"no more weathervane"

I'm investigating my own boundaries, particularly in regards to information. And it's an old, unfunny joke that everyone in the scene knows everyone else, no matter which scene it is.

And I think I show too much of my hand when I try to indicate I've earned some of my street cred on my back (insert ugly joke about on my knees. then insert an ugly joke about insertion) in the late 90s. But I also want to find myself on this map as well, or even just be on the map at all.

I don't like to tell people where I went to college, in part because I don't want the weight of what I see as all my failed potential on me, feeling like the brand name implies something untrue about me. And I don't want to say where I work, because I feel like I'm trying to sound important.

Except for, of course, when I do try. And I can hear the tinny sound of my own bravado and it's hard to stop, and it's hard not to hate myself a little bit for being so transparent, so needy.

Sometimes, I'm a rockstar who has awesome taste in people and music and books, I live with a bunch of small animals who love me, I bake like an angel and I'm married to the the world's best aggressive kisser. Sometimes, I'm a trainwreck who tries too hard, I misread all my cues, drop all my lines and I leave everyone, including myself, ill at ease like something just went quietly but catastrophically wrong just around the corner.

"no more weathervane"

I'm investigating my own boundaries, particularly in regards to information. And it's an old, unfunny joke that everyone in the scene knows everyone else, no matter which scene it is.

And I think I show too much of my hand when I try to indicate I've earned some of my street cred on my back (insert ugly joke about on my knees. then insert an ugly joke about insertion) in the late 90s. But I also want to find myself on this map as well, or even just be on the map at all.

I don't like to tell people where I went to college, in part because I don't want the weight of what I see as all my failed potential on me, feeling like the brand name implies something untrue about me. And I don't want to say where I work, because I feel like I'm trying to sound important.

Except for, of course, when I do try. And I can hear the tinny sound of my own bravado and it's hard to stop, and it's hard not to hate myself a little bit for being so transparent, so needy.

Sometimes, I'm a rockstar who has awesome taste in people and music and books, I live with a bunch of small animals who love me, I bake like an angel and I'm married to the the world's best aggressive kisser. Sometimes, I'm a trainwreck who tries too hard, I misread all my cues, drop all my lines and I leave everyone, including myself, ill at ease like something just went quietly but catastrophically wrong just around the corner.