I think I need to watch The Runaway Bride again soon. Not for the romance or whatever. I hate that type of movie. It’s very boring for me.

No. I think I need to watch the story of a woman who changes herself for everyone around her, over and over. A woman who lets people order her food and choose what she wears. A woman who lives like a blank slate, washing her traits clean and becoming someone new again and again. Until the day she stops.

For me, that movie is about two scenes: the one in which someone can’t believe she doesn’t even know what type of eggs she likes; and the one in which she is surrounded by dozens of plates of eggs. Three scenes, if you count her running up to the other person, shouting out which type she likes most.

She is a chameleon woman, challenged to find her true colors and brace enough to do so. It doesn’t matter if someone wants her to eat, dress, talk, or act a certain way; she chooses to find and live as herself. That is what matters.


And that is what I need to do. Find myself. Be myself. Without playing up similarities or claiming ancient traits. No. I am me. This is what I want. This is what I do. This is what makes me laugh. This music makes me dance. These songs make me sing. This beauty makes me cry.



Game Therapy: Dragon Age 2- Unpacking Part 4

Here is another shot from foxybcosplay, and you can see other images from this photo shoot and more of Brooke’s work on her deviant art page.

I’ve been thinking about what I said before about Anders, and how I keep choosing to romance him even though I know that betrayal is coming. Why do I do that? What does it say about me? 

The strangest thing to me is that I just feel peace over it all, like there is nothing wrong with walking into pain over and over again. Like giving someone special the chance to hurt me so many times is fine. Maybe it is. After all, what does this really reveal about me?

I think that I’ve really grown as a person. I used to shut people out when they hurt me. Sometimes, that would even be the end of our relationship entirely. (Hurt me once and you will never touch me again.) It was very effective for protecting myself, to be sure. The problem is that no human can live forever without hurting someone, even if they love that person.

Instead, today, I am able to look at my husband and say “He is going to hurt me some day. Sometimes, it will be small and only scratch my pride. Sometimes, he will do or say things that reach into my core and crush a part of me. I know that. And I’m going to let him, because I know that I’m no better equipped to hold his heart than he is to hold mine. I will hurt him too. Sometimes, it will be minor and sometimes, it will feel life threatening. He knows that too, but he’s still giving me that chance.”

Love involves risks, being brave enough to let someone get close to you. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean that Hawke and Anders have a healthy relationship by default, but they spend 9 years of their lives together before everything gets to the explosion point. I’m not sure when Anders becomes consumed by anger and despair- I suppose it’s probably around or after year 6. By that point, it’s easy for me to understand why Hawke stays with him, but things do get messy after that. 

I like to think that those uncomfortable quests (the ones where he flat out lies to you) are signs of Hawke’s trust and desire to see Anders restored to his original state. The results of these quests says more about Anders/Vengeance than it does about Hawke. The only bad thing it says about her is that she sees what she wants to be true, rather than seeing things as they are. She needs to believe that Anders can be saved, that the demon can be removed, but she can live the rest of her life with him. Everyone around her can see that Anders is slipping further and further out out of reach, but she won’t listen to any of them.

I don’t think that I have this problem, honestly. As a pessimist/realist, I don’t often become trapped in unrealistic expectations for outcomes. I have more trouble believing that things are going to be earthshakingly fabulous than believing that they will be difficult. In addition, I’m not interested in changing my husband or my friends. I want to support them if they decide that they need to change part of themselves, but people are people, not projects.

So, whether I should or not, I feel pretty calm about my approach to love. That’s good enough for me.


It’s a little funny- the sad kind, not the ironic or pleasurable kinds- but I am actually going through life changes and hiding them from you. You, my blog with one follower. (P.S.- Thank you, Problems with Infinity. It’s good not to feel alone out here.) You, my blog that I am writing with the explicit purpose of processing baggage in a public setting, so that hopefully, I’ll be diligent in continuing and maybe someone out there will benefit from it.

It’s ridiculous. And understandable.

What I paint is personal and if I don’t tell anyone, then maybe it isn’t real. Because if I don’t have to select the words or hear my own voice, then maybe it’s just thoughts in my idle moments, not signs of something larger.

So I hide it. But the thing is: this blog is bathed in obscurity and totally anonymous. No one will know it’s me unless I send them the address or physically show them the painting. So, in theory, I could post it up here and explain it, but STILL have it be hidden just the same.

Except that the Internet is a cruel place that follows a simple rule: don’t post it unless you want to take the heat. Content creators are shredded. Cosplayers are insulted. Musicians mocked and writers ridiculed. It’s like we are all a bunch of jerks- have always been a bunch of jerks- and today is our day to shine through anonymous trolling.

It’s scary.

It reminds me of elementary school, when my coat had a vest attached to it and everyone called it a life jacket and asked me about my fear of floods. One difference between us, one divergence from the norm, and I was fair game. So is it the same?

Are we all so insecure, so desperate to fit in that we will attack anyone who sticks out (because we hope that doing so will reinforce how well we fit in)? Is that it? Are we all just scared?

Terrified that no one likes us?

Terrified that we are less than we want to be?

Maybe. But if it’s true, it doesn’t really help me to know if I should hide myself or just thrive in spite of the sad small people. After all, cruel words really do hurt, no matter who says them.


As part of my general cleaning/decluttering work, I’ve come across my old school awards. When I got them, they were really important, you know? I was so proud- I had worked hard and someone was acknowledging my efforts with a tangible item! Even better, I was a kid before they started rewarding everyone, so I was really being called out as a high performer. It meant something.

I lived for that validation, for that praise. My whole worth as a person was riding on my ability to perform well. I NEEDED to be recognized. I needed to succeed. I needed my goals to be meaningful. These little plaques were part of the proof that I was worth while- that I should even exist.

I wonder if that sounds crazy. To be so desperate for something so small, but I think it’s pretty common. Is there anyone  who doesn’t seek something small to make them feel better- kind words from a specific person, a particular possession, a full social life, or something else? Don’t we all turn outside of ourselves to find meaning or value?

So, what do I do with them now? Ribbons and plaques that testify to my success? Are they really any different from my diploma or my bachelor’s degree? Those don’t affect my daily life either. Are my childhood award worth less simply because there’s not a recognized standard? Is being the lead actress in a local play insignificant simply because it isn’t Broadway?

Do small things matter?

Do normal people doing normal things matter?
Or are we fooling ourselves just to feel better?