This Is Me
Or this. . .
Or on a really good day, this
But it all ends up the same.
I'm not good enough to be a monkey's mama. I'm a chicken gurl. :(
There is a knitting group with which I've become acquainted - the West Hollywood Stitch n Bitch. I feel I know a couple of them intimately, like (www.golden-state.blogspot.com), or (www.crazyauntpurl.com). But bottom line, I'm a big chicken when it comes to meeting them in person. Last night, I was *THIS CLOSE* to actually attending the group, where they sit around, drink, talk, eat and knit (sounds *perfect* for me, doesn't it?!). But on the drive over from work, I CHICKENED out. Back and forth, I tried (I really did!) to convince myself I should go. Jman said I should really go, and I really wanted to go, but I was scared. Scared I wouldn't fit in. Scared they won't like me, or worse, not even notice I was there. See, I'm not young and pretty and edgey, like Ms. Kendra. I'm not Southern and literate and humorous like Aunt Purl. I'm just a loner who doesn't play well with others.
I blame it on my upbringing (naturally). Being a military brat, I was always the new kid, always leaving people behind, had a preternatural ability to just let people go without even looking back. Served me well back then. It wasn't until college that I made my first *real* friend, and even now, my friends are few and far between. But I feel there is a little socialite buried deep within me, a bouyant blond cheerleader that wants to do coffee and lunch and pilates with people she's just met.
Maybe some day. Hopefully soon, because I'm really tired of being this
When I really want to be this