Happy Pride, I'm Embarrassed to be Known!

I hate the way I talk, and that’s twofold.

I have a strong dislike for my physical voice and a stronger dislike for the words I choose. I wish I could speak more clearly and write less flowery, but I’ve tried and I’ve realized I can’t. For better or for worse, this is how I express myself. and I can’t help but think previous efforts to tamp down the way I construct sentences, especially when writing, feels like a denial of the person I am. I seem to have a real issue letting it ride, and by “it” I mean the way I come across to other people. It’s a weird kind of loop where I feel like people who engage with anything about me (me me me me me, god) are going to think I’m putting on a show and think I think I’m smart, so I end up actually performing more and self producing by restructuring all my paragraphs to be an even balance of prescient cultural references and casual, definitely not overthought insights that if you squint, could almost be mistaken as effortless.

This of course is a colossal failure. I have never in my life experienced effortlessness and everyone knows it.

Effort has been seeping out of my pores since middle school when I was very unaffectionately called a tryhard by multiple people. As a teenager, I had a superiority complex about it. As a fully grown adult, I realize that was coming from a place of jealousy. I’d love to have things come as easily to me as it seems to come to some of my peers. I’d love to not lay myself bare every day, compulsively announcing to everyone what I want out of life and exactly how hard I’m willing to work to get it.

Ew! Gross! I hate this bootstrapper!

Yeah, fair enough. I don’t know how much I like him either but I’m trying not to worry about it so much.

I wish everyone could know that I don’t share because I think it’s so important, I share because of the human desire to be known. And for me, my human condition is I will try and try again and am not capable of being nonchalant, no matter how in it is. Basically, I have come to a necessity based conclusion that I actually probably do think about myself an average amount (despite my years of worrying I’m somehow a medical marvel: the world’s first raging narcissist with no sense of self esteem!) but it’s just all on the surface, the pipe between my brain and my mouth at times embarrassingly short. Sure maybe my brand of sincerity and yes, being a little overserious, isn’t for everyone, but I have a sneaking suspicion most of my friends and loved ones would’ve said something by now if they really really can’t stand it.

I’m going to keep telling myself that at least - please no one burst my bubble.

I’m the “you guys” in question. I, like you, can also be the person I am though, and isn’t that kind of neat?

• This series of short personal essays that overwhelmingly retread the same themes (my substack) will never be as fun and cunty as Coco’s custom blog, and that’s ok - I’m just happy and proud to be a reader (of the blog, not my own substack, that’s a bridge too far even for me).

• I have read about 14 different people’s tarot this year in an effort to do it with as many different folks as possible, step right up and let me know if you’d like to join the cohort!

• I was originally going to write something about the state of transness this pride, but frankly that’s not my calling in these particular 4 weeks of time and that’s alright.

• Me and Maeve’s friend Maeve (put that in your pipe and smoke it) are currently reading Sacred Thought: Mi’kmaq Meditations for our Times by Elder George Paul for a philosophy book club we’re attending in August - I’ve been really enjoying plugging in more to the east end of Toronto specifically, I’ve lived in the city for 7 years now in various neighbourhoods but my current feels the most like home.

I love you so much, whether you’re a tryhard like me or more mysterious than I’ll ever be.

Happy June.