Phase Shift...Engage!

"If you could be any animal, what would you be?"

A common-place question designed to get children to think about their personalities and qualities (or those they hoped for) in terms of an animal analogy.
"I think I'm sweet and cuddly, so I would be a bunny."
"I want to be ferocious and feared, so I would be a lion."
"I like to play, so I would be a dog."

My answer? "I would be a chameleon!"

Yes, bow to the awesome power of my horns

I have always given that answer. I think at one point I said I would be a tiger, but that wasn't because I was like a tiger; I just wanted to know what it was like to rip something to pieces with my just my teeth. No, I related most with chameleons. Why? Well, let's do a break down of their characteristics:

1. Blending in Abilities: Chameleons are distinctly different in that they have the ability to blend in by changing their color at any point in time.  At one point, people thought this was for camoflage. We now know that chameleons can change color for a number of reasons: temperature, light, mood.

This doesn't mean I'm in a "loving" mood, if you catch my drift.

I always found myself fascinated by this idea--to blend in by changing oneself. Other animals can blend in, but only because they already look like what they are trying to emulate. Chameleons can actually change their color to match whatever they are associating with. And I really relate to that.

I have always felt relatively...odd. I'm not like other people. And no, not in the "I'm unique--just like everybody else" mentality. I mean, seriously different. Put me in a room with one or two people, and I'll do just fine. I can charm the pants off of those two. Put me in a room with five to ten people, especially people who know each other better than me, and I'll sit back and watch before I make any reactions. I have to assess who I need to be before I can "be" anybody. It's the way I've always been. If I try to be "myself" (whoever that is), I always end up making people cock an eyebrow because I've said something absolutely out of the realm of polite conversation.

What da fuk you jus say?

Yes, yes, everybody deals with this, I know. But I deal with it in a way that paralyzes me. The internet has allowed me to deal with my weirdness a little better (thank you Cracked.com for showing me that other people think and feel the same way I do!), but I still find myself adjusting who I am when placed in a room of five or more people. A defense mechanism, if you will. Speaking of defense mechanisms...

2. Defensive Stances. Chameleons can make themselves appear larger when threatened. Like many other animals, they can "puff up" to drive away predators who then find the chameleon too big for their liking.

 

"Puff up, puff up. They hate that!"



Apparently (and I just found this out from my students a few years ago) when I get really threatened or defensive, I seem taller than I am. My students are always surprised to stand next to me when I am in sandals or tennis shoes because they think I'm so much bigger. It's a human trait, sure, but I have always been "bigger and badder" than people who attack me. You're a 6 foot 1 tennis player who could wipe me out with one backhand? So what! I'll crack out my crazy on you and get right up in your face! You have six other chicks standing behind you who are willing to jump me? Okay, bring it, ho-bag! Imma whoop all yo asses!

My barechested manservant will help by blinding you.

For the record, I'm all of 5 foot 3 and a half (the half is important) and, for most of my life, weighed a buck ten. I was whooping absolutely no ass if someone wanted to call me on it.

But it always worked. I guess my crazy scared them or something, but when I would "puff up" and meet these people head on like I had nothing to lose, they would back down. And yes, I say "my crazy" because, I  would make claims like "I know enough police officers in this town that will ignore it if you go missing" or "There's a track of land my family owns that has a bayou running along the back of it; want to go see if there are any friendly gators in it?"



3. Periodic Shedding. Chameleons shed their skin to make room as they grow. Caterpillars turn into butterflies, but that's the only change they make. Chameleons shed their entire outer skin layer periodically every few months to a year. As they get older, the time between shedding gets longer, but by the time they are finished, they still look the same as they did, but they are, in fact, entirely different. 



Butterflies ain't got nothin' on this shit.



This is the other big reason I identify with chameleons (and reptiles in general). Every few years, I shed myself to make room for a new me. Not in the way others grow and change where they envelope their old lives as part of some new interest or development. No, I am like a reptile in that every three or four years, I shed everything of my old life and start fresh.

It starts with little things like changing my hair color or cut. Then, it branches out to finding new hobbies, which lead to new friends, which lead to new interests and more new friends, which leads to more new interests. By the time I'm done (around a 1-2 years later), I have stopped talking to all of my previous friends, abandoned any hobbies I was previously interested in, replaced all of my clothes with whatever new style I found my "new" self attracted to, bought a new car, moved into a new place, and often have a new job.

I've grown out of my "mom" phase; you'll do just fine on your own, right?

When I was younger, this made sense. All pre-teens and teenagers are going through a period of "finding themselves." I got comfortable with the rotating of friend groups and interests every semester or so, and I was lucky enough that when I found myself moving back towards a previous group, those people were fairly kind about welcoming me back into the fold. Now, though, it's a little more complicated.

I realized it this year when I noticed how different my clothing style had become and how much I was changing in a very short period of time. I have been slowly changing over the last two years, since my grandmother died, because I realized after her death that I was unhappy with the way I was living my life. I thought that if I just made little changes, I would be a happier person and closer to the type of person she was. Well, those little changes led to more little changes and...now, I'm living in a new apartment with a closet full of brand new clothes, contemplating my brand new future of being a PhD student yet I'm stuck because there are a lot of people and relationships in my "previous" phase shift that I don't want to lose but who feel like square pegs in my round hole.

Ooooh, I should probably change that analogy. Nah, I'll leave it. You're welcome.

I guess this is a part of growing up that I never knew about, learning which whims to act upon and which not. I know that if I continue being the "chameleon" that I am, I will never find happiness within myself, and that is my true one and overall goal. Anybody know how to make a chamelon stop shedding its skin? Short of death?


What da fuk you jus say?

Starship Date: 1.1.2013

In the spirit of new resolutions, I decided to start a blog. Who knows if anybody will read this blog, but at least I have a reason to type. I make the same resolutions every year--become healthier, save money, write more--but I never actually do it. And well, it's time to do it. I don't know how much I'll type. I don't know how often I'll type. Hell, I may sit down at the computer and feel the need to type "Bleh" over and over, but as I tell my students, everybody starts somewhere, so here's my somewhere.
There's so much pressure nowadays to be awesome at whatever you attempt that I sometimes feel overwhelmed by my lack of awesome. I mean, I'm pretty awesome, but there are so many people out there who are just MORE awesome than I am. I guess my New Year's resolution should be "Be More Awesome than [insert name here] This Year." That's pretty obtainable, right? I just need to identify people I think are awesome and try to match one person's awesomeness. I'll need to identify who is obtainably (is that a word?) awesome first; don't want to discourage myself too soon by trying to match the awesomeness of somebody like Teddy Roosevelt (only the most awesome person to have ever existed).

So, who do I think is awesome? Well, for this blog, let's just focus on my heroes.

1. Teddy Roosevelt. Why was he so awesome?

He was a badass! And not in the 1980s-Steven-Segal-Jean-Claude-Van-Damme type of badass. I mean, certifiably, if-there-was-1890s-UFC-he'd-whoop-Ray-Couture-and-Cain-Velasquez-with-his-thumbs badass. He was a sickly child who told asthma to go f--- itself to become a boxer, a hunter, and overall nature aficionado. He became president when he didn't want to be and instead of whining and crying about it, he said well, let's get some shit done, and did. There's too much for me to type here (and I'm getting impatient with attempting to identify EXACTLY why he's so awesome), but let's just end with the fact that the man took two shots to the chest during a speech and continued with his speech before going to the hospital.

So, how can I be that awesome? At this point in my life, I unfortunately cannot be as awesome as Teddy. He came from a wealthy family and had the luxury of just abandoning whatever he was doing to follow whatever pursuit he felt infatuated with at the time. I do want to be more like that, though, a renaissance woman, knowledgeable on a variety of talents. Maybe I can take that from him this year--don't be afraid to pursue something new just for the hell of it.

2. Amelia Earhart. Why was she so awesome?

 I've read her biography so many times, it's tough for me to identify what exactly I find amazing about her. The most important thing, I think, was that she wasn't afraid to be adventurous and daring in a time when women were supposed to be demure and frail. She broke records that most men couldn't and was relatively modest about it--in the sense that she didn't think it made her any different than other people. She was brought up as I was--allowed to be and do what she wanted to do because she enjoyed it. I sometimes lament the fact that my mother didn't encourage the more feminine pursuits in me, but then I look at Amelia Earhart and realize that just because I didn't learn to dance or cheerlead or do coutillion doesn't mean I'm any less of a woman that all those girls are.

So, how I can be that awesome? I've modeled pretty much my entire life after her, so I've already leeched some of her awesomeness. The biggest hurdle is that there aren't a lot of endeavors that women haven't tried, and succeeded at anymore. I could come up with some lofty goal to achieve, like her flight around the world, but I don't want to do something that hardcore yet. Maybe after a couple of years of becoming more awesome on a smaller scale, I'll do something like "Be the First Woman to Run a Marathon in Each of the Major Capitals of the World" or "Run from the North Pole to the South Pole and Back." But I don't want to think that big--YET.

3. Albert Einstein. Why was he so awesome?

I'm not even going to attempt to list all the ways Einstein was amazing. Simply put, the man was beyond brillant, creative, and imaginative. He was told at a young age that he would amount to nothing because he couldn't pass mathematics as a boy. Pshaw! He changed the entire platform of science, specifically physics, as we know it. And he was totally cool with be quirky and weird while doing it. Rumor is that he was a relative ladies' man, much in the way of Benjamin Franklin. I wouldn't be surprised if that were true. Hell, if I were alive back then, I'd probably be one of those ladies, if only to listen to him talk about Physics and learn a thing or two!

So, how can I be that awesome? Well, I don't have an IQ off the charts like he did. I have a pretty high IQ, and I can always make it better, but not quite as high as Einstein or Hawking. Science is like freaking magic to me, so I can't really accomplish anything there. I guess, all I can really gain from his awesomeness is the ability to rise above my current expectations to prove everybody wrong. Oh, wait, that's my freaking motto in life. Nevermind, Einstein, I've already leeched your awesomeness, too. :P

4. My grandma. Why was she awesome?

My grandma had a lot of faults. She was needy. She was whiny. She was the perpetual martyr. She always wanted you to do more for her than what you did or could do. She was gossipy; if you told her anything, the ENTIRE family knew about it by the end of the next calendar day, whether you wanted them to or not. But admidst all of those faults, she was amazing.

She loved to laugh. And not in that slight giggle that some women have because they don't want to seem too crude. No, my grandma could guffaw with the best of them. It rang throughout a house when she got going. And her laugh was infectious. She wasn't afraid to find things to make her laugh, either. Her and grandpa would get dressed up in crazy costumes for Mardi Gras and Halloween. They would throw Super Bowl parties that were WILD, like off-duty-police-officers-taking-their-clothes-off kind of wild. She didn't care. She just wanted to have fun, and she wasn't afraid to do what she wanted to get it.

Her sense of humor was infectious, too. Again, there were no holds barred with my grandma. She would tell a joke or crack a quip about the crudest subjects if she thought she could get a laugh out of somebody. At her birthday party one year, she had boobs and peni on her cake (told you, she was awesomely crude), and when it was time to cut the cake, she announced to the entire party that my cousin, Kris, should get a piece with boobs because those were the only set he'd ever see. She once called me when I was 12 to tell me a joke: "What happens when you flip the Energizer Bunny's battery upside down? He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming." Yeah, she was that awesome.

She wasn't just about having fun; she would take care of anybody she loved as steadfastly as a mama bear and her cubs. I know that's a tired cliche, but it's the best one I can devise that truly shows how much my grandma loved her family. How about this image? If anybody tried to harm us or if we needed anything, my grandma would cut a bitch faster than a two-dollar ho fighting over a quarter on the street. She (and my grandpa) took in every member of our immediate family at least once. They didn't have to do that. Hell, when I have kids, I'm not doing that. You're 18 finally? Get the f--- of my house and be an adult! But not my grandma (and grandpa, but he's on another blog...:P). One time, when I drove in from Tallahassee in the middle of the night to visit, I was so hopped up on espresso and chocolate to stay awake that I was physically shaking. My grandmother, at 3 o'clock in the flipping morning, proceeded to make me a margarita to calm me down. And not just a bottled, piece of crap one. No, my grandma did the full monty--she mixed some fresh sour mix, blended it with ice and Jose, made a salt bed to salt the rim of the glass, and even cut me a freaking garnish. That's the kind of woman my grandmother was. Even when she was battling cancer, she would babysit my uncle's two young boys so that he could go to work and still have them live with him.

So, how can I be that awesome? I have been slowly attempting to be more like my grandma since she passed two years ago. It was a life-changing moment for me, realizing that one of the two women in my life I considered unreplaceable was gone. I had only seen her faults until that point, never her awesomeness. And seeing how many people truly recognzied her awesomeness (the memorial hall was standing room only) made me question my view of her, and of myself. The biggest message I've taken from her, and the one that I'm going to keep trying to achieve is don't stop having fun; if you're not having fun, do something else. It's a message I had not learned until she died, but it's one that I find utterly the most important now that I'm almost 30.

5. My mom. How is she awesome?

I have a complicated relationship with my mother. Much like my grandma, I usually only see her faults. She's pretty selfish in that EVERYTHING has to be about her--even when it has nothing even remotely connected to her. She gets crazy angry at the drop of a hat, and usually at the strangest things. She usually chooses men over me. She needs to be needed and when she's not, she'll find someone who does (which is why she usually chooses men over me--I don't need her the way she wants me to). She'll call me six times a day for something she could just send in a text. But even when I am frustrated to all hell with her faults, I have to stop and acknowledge all of her awesomeness because my mom is pretty freaking awesome.

My mom is fiercely independent when she wants to be, almost to a fault. Oh, the gate at the back of the fence broke and needs to completely redone? No problem! My mom will do it. The 200 lb all-wood sofa bed needs to get moved and there's nobody home to help? No problem! My mom will do it. And when I mean she'll do it, I don't mean she'll try. I mean that she'll actually freaking do it. She will find a way to make something impossible happen if she wants it to. When she had me at 17, people told her she couldn't raise me on her own. Well, in the style of my first 3 heroes, she basically said, "F--- that!" And did it. Fairly well, if I do say so myself. She tried college and couldn't make that work, so instead of just depending on Grandma and Grandpa, she went to work as a bartender in Biloxi. She moved out on her own (with me, of course). She worked her ass off to make enough money so that we could live without depending on our family. Although I say she can be selfish, it's that kind of independence and sacrifice that makes me realize how awesome and unselfish she can be.

My mom is amazing creative. She doesn't know it, though. If she could channel her anger and passion into something like art or sculpture, my mom would be the next Picasso, but she's so worried about making enough money to survive that she never has time to realize these things (see above). For example, she needed a stand for her room and also a back light that wasn't as bright as a lamp or overhead light. So, she took window shutter (I don't even know why we had one--we didn't have shutters on our windows) and white christmas light rope and I don't remember what she put on top, but she created this really cool, backlit accent table. No joke, it looked so cool it could have sold on Etsy or Ebay or something. She just did it because she wanted it. I used to think I was creative, but if I could be at least half as creative as my mom, I wouldn't have as much trouble writing as I do now.

She  is also insanely passionate. Like literally, if she had existed in Victorian-era England, they probably would have locked her up in the insane asylum. The getting angry at the drop of a hat that I mentioned earlier? That's a product of her passion. Yes, I know I mentioned that as a fault, but really, the passion is part of her awesomeness. My mom feels nothing in moderation. When she feels something, she feels all of it. She feels in it every fiber of her body. Most people would call that bi-polar disorder, and in her case, it probably is, but it's part of what fuels her creativity and independence. And her passion is something that I don't have and admire immensely.

So, how can I be that awesome? I don't know. I'm already pretty independent, probably to more of a fault than she is. I need to be passionate. Although I have changed a lot and become more open to taking risks, a la my grandma, I have also adopted a "whatever" attitude about life. I can't do the risk-taking justice if I'm not passionate about it. And I can't be a writer without passion and creativity. Really, my mom has all the attributes of my three historical heroes, and I should just be more like her. There's a lot about my mom I don't want to be like (as all daughters have that feeling), but there's a lot about my mom I DO want to be like.

All in all, I did not intend to write this much today. Actually, I should be packing to move into my new apartment tomorrow and because I've been sick ALL FREAKING CHRISTMAS BREAK, I have to pack EVERYTHING today. But, I did accomplish what I set out to do plus some. I identified one thing all my heroes have in common that I will make as my New Year's Resolution for 2013--Take More Risks (let's aim for three big ones) and Be Passionate Enough to Enjoy It. That's not a bad resolution to make, if I do say so myself. :)