31 May, 2010

song of myself

I don't think I have self-esteem issues.  I know I'm not-so-great at certain things, and I know I'm not the most beautiful thing on the planet, but I don't think that's wrong. I'd rather be a little less-sure of myself than puffed-up for no reason.
But right now, in an unabashed act of narcissism, I am going to write down some things that I like about myself.  Because I just turned twenty, and I want to remember.

I like:
Having a sense of humor.  I'd be sorry if I couldn't laugh uncontrollably with friends.  I sometimes wish I could be the silent type, but mostly I'm glad.
Being a lover of beauty.  I feel alive when a good line of poetry or a starry sky hurts me.
My height (almost five ten) and my big feet.
My bookishness.
This one is tough to say, but - my big, stick-out ears.  I hated them for years, but somehow I've become reconciled.
That my freckles come in pairs.  They all have a friend.
The hippie-ness of my personality.
My totally un-cool taste in music.
My memory for people and faces (though it leads to unfortunate things sometimes)
Being called an old soul, and being told I should have lived in the sixties.
Also, being told that I ought to have been born in England.
That I'm not afraid to travel or do things by myself.  I'm glad I've been places.
That I know that I am a thing with worth. The value of knowing that almost cannot be over-stated.  And not worth in the make-up, silly way.  The way that counts.  Whatever else I may be, I have worth.  I have a point. And, without that, what would be the use of anything?

Happy birthday, Kelsey.  These are the good years, remember?

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