I got me some pumpkin spice coffee this morning since I didn’t clean my coffee machine last night because I got home too late. Nothing starts a day better than pumpkin spice coffee… (or anything pumpkin flavored).
In the Bruebager’s Bagels (where I got said coffee), there was a man in his fifties dressed in a Boy Scout uniform. I suspect he was a leader–or whatever they call them in Boy Scouts, den leader or something–but it still looked ridiculous to me. Boy Scout uniforms just don’t have the same effect as, say, a Marine uniform. To me, an older man wearing a Boy Scout uniform is like seeing an elderly woman in a Catholic school girl uniform: it just looks ridiculous. Can’t Boy Scout leaders wear normal clothes with a cool pin or brimmed hat like the highway patrol wears? (Not that highway patrol hats are all that classy, but at least they carry some amount of respect.)
I’m feeling a general lack of self-confidence. I’m in the middle of one of my “I am a horrible person who has diarrhea of the mouth and no one likes me” moods. Which may be due, in a large part, to my writing on this blog. I think I have all these “brilliant” ideas about life and I’ve worked them all out in my head, some of them quite radical, all of them very loud. And then I expect, somewhere in the back of my ego, for everyone to nod and say, “Damn, Mars Girl, you’re so right!” I expect that my words can touch the hearts of staunch conservatives and change them (especially as is the case with my beloved entry about Gene Robinson to which no one replied, which, of course, denoted that the topic was too hot and probably most of my audience had some problem with me talking about a gay preacher… I worked so hard on that entry to get all the wording right and explain my point of view, and I guess I expected one comment somewhere… but all I heard were crickets making me realize that you still can’t sway people from their convictions even if you have a well-thought out argument.)
Some of my friends comment to me in person that I want to draw and quarter conservatives, Republicans, and Christians. I become hurt and take offense, and then they withdraw their statement as a joke. But I’m not so sure it’s a joke. I’ve made an ass out of myself with expressing my opinion and maybe I should just stick to safe topics like my spirituality (minus negative commentary on other faiths) and widowhood and cycling. Maybe I shouldn’t be so loud. The world doesn’t like people who feel strongly one way or another on certain issues. Maybe I could just try to blend in and be neutral so that I’m more people-friendly to the world.
Some people like how opinionated I am, though; others wish I’d be a little quieter. I don’t know. I don’t want to be a blow-hard like Bill O’Reilly. I want to sounds intelligent about my views (even though I know I don’t always manage to do so). I know I’m probably just like all the liberals most conservatives hate. I can’t help the way I am. I can help about how loud I am about it, though.
I know, I know. I can’t have everyone liking me all the time. It’s just like my dad always said, “You can please some of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time.” Some part of me still wants to please all of the people all of the time, which I know will be a weakness of mine in any leadership role I take on because there will always be those two or three people who will complain about anything I do. I can’t get all bent out of shape about these things. I can’t let it bother me the way I do.
My lack of self-confidence streak has started to seep into other activities of mine. My Tuesday night ride (by myself) was utterly pathetic. I was so consumed with fear the entire time I rode. Going uphill, I feared I would go too slow and that I wouldn’t be able to get my feet clipped out in time so that I would fall (which, in itself, is a stupid fear because a low speed fall doesn’t do much damage but bruising and is more embarrassing than it is painful). Going downhill, I kept getting mental images of colliding into a deer that stepped into the road, not having enough time to stop. I was constantly pulling my feet out of my pedals, something I’d reduced significantly over the past few months.
Last night, while riding stoker on the tandem, I was constantly experiencing heart palpitations on hills I normally would have enjoyed sailing down (a few weeks ago Michael and I hit 50 going down Highland Road and, while I got a little scared, I was mostly fine). Maybe it was the darkness and, again, the visions of running into deer that got me. I tried to remind myself that I probably wouldn’t feel a high speed hit–I’d just wake up somewhere later. Of course, this did nothing to relieve my fears because I imagined waking up in a hospital, paralyzed, which is my worst nightmare. I would want to die if I were paraplegic or quadriplegic.
Maybe the fears are brought about from recent email correspondence with a good friend who had a horrible motorcycle accident from which she’s slowly and painfully recovering. It seems to have put huge barriers in her life now and I’m freaked out about high speed accidents (even though part of me still wants to also ride a motorcycle).
I’ve never been a person to let my fears keep me from doing the things I want to do or love. So I don’t know what’s come over me suddenly, why I’ve becoming such a Nervous Nelly. It’s very disconcerting and it makes feel less confident about myself in all aspects of my life. I don’t know why I’m in this low place right now…
Anyway, excuse my annoying rambling of doubt here. I’m not asking for anyone to pity me or try to make me feel better with compliments. I’m just writing it like it is and that’s how the general mood is today. I apologize for being so rough around the edges and offensive. I just feel very passionate about everything, as my blog byline reads.