The One-Eyed Man Is King


Five hundred words.  Not a problem. Not on N7Day – which I am currently celebrating while listening to the 2+ hour youtube compilation of the Kaidan/Femshep romance

I tell you this because I have spent some portion of the day reading Brene Brown and thinking a bit about ownership of my story and how I make things so much harder for myself because I like to have things both ways and pretend things are not as fully, as completely, as total as they often are.  I get a little bit ashamed of the truly truths when I write them or say them out loud.  It’s kept me out of conversations I would have loved to have been in because I didn’t want to be seen as geeky as I am by certain crowds and

The things she writes about…how you can’t have a fulfilling life if you’re not authentically living and being in the world.  It’s so simple, but when you think about how shifting into that world of self-acceptance and truth-telling and not gussying up your day to day so that you become pre-digested and homogenized for anyone who might be reading the blurb on the back of your book and deciding whether or not you’re worthy of the thirty seconds of time allotted for the both of you to communicate before parting, THAT is scary.  That is something I don’t even think about how scary that is…for me to be me without analyzing you first and seeing what version with what tweaks is going to make everyone okay.

Because me is a lot of really random things, excessive, wanton, weirdo things.  And some days of the month the Communists march about in my square.  And I’ll eat a cupcake because I feel embarrassed about leaving it or throwing it out because someone paid good money for these apology cupcakes and the sugar will make me even more moody and stupid that I’ll think I can solve it by eating more and then I will eat something I habitually eat and feel gross and breathless again and stress and drink and make big promises to never be that way again, and then I’ll realize the unlikelihood of never doing anything again except perhaps address my foibles sanely and the cycle will begin anew.  I am ashamed that I do not exist with greater control over these things, but I get some kick out of surviving myself that I am not so ashamed of, maybe even proud that all of these problems and things I do poorly have yet to destroy me.  I’m a goddamned shame cockroach.

And I am a full-on, complete and total fangirl for Mass Effect.  For a hundred thousand things, but surely for that and I think that romance is really lovely and has a complexity that is often ignored.  Not that there’s anything wrong with adoring Garrus or Liara or any of the other options, I just feel really soothed and satisfied by a good Kaidan romance.   So off to France with Napoleon, my coloring books, and that whispery voice in my ear.

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