So tonight my friend took me out on his bike. Motorcycle bike, you know. I have my own bike, thank you, but it is not the same. Not the same, at all. It’s weird, you know, to have a possibly life changing experience. This evening was a possibly life changing experience. SPOILER ALERT I am going to make some observations that are fueled by someone you know, but it is not about him specifically, do not be alarmed.

So I went on the bike with my friend. He is someone else’s boyfriend. That has never been okay, at all, whatsoever, with me. I run screaming from other peoples’ boyfriends and husbands and sometimes, usually, former boyfriends and husbands. I don’t know if this is completely silly. I get crap about it sometimes, how serious I am about it. Cause, I don’t know. It is not that I think something awful is going to happen. It’s more, I don’t know, the appearance of evil. The possibility that she is not as okay with it as she seems to be. The idea that I could unknowingly be the cause of something huge for someone else, another girl. It is not okay. So I had wondered, because I have never met her, if it would be okay. And then it occurred to me, something my friend said to me once. And it’s funny, cause it was some time ago but curiously a very, very similar situation. Anyway he was getting on me about how I take responsibility for things that are none of my business, that I cannot insert myself into other peoples’ lives, even in the form of trying to protect them from things that they do not yet know. And then I felt bad, because I saw that I was doing just that. I do not know this girl, she did not ask me to involve myself in any way in her relationship or life, and here I am doing it anyway. So when he offered the ride again, I hopped around like a ninny and totally took him up on it. Which, for me, was a big deal. Like maybe, I don’t know. That’s a whole other discussion, which I may or may not have with myself. So there was that.

Then there was my friend, who was not always my friend, and was sometimes not a very good friend to very many people. And I have historically not been a very patient, understanding person. Okay that isn’t true. People get a bahillion chances. But, really, deep down, there is only one. Cause it colors my perception of them, and then I can take them or leave them but am always polite. So anyway, I was really happy with myself for not being like that, this judgmental, brooding, hatchet digger. That was a big deal for me, also. Cause, really, I have done a lot of things that a lot of people could be really, really angry with me for, for a really long time. And who am I to hold grudges? That’s just, I don’t know, it seems arrogant. So I really try not to do it, and have had great success lately. So I was proud of myself for not being at all uncool about spending time with this person. It was good.

So anyway, he took me on his bike. I have not been on a motorcycle in at least twenty years, maybe longer. But I remembered that my uncle had taken me when I was young and I loved it, which is how he came to offer. So he picked me up and we went for a ride. I have, I don’t know. I am super keenly in touch with nature and my senses and the world around me, it is my concession to humanity that I can be moved so strongly by a tree or a plant or the curve of a leaf or a slant of light. Nothing does it to me like that, except maybe music, sometimes. Yes, music. But the world and everything in it, I am an addict. So we had discussed this book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It is an excellent book, probably more so if you are a bike rider. In completely unjust summation, it concerns the narrator’s thoughts and experiences while on a cross country motorcycle trip with his son and a few friends. It’s very, very good. So I was talking to him about it, specifically this one time in the book where he observes that riding in a car is like watching television and being on a bike is real life. The hum of the road, the asphalt so close you could touch it. And my friend said that for him, it is the fact that you can smell everything. I had not thought of that.

So he picked me up and it was about 6:45. The sun was not yet down but would be by the time we reached our destination. So he is driving, and I am hanging on, and it was a whole different world than that which you see from inside a car. And I ride my bicycle, a lot, and this was different. It was like, like, it was kind of like surfing as opposed to looking at a fish tank. All the same elements are there, but the experience is something much, much different. And he was right, the smell. On the way back it was very dark and it was just, barely, starting to rain, and the trees are blooming, and oh man. When he picked me up the sun was going down and we drove over the river and there were the lights and the boats and the sky and the water and I could hear everything and there was the wind and I don’t know, but I do not think that I am ever going to be happy in my car again. And I don’t get enthusiastic about many things. Not really. But this, this bike, this thing of moving so fast while being so close to everything, it has sunk itself into my brain, and changed it a little, made everything look different. The city, the road, the people around us, the people sitting right in front of me. Cause he was there too, you know, and it occurred to me that it would be very, very nice to be to be out there with someone I was more, I don't know, concerned with. It’s a recurring theme. Of course I could also get my own, but I don’t know that I would be comfortable driving one. My aunt is a total biker chick and she is smaller, shorter than I am. But I don’t know. But I was giddy. I was retarded with happiness. It was the best, the very best. I could not do it justice, and it seems like a lame topic to get so frothy over, but I had no idea. No idea, and now, well, this may affect my prospects for a while. It’s a good thing I don’t have any.

I talk to myself sometimes

Be as you are and speak as you feel
Because those who mind don't matter
And those who matter don't mind

-Dr. Seuss


We were discussing it, self esteem. Self esteem is defined as a feeling of pride in one's self. Pride: a cause or source of pleasure or satisfaction. So self esteem, a feeling of pleasure or satisfaction with your self.

Note the absence of reference to anyone else. Not a single one. It has nothing to do with anyone but yourself. Myself, ourselves, just us. Then why does it seem to hang so much on other people, other opinions and judgements and definitions of worth? And how is it that these other people come to be in a position where they can take it away?

I don't know, and if I did, I don't know that it would make a difference. I would like to say that it doesn't affect me, that it doesn't stick and I don't feel it and it rolls off the moment it comes, but that would be a lie. And contrary to popular belief, and how I allow it to appear, I rarely, rarely lie.

I do it, you know. A lot, sometimes. Allow what I perceive to be someone else's, well, perception of me to be the way I see myself. What do they think, because that's what is. And that is not true. No one knows what is. I don't even know what is, but it certainly is not what would be if it were dependent on popular opinion. Or unpopular opinion. I don't know where it starts. Is it with rejection? Why are they rejecting me, it must be because I am not good enough. I am not good enough physically, or emotionally, or there is something lacking in my personality or intellect and I am just, not good enough. Or maybe it's with nothing. It's all in my head, that is possible. But once you get to that point, that questioning of yourself and your worth and your own badassness, itivity, ilaciousness, it's pretty fucking hard to undo it.

I have, well, I have a lot of trouble with it. I could place blame. I could. Scott, this is your fault. This is all your fault and every time I feel this, this thing of being completely worthless, I am back with you and for that, for that I hope you roast long and slow. But it is not his fault, because if I had an ounce of self esteem I would see that his opinion and actions and whatwhat do not matter, because he is a shitty, shitty man and he was lucky to have one spit of my time and attention. Daniel, this is all your fault. This is all your fault and every time I see that scar, every time I feel those lights, every time I walk past a girl and I see myself in her, who she is and who she will be and how she is just. so. lost, I am back with you and for that, for that I would sentence you to the life that you already have, which is half a life and a stretch at that. But it is not his fault either, because if I had a brain in my head I would see that I put myself there, that I am a big girl and even at eighteen I was a big girl and no one can make me do anything that I do not sign off on. Genetics, this is all your fault. This is your fault because you did not make me something other than that which I am, something taller prettier funnier smarter luckier biggerbetterfaster more.

But that is a waste of time. A feeling of satisfaction with yourself. So he does not like you. Me. Whatever. So he doesn't like it, what. He doesn't have to. It is not his to like or not like, it is mine. Mine. And I could change, sure. Change what? I could be better. I could be prettier. I could lose fifty pounds, and I have. I have been the thin and pretty girl, and what did it get me? Attention, sure. Loads and loads of it. And what did I do with it and where did it take me? Not much, and not far. What would we change? And for what? If I am changing for myself, that is fine. If I am unhappy, I will fix it. For me.

It's not always easy. In fact it is rarely, if ever, easy. It's hard to know, or think, that you have been judged and found wanting. It is harder still to judge yourself and find yourself wanting. I don't know how to avoid it. Remind myself? Look how amazing I am!! Look at all the shit I do, and have done, and could do if needed! I'm like Wonder Woman, my God! But it doesn't matter, because no one knows. And then I hated that, that need to prove myself, that desire for someone to discover, to find out, to stumble over and realize that they were the lucky one, oh you're so luckyluckylucky because you know something no one else knows. I've grown past almost all of that, and I'm proud of myself for it. I no longer feel the need to advertise. I congratulate myself, to myself. I take the small things, and the small things are good. Remind myself, that's the ticket.

And I avoid those people or situations that make me forget. There are people that bring it out in me, specific people, and not in a helpful way. Sometimes it is helpful. Sometimes a situation or conversation sparks something and I realize You know what? I have never liked that and I don't even know why I did it and thank you for bringing it to my attention because I was irritating the hell out of myself and I couldn't pin it down and now, well, thank you. Other times, boy, sometimes I leave going What the fuck am I even doing? Why do I even try? And those times, those times are when it's hard, cause it all comes back and you can see all your work unravelling and who knows how to fix it. And it's always a surprise, always a surprise, here we are again and look how familiar!! It's like being with your friends from high school, and going See? Here we are again. Nothing changes and no matter what I do it is all an act, because in the end this is what's real and what's real is that I am not good enough and never will be and I will never be anything other than that mess that everyone else always knew I was, so I am hanging out in front of 7-11 and drinking a slurpee cause that's where it all went wrong.

But that's not true, and I know it. It's just, I don't know, it's difficult, sometimes. It doesn't always help to pat yourself on the back. Sometimes it is a long reach. Sometimes I really, really want validation, and that neediness makes me want to kick my own face in. Because I want to know those things, really know them, without being told. That I am all right, you know, and I can say and be and do what I feel because it's okay, because ultimately mine is the only approval that I need, and my happiness and value and esteem do not rest in the hands of other people, and the people that I trust and love enough to really, really matter will protect and take care of those things the way I take care of those things for them.