Family

I've often wondered why I am the way I am. There are times when really fantastic things happen, and I systematically tear them and myself into little tiny pieces, over-analyzing every bit to see what I could have done better. I have started to do this most recently with my web comic. Though it is out of my control in terms of how many people read it, I keep thinking that I can affect it somehow, by being more witty, charming, out there. I even added it for a brief moment on my online dating profile, to see if I could up readership that way. I realized the folly of this choice and quickly removed it from the site, but the insanity that inspired me to do it in the first place is still going strong.

I was discussing this with my mother last night, as she is pretty down to earth and wise to the world. She is usually quick to point out my bullshit. During the course of our discussion, I discovered that I have ALWAYS been this way. I was potty trained at 18 months because I didn't like being dirty. I learned to read at age 4, because I felt if my parents could read to me then I could certainly do it myself. When I was 6, I had imaginary people in my life. They weren't friends, they were parents. Mother Snow and Father Magic lived in the North Pole and were going to come and get me someday. Six year old me wanted to control who was making the rules for me. I'm very glad these two weirdos never actually manifested in my life and love both of my parents as they are both strong yet different parts of who I am today.

After my mom and I were done chatting, I continued to think about who I am and why I feel as if I am constantly silent on subjects that I should be more vocal about. Looking to my family, I decided to elect a new mantra for myself that is based upon both my maternal and paternal grandmothers. Both of my grandmothers are named Nancy. One is living in Ohio, the other passed away while I was in college. Nancy Blake is a sweet woman who makes homemade ice cream for the 4th of July and likes warm, ankle length cotton robes. Nancy Pottinger was a spitfire, who taught me sarcasm and chain smoked until she passed away from emphysema. I've always been a little more like Grandma Blake, and will continue to be so in terms of how I deal with the people I love. In terms of my creative outlets and perspective on life I am going to become more like Grandma P. I will no longer take shit from anyone. I will recognize shady characters and bypass them before they can take advantage of me. I will call out indecencies and injustices and I will burn peoples faces off with my sarcastic wit.

What would Nancy do? That is the question.