Thoughts on myself

Remember how blogging is inherently narcissistic? Well, I will now lean into that. I found this self-analysis, written by my 16 year old self back in December 2003-- and it's freakishly accurate 6 years later, according to aaron.

"I am: Pensive. Kind. Cynical.

Thoughtful. Humorous.

Shy. Clever. Calm. Private.

Mature. Creative. Empathetic. 

Passive. Critical. Sentimental. 

Gentle. Independent.

I am not: 

Outgoing. Talkative. Affectionate.

Trusting. Insincere. Demanding. 

Assertive. Brave. Competitive. 

Cheerful. Organized. Naive. 

Argumentative. Excitable."

I really like digging through my old blogs (and when i log in, i discover all the private posts that i never published) and laughing.. Mostly, because i sounded so similar to the way i do now. It's amazing how much who i am as a person has not changed, ever. One of my earliest memories is being 3 years old sitting in a grocery carriage. My mom walked down the aisle to grab something, and a person walked up to me, leaned their face close to mine, and said something like, 'look how cute you are, what's your name little girl?" I covered my face with my hands and twisted away, upset that this strange person was talking to me, and, where was my mom?

Such remained my personality for many years; to this day i'd prefer not to talk to random strangers. If someone on the bus or airplane were to attempt some friendly conversation, they just might receive a death stare. I would be tempted to say, "i'm sorry you forgot to bring a book to occupy yourself, but I didn't forget, so leave me be so i can read in peace." Except, the thing is i'm still kind and I know deep down I would love them after 5 minutes of conversing, so i would never say that. But I just don’t wish to converse.

I secretly love people a lot, shocking as that may seem. Nothing makes me happier than seeing other people reaching out to someone who looks sad or lonely. Last week on the bus a man boarded in his wheelchair. I noticed he couldn't move his fingers. At a bumpy part in the road, he dropped his glasses and they slid across the floor. A woman got up from her seat, put them back on his face, and sat next to him for the duration of the ride, chatting and helping him as necessary. "Happy Holidays to you!" she sang as she departed. That made my whole day. 

Another time on the bus, I noticed a woman board and in her hand she carried a large, silver 'happy birthday!' balloon. She sat by herself, the balloon string clutched tightly in her hands. She had that look of loneliness, it's a look i can't explain but i see it a lot and it makes me want to cry. I wondered who at work had known it was her birthday, who had brought that balloon in to her. I wondered if it was a tradition in her department, where everyone got balloons on their birthday. Or if someone had singled her out, made an extra effort to celebrate. As i sat there noticing her out of the corner of my eye, a part of me wanted to fold the page over in my book, and go chat with her- ask her about the balloon. (That's what my dad would do.) 

But I'm not like my dad in that way. Instead, i remained where i sat and did what i do.

Will that aspect of myself ever change? Maybe, if i tried really hard. My reticence is deeply ingrained. As of now, i'm ok with it; I am who I am.

 

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Speaking of old blogs, i found this post my little brother Matt wrote back in 2004. He had hacked onto my xanga site and written a fake post pretending to be me. It was too hilarious so instead of getting mad, i just made it private. Five years later it is still funny to me. And for the record, I hated math, studying, and 'personal progress'.

"I am a, how do you say, a geek. My hobbies include reading 1,000 page books and studying math in a corner while everybody else is out on dates. I don't have many friends, but I do hang out with my little brothers sometimes if my doctor orders me to. My skin complexion is very pale because I spend so much time inside studying. Some call it unhealthy, but I call it dedication! Some of my other hobbies include making bread, sewing, going to church, working on my personal progress for young women's, seminary, and watching G-rated movies. You may think that just because I spend so much time studying that I dont have time for the opposite sex, but I have been "romantically involved" with the seminary president! To add variety, I had a brief fling with a non-Mormon.  It was wicked and vile, but very exciting. It taught me the evils of necking and petting. I was born to a couple of ex-sinners, now converts to the word of God, who raised me very well. They taught me that sticks and stones may break your bones, but names will never hurt you. This was probably the most important piece of advice I have ever recieved on account of the tauntings I received for not fitting in with the wicked and adulterous students of my school." - Jennifer L. LaRose Matthew E. LaRose

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To conclude: Some photos from the great era of high school. (Thanks to webshots)

graduation...a devious little brother of mine

2004...me and my 3 best high school friends

Us children with sweet Tootsie, RIP

10th grade bio: Mrs. Thatcher and the "Brain Trust".  She willingly held up this sign despite our mediocrity. 

One of my favorite all-time photos: Bones's funeral gathering (Bones was the giant green talking macaw)

end of 10th grade Don pablos celebration with some favorite people

prom...i loved my dress. (i wore that same necklace when i got married)

The...End