Other than the mattress propped up against the wall, my bedroom is empty. My bathroom is shocking white, not a lick of bright orange anywhere. There is no evidence of me.
Three and a half years ago. Wow. I can't believe its been that long.
Three and a half years ago I slid a few boxes into Georges trunk. With my iMac on my passengers seat I set off. The empty house held possibilities. Look, another cabinet! What should I put in here? This will be the official cookbook cabinet!
I've never got used to the silence of living alone. Sure, it was only a handful of months before my roommate moved in, but that is still...over a hundred quiet evenings. (thats my math skills at work, folks.)
I have relied on the internet to keep me connected to everyone while living away from them. Unfortunately it hasn't kept me connected enough with the ones I really wanted to be (apparently my nieces Abby, Brooklyn, and Alexa all need a Facebook) but very connected with people I haven't seen since they sat behind me in that literature class I took eight years ago.
I'm coming back a different person than who left. I've changed in the last 3 years. Not my personality, per se... I have a sort of confidence nowadays that I never had before.
I somehow always felt trapped in the perception of me. I felt that to others I was A, B, and C; therefore I didn't vary from what made me A, B, and C.
I still struggle with it a bit, but I'm mindful of it.
I have felt like a fake every time I've dressed up. To me I am the dork in too-short jeans and a tshirt emblazed with a logo of one of my dads brands, and I am fooling everyone into thinking I can pull off this empire-waist dress, knee-high boots, layered necklaces, amazing hoop earrings, and hair that is print-ad shiny.
I don't have to feel like a fake, and I know that.
I know that I like both. I am both. I am the dork who at this very minute is wearing Nintendo pajama pants and a Mario shirt that proclaims Power Up! I know that I fell asleep watching The Empire Strikes Back at 3 a.m. I know that I can't walk by an Apple store without letting out a small whine (I suffer from lack-o-mula) But I also know I am as girly girl as possible. If its hot pink I want it. I know I have the knowledge and attitude to pull of a completely glammed out outfit, if I want. I can apply makeup like its out of a magazine. I can do things to hair (mine or otherwise) that are amazing.
I can, and do, rock a glammed out look with layered accessories and shiny hair. I also sport a Ghostbusters shirt with jeans and a slept-in ponytail.
That is who I am. And I'm okay with that now.