I’ve never been one for the middle ground and as such I now either float between self doubt, or supreme self confidence. I can either do nothing right, or I perfect everything I try immediately.
Sometimes both even come out in the same sentence. I just typed that I think I look like a “fat Brad Pitt”.
Reading back on what I’ve written I realize that I come across as a bit …crazy, no crazy isn’t the right word…. Kirstie Alley. Yep that’s it. One minute she’s nowhere to be found, in a cave somewhere binging on Ding Dongs, and Ho Ho’s, the next she’s the spokeswomen for Jenny Craig with all confidence of a naked child at the beach, only to be fired from the job after packing on the equivalent weight of said child.
I come off as a Kirstie Alley and I’m OK with that.
Maybe I’m okay with comparing myself to someone I hate so much only because I know in reality just how awesome I am.