I haven’t smoked a cigarette in a month and a half. That’s interesting because I thought most of my inspiration came from the steady inhale and exhale of smoke. Not the addicted inhale and exhale that comes from lifelong smokers and that nice little cough they cough that makes your eyes wince as your head cocks back just a little as if you’re somehow getting out of the way of it, but rather the steady, cool, calm, collected, thoughtful smoking that artists do after playing that show that make a thousand kids have to wash their clothes when they go home. Yeah I’ve figured out that my inspiration doesn’t come from cigarettes.
I’ve also figured out that a lot of things annoy me. Some things I really can’t put into words and other things I can. I used to not want to admit that things annoyed me because it seems childish but that’s like trying to ignore your allergies…denial doesn’t make them go away…and then came Zyrtec…and then another hour having to be worked to afford the Zyrtec. (No I don’t get paid 27.58 an hour…but close) Life.
Everyday for the past month I have been getting up an hour early to go running (Valentina). And it’s a different experience every time. I don’t think a time of running goes down without me thinking, “wow…I’m running if Africa.” (insert: another honest statement about running that I’m not yet allowed to say…because I’m a leader) A lot of this trip has been me thinking about things that have happened in Africa and being like, “…now I can say that I’ve driven on the left side of the road in Africa” only to realize how childish and vain it is. One, because I won’t ever remember all the things that I’ve done in my life when I’m 40 and two because it’s stupid because this just isn’t an experience that I’m having in Africa but rather part of my life. A part of a bigger picture…my life…go figure. I guess I am glad that I can say that Africa is a part now of that bigger picture of my life. And I’ve made about ten new friends and about five close friends. Life’s great…I think.
The main reason I’m writing is to ask you a question. The question is this: Are there things in your life that you do to please other people? I’ll give you an example of what that means. I want people to think that I’m interesting so sometimes when people are coming over to my house that haven’t ever been there I’ll make myself…or rather time myself to be doing something/anything outside so it looks like I don’t spend a lot of time just inside watching Fox News. I’ll get my bike out and be messing with it or start cleaning the garage or doing something with my chickens. Do you know what I’m saying? Stupid stuff that doesn’t make any sense because it’s fake. Fake. Fake. Fake…and so I thought to myself…am I a fake person. A lot of people would say that I’m the realist person that they’ve ever meet. So how do the two go together? Me being real and me being fake. Well the answer is that you can’t sum me up with one word like real or fake. I’m a little more complex than that. Sometimes I’m fake and sometimes I’m real…very, very real. Even the people that you think are fake aren’t always fake; when they are lying in their bed at night they have real thoughts and real emotions and they are very real with themselves. When they are kissing their boyfriends and it leads to other things they are being very real with themselves and with the people they are with. Real. Real. Real.
So what is it that you do to please people or cause them to think something about you that’s not true? It could be something that’s the opposite like you do something that you know you’re not…like cocaine. I know people that have done cocaine or even do cocaine but those people aren’t cocaine. The question is then when are you going to stop being something you’re not. When you are going to start being who you are…and when are you going to start being real with people? It looks like for me, to be real with people, to show them my true self, to start being quiet. I am a quiet person. I know you don’t believe me but it’s true. Being quiet is something that scares me but it’s just who I am. You haven’t seen it before because it’s something that I do to “please people” (even though it doesn’t please a lot of people when I’m loud) I am loud and crazy and that’s comfortable to me because I think it’s what people want me to be.
So what am I? Who is Page Trimble? Am I what other people tell me I am or am I what I think I am or am I what my parents think of me or am I what the person who created me thinks I am or am I what I want to be? Am I loud or quiet or crazy or calm? If you think about it I’m sure you can say what you think I am. And if you do I’d love to hear it.
If you take some time and sit and think about who you are you’ll be able to realize it…and then you can start acting like it...or rather being it. (that’s the first thing that I’ve underlined in any one of my writings) It might take some good hard honest analyzing. It might take you asking your best friend who they think you are. I’ve found that the best way to realize what people think of you is to ask someone that doesn’t really know you how they see you and they will tell you how the world sees you…honestly. After you’ve done this you can stop pissing me off with your fakeness and I can stop pissing you off with my fakeness and we can start being real and honest and vulnerable and caring and loving with one another. I imagine this will piss God off a lot less too…he loves honesty and piss Satan off a little bit more. I promise you that I’ll take the time and try to love you if you’ll take the time and try to love someone else that you’ve been recently hurting…with your words or actions. Love. Not Beatles Love…but real love; 1st Corinthians 13 love. Holla.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
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you are brutally beautiful. you're curious and mysterious, mysterious although you wear your heart "on your sleeve".
i love you.
your fresh, flesh, and blood,
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