On just being me

Haven't sat in this room in a long time. Feel guilty of sorts. Feel lost of sorts. Feel lonely of sorts. All sorts of feelings. This place has collected dust, memories of a life has skimmed by without record nor recollection.

A random article from a months-ago TIME magazine I picked up for my toilet reading yesterday afternoon has lingered in my mind all day yesterday and today on my morning drive to work.

It was the "10 Questions" interview section which I love to read first every time I get my hands on TIME. They posed questions to actor Maggie Gyllenhaal, who talked about a character she was playing (and I have to type this out now from that TIME article, so that I don't miss a word):

"One of the things that's happening to Nessa is that she's going from somebody who performs all the time and feels that she has to be extraordinary to somebody who is actually a human being...

"...I think it's something all human beings can relate to -- performing themselves, thinking they're supposed to be what they imagined they were going to be when they were 20. Look, I'm 36. That performance is just not working anymore. The humanity, the places where we're terrified or weak or flawed or wrong -- and Nessa has all of that, and so do I -- that's where you're in the game."

Being human. I guess that's the theme of the week for me, and hopefully for the rest of my life. That there is no need to perform, over-achieve, to be  perfect.

This comes in the light of someone I know who is struggling with friendships in college. Oh, I remember the cruelty of social relationships. There is such pressure to conform to group dynamics, to be part of a clique, to belong. At least, I had the privacy of my own room, my cave, my haven, my net, my hole, to release those tears of depression. But at the end of the day, I got tired of sulking, tired of being depressed, tired of balancing expectations. I chucked it all out, eff-ed it, opened the door big and wide, and went along my own way.

And that way led me to volunteering, to fencing, to wheelchair basketball with a bunch of cool people, to journaling, to cycling along the old roads on my own, to Brad Jacobson, to Byron my personal music-maker, to Dawn Eisner...and always, always, always, to writing (which eventually brought me to my Zane now...)

I feel sorry that this someone has to go through the pains of friendships without a room to hole up in. I hope that she will eventually find the courage to walk down her own little path, maybe alone at first, but there is no need to fear setting foot down that road. In this world, there are plenty other travelers we meet down those roads less traveled by.