Journal Challenge Day 4: What makes you, you?
This is actually a pretty hard question. The easy answer is my blue eyes or my dark hair, my height or shoe size but those are my genes those are my mother and my father, not me. I love those things about me though, like how my eyes color changes or how bold my cheekbones are. I love my 'princess' lips as my Grandma calls them and my long piano fingers. My father's nose, and my mother's ears, all those things make up what I look like, not who I am. I could also answer with hobbies and my favorite things, but the fact that I could eat spaghetti for the rest of my life doesn't seem to really pinpoint me. It doesn't seem like a deep enough answer.
Instead, maybe it's the way I feel when "Mended Souls' comes on and how I can never get it loud enough to fully understand the passion it lights in me. Maybe who I am is how I can take out a piece of my soul and plaster it on a 12"x24" canvas but won't let it ever leave my room. Or, it's the way I sing at the top of my lungs when I'm home alone, in the shower, or in my car, the way no one has ever heard me sing before because I won't let them. How I dance when I'm waiting for my food to cook, or the way I dance when I'm full.
What makes me, me, is probably the way I pick at my nails when I'm nervous or rub my hairline when I'm stressed. How my smile transforms or the hundreds of different laughs that come out. Maybe it's the way I make a silly face every time my Gramma pulls her camera out, or how my papa and I say "Me too" instead of "love you."
I call my mother 'momma bear' and call my sister 'P'. That I say "I tolerate you" to my step-dad and my brother and I only communicate through sound effects. It's the language that my sister and I made up when we were little or the thousands of inside jokes that we share. How I call my best friend Beyonce and she calls me Beyonce's wife. The fact that I miss my friends so much that it hurts every time I see a group of people together in town. My identity is defined by the birthday cake I made for my dog, and that every single sprinkle on it represents my love for him.
Maybe it's how my brain works, in it's strange and crazy ways, like how I can remember song lyrics from 2003 but not what I had for breakfast. Thinking every little thing through thoroughly but sometimes still make on the spot decisions. I am who I am because I don't like to be given gifts unless they're homemade or because I keep every single card. The love I have for the earth and the guilt in the pit of my stomach every time I do something that's not beneficial for it. I have a compostable toothbrush but always forget my reusable cup when I get coffee. It's how I get bored when I'm not learning new things and but find joy and comfort in mundane tasks, like dishes or laundry. It's the way I perpetually have the "One Tree Hill" theme song stuck in my head even though I've never seen a full episode.
Who I am is the way I don't believe in God but really wish I did, or that I wish greek mythology was legit. How cool, but also slightly terrifying, would that be though? I am the places I have pinned that I want to visit because I want to see where my favorite hospice clients grew up. I'm the kind of person who taught my cat how to sit and shake a paw and Jackson to understand french commands. I don't talk when I'm mad but I can't shut up when I'm excited. The fact that I live in pajamas but hate just sitting around. It's the way technology pisses me off and how I hate that it claims to keep us connected but it only does the opposite.
It's the way I push myself to try new things, and it's the way I sometimes leave those as unfinished projects that I may or may not get back to eventually. It's that I cherish time together and try not to take time for granted. It's how I only shop at thrift stores. There's a hippie part of me that sometimes has a fuck it attitude.
I get mad when people can't drive or when they get in my bubble. I'm affectionate but also hate being touched. Please don't make me shake your hand. It's the fact that I have hand sanitizer in my purse, my car, and my bedroom because I'm a little bit of a germaphobe. It's the fact that I have a very decayed rabbit's foot on my key ring because I found it on the Safeway floor and thought that bunny deserved better. Its the way I live for food documentaries and can't fricken stand westerns. The way opera music makes me want to rip my hair out but country music hits the spot.
I guess it wasn't very hard after all... There are so many more little strange things that make me who I am but I think that's probably enough for one day. I'm sure the other things will come out on my blog at some point. Thanks for reading!
-Courtney
Instead, maybe it's the way I feel when "Mended Souls' comes on and how I can never get it loud enough to fully understand the passion it lights in me. Maybe who I am is how I can take out a piece of my soul and plaster it on a 12"x24" canvas but won't let it ever leave my room. Or, it's the way I sing at the top of my lungs when I'm home alone, in the shower, or in my car, the way no one has ever heard me sing before because I won't let them. How I dance when I'm waiting for my food to cook, or the way I dance when I'm full.
What makes me, me, is probably the way I pick at my nails when I'm nervous or rub my hairline when I'm stressed. How my smile transforms or the hundreds of different laughs that come out. Maybe it's the way I make a silly face every time my Gramma pulls her camera out, or how my papa and I say "Me too" instead of "love you."
I call my mother 'momma bear' and call my sister 'P'. That I say "I tolerate you" to my step-dad and my brother and I only communicate through sound effects. It's the language that my sister and I made up when we were little or the thousands of inside jokes that we share. How I call my best friend Beyonce and she calls me Beyonce's wife. The fact that I miss my friends so much that it hurts every time I see a group of people together in town. My identity is defined by the birthday cake I made for my dog, and that every single sprinkle on it represents my love for him.
Maybe it's how my brain works, in it's strange and crazy ways, like how I can remember song lyrics from 2003 but not what I had for breakfast. Thinking every little thing through thoroughly but sometimes still make on the spot decisions. I am who I am because I don't like to be given gifts unless they're homemade or because I keep every single card. The love I have for the earth and the guilt in the pit of my stomach every time I do something that's not beneficial for it. I have a compostable toothbrush but always forget my reusable cup when I get coffee. It's how I get bored when I'm not learning new things and but find joy and comfort in mundane tasks, like dishes or laundry. It's the way I perpetually have the "One Tree Hill" theme song stuck in my head even though I've never seen a full episode.
Who I am is the way I don't believe in God but really wish I did, or that I wish greek mythology was legit. How cool, but also slightly terrifying, would that be though? I am the places I have pinned that I want to visit because I want to see where my favorite hospice clients grew up. I'm the kind of person who taught my cat how to sit and shake a paw and Jackson to understand french commands. I don't talk when I'm mad but I can't shut up when I'm excited. The fact that I live in pajamas but hate just sitting around. It's the way technology pisses me off and how I hate that it claims to keep us connected but it only does the opposite.
It's the way I push myself to try new things, and it's the way I sometimes leave those as unfinished projects that I may or may not get back to eventually. It's that I cherish time together and try not to take time for granted. It's how I only shop at thrift stores. There's a hippie part of me that sometimes has a fuck it attitude.
I get mad when people can't drive or when they get in my bubble. I'm affectionate but also hate being touched. Please don't make me shake your hand. It's the fact that I have hand sanitizer in my purse, my car, and my bedroom because I'm a little bit of a germaphobe. It's the fact that I have a very decayed rabbit's foot on my key ring because I found it on the Safeway floor and thought that bunny deserved better. Its the way I live for food documentaries and can't fricken stand westerns. The way opera music makes me want to rip my hair out but country music hits the spot.
I guess it wasn't very hard after all... There are so many more little strange things that make me who I am but I think that's probably enough for one day. I'm sure the other things will come out on my blog at some point. Thanks for reading!
-Courtney
