Okay, I know my faults. I’m very reflective, and I dwell on my shortcomings. I’m antisocial and struggle to relate to people on non-awkward levels. (Small Talk should be banned worldwide, am I right?) I could go on and on and often do in my mind.
Despite all my horrible attributes which I’m sure plague the universe (Not really. That’s giving myself way too much credit.), I have one saving grace.
If there is one thing I am, it’s SINCERE. To a disastrous degree.
My husband does not understand this. He thinks I’m some mad scientist with experiments that I probably don’t have the brainpower to conceive of or to manipulate.
He is a master manipulator. I swear. He pretends he has a job, but I think he sits up in his evil villain tower and plots. If you’ve never been manipulated by my husband, you don’t understand his stealth. He is tricky. One minute I didn’t want to get married, and then BAM. It was happening.
Which is really more a joke on him. When he decided this relationship was a good idea, he had no idea how far the strange train stretched.
Choo Choo. All aboard!
He doesn’t understand that when I say things, or think things, or feel things, it is ALWAYS sincere.
The problem is that I also tend to flake out when it comes to reality. I hate going places, and doing things. I’m lazy. Not when it comes to writing, because I can do that from the comfort of my couch, but when it comes to everything else.
I’m lazy, awkward, and a social misfit. Do you see how this is all a bad combination?
When I plan things, I really do want to see my best friend from college. When it comes to actually driving to get there…
Oh yeah, did I mention I hate driving? Like seriously have a fear of driving. OH, and also, I hate being in cars in general. This drives my husband insane. I’ve tried to change my habits, but I just can’t.
When he complains, it’s like, dude… I’m stuck on this train. You bought a ticket.
My sympathy dries up as the years and tracks continue.
None of that changes the fact that I’m sincere.
For the record, I did manage to go to lunch recently with my friend from college, Mara, who is currently out traveling the world. So I’m not the worst thing since sliced bread. Not that anyone is insulting bread.
I ventured out into reality. I survived. I thrived. I felt like a real girl, and I’m probably related to Pinocchio.
I wish my husband understood that I’m not a mad scientist, despite all my desires to the contrary. I really am just an average person, struggling through life. I have good intentions, but we all know how easily those get lost.
Maybe when we commit our life to someone, they see all the levels of us, and they can’t quite believe the simplest truths. They relate your words to this case or that thing, and not everything adds up. So they assume it’s all a big cluster.
Which it is, because that’s life. We are a mass of contradictions. I’m working on a post I hope to get out there soon. It’s about embracing contradictions and allowing us to live our lives without judgment.
Whatever your beliefs, whoever you think created the world, don’t you think they had a wicked sense of humor? They had to have. They made people like us.
I’m thankful though. As the days pass and I realize all the horrible things about myself, I also slowly begin to accept. It doesn’t matter that I fear zombies, or that I think an alien invasion is inevitable.
I’m also sincere. I care about people and I care about the world. I want less people to hurt and more people to love. There’s value there.
If you have to shift through all the other junk just to get to there, I’ll help you wade through the garbage. Virtually, because we’ve already discussed that I’m a flake in real life.
This also frustrates my husband because he thinks if I care about people I should be out there with my shovel.
My goals are more to offer comfort from right here.
That’s why I write romance. To make others feel, and love, and hurt, but then to tend their wounds and assure them everything will be okay.
Everything will be okay. I believe that. Sincerely. We can’t let the world take away our sincerity, because then we’ll never get it back.
Keep dancing to your own tune, and enjoy your weekend, or what I like to call THE SLEEP IN REVOLUTION.
Kinley Baker (@kinleybaker)