“You don’t know anyone at the party, so you don’t want to go. You don’t like cottage cheese, so you haven’t eaten it in years. This is your choice, of course, but don’t kid yourself: it’s also the flinch.
Your personality is not set in stone. You may think a morning coffee is the most enjoyable thing in the world, but it’s really just a habit. Thirty days without it, and you would be fine. You think you have a soul mate, but in fact you could have had any number of spouses. You would have evolved differently, but been just as happy.
You can change what you want about yourself at any time. You see yourself as someone who can’t write or play an instrument, who gives in to temptation or makes bad decisions, but that’s really not you. It’s not ingrained. It’s not your personality. Your personality is something else, something deeper than just preferences, and these details on the surface, you can change anytime you like.
If it is useful to do so, you must abandon your identity and start again. Sometimes, it’s the only way.
Set fire to your old self. It’s not needed here. It’s too busy shopping, gossiping about others, and watching days go by and asking why you haven’t gotten as far as you’d like. This old self will die and be forgotten by all but family, and replaced by someone who makes a difference.
Your new self is not like that. Your new self is the Great Chicago Fire—overwhelming, overpowering, and destroying everything that isn’t necessary.
“Hungry. Stomach screaming hungry, I worry about the conversation we haven’t had yet. You know, this one. I will order pudding after dinner and chew and swallow without tasting anything much. You… you will chain-smoke and drink three different beers and we will talk out how to make the best of things despite the year and it’s shitty weather. We are tired of dressing in layers just in case and leaving wet umbrellas in other people’s houses. Who can live like that? On the day, your voice will be too bright and cheerful, the way it always is when you hurt the most. We’re always trying to make everything okay. Fine. Well - and whatever shit we tell our friends instead of awful. Grieving. Barely breathing. Come, let us talk with our closed up throats, crushed hearts and wet eyes. Quickly, because when you get that metallic taste on your tongue and teeth it means trouble and when I get that light feeling in the space between the back of my eyes and my skull it means hell.”—
“But other questions to ask if improving newsroom diversity in order to fairly cover America today and in 2042 is the goal: One, what’s happening with the journalist pipeline? Namely, which students (and their families) can best afford to sustain multiple years of unpaid or poorly paid internships in order to become competitive in the field? And two, what’s the FCC’s role if any in ensuring that newsrooms accurately reflect and cover their communities—particularly those who are underserved?”—Diversity Critics Target New Media Start-Ups [COLORLINES] (via genericlatino)