My little brother found this in my memory box. I guess you can say that I have not changed.
It’s funny how I started a blog where I tell you what’s going on in my life (and basically share the personal thoughts that run through my head, when I’m the type of person who likes to categorize herself as a reserved, passive, and introverted individual). Granted, I have not been keeping up with this project lately, as I have found that a little break to kind of look back and evaluate my life was needed…oh, who am I kidding? I just got lazy and decided not to write. But just as I am awake at 3 am in the morning, something urged me to wake up this page again. I decided to renew my subscription and go back to writing. But this time I want to do it differently.
What goes on in Befriending Murphy is going to be more honest. No more justifying my actions or including disclaimers. No more trying to always sound positive, because hey, I’m actually a realist who sometimes likes to lean more on the half empty side of things, than the half full side of things. Even though it might not be the healthiest way to think, it’s still is a part of me (like even though it might not be the healthiest to complain all the time, but it’s good to vent). I genuinely want to start sharing both the good and the bad stuff. Or share as best as me, Megan, can, as a reserved and insecure human being.
So, as every great journey starts, here’s to Chapter 1: “Hi, my name is Megan. Here’s me being vulnerable.”
“You remind me of my friend, like you could be her twin. You are exactly the same, before she turned girly-girl.”
I like to believe that there is a reason why I don’t fit in this societal construct of what it means to be a girl. Alright, not so much believe as to blame it on the fact that I was not allowed to have a Barbie until I was 13. I mean, I was given Barbies, but I was not allowed to open them and play with them until I was much older. During my primal years of development, I missed out on the physical experience of Barbie playing. Yup! And that is the result of why I am like this today, because I was not allowed to play with Barbies until later in life. Not to say it’s a bad thing, I just like to use it as an excuse for not being a “girly-girl,” as they like to call it. That, and because it still bothers me to this day that once I was allowed to play with Barbies, the rules changed and my younger sisters were allowed to play with them at a much younger age. Yeah, you know what? I think that’s what bothers me most. Not the fact that I missed out on Barbie playing, but the fact that my sisters got to play with Barbies earlier!
That escalated quickly, BUT just because I didn’t get to play with Barbies does not define the way I act and who I am today. What has defined the way I act and who I am today, is the fact that I got the lower end of the stick of the deal. Who isn’t allowed to play with Barbies until they’re 13?
I went out to Downtown recently, and it ended up being a really fun night. Or at least, that’s what my friend told me. Apparently, this is how the night went:
*dancing in a bar*
My friend who came Downtown with me: Megan, we are leaving.
Me: Don’t leave me!
Friend: *places both hands on my shoulders, looks me in the eyes, and says calmly* …but you’re having fun.
*friend leaves, and I’m left dancing Downtown by myself*
In her defense, I am a person who is easily influenced. This is one thing I know quite well about myself. But I’m not sure how to change it, or if I should change it. Because in some ways, it makes me look like I give people the benefit of the doubt. In other ways, it makes me look like a complete idiot, and then I find myself in really uncomfortable situations.
Before the start of my sophomore year of High School, I told myself that this would be my year. The year where I would be more outspoken, and show others that in one summer I had transformed into this confident lady. But the truth was, I just wanted to prove to myself that I could be like everyone else: have an opinion, be heard, get noticed. Because in reality, I did not have anyone to prove this new and glorious self to. If I was not heard or noticed the year before, how could my fellow sophomore class know that my quiet and dry personality had evolved exponentially?
The first step was to participate in class more. However, that did not work out so well. This is because in all of my classes, I had no idea what was going on. Every question that the teacher asked, I had no idea how to answer it. If I did, there was always someone else who would speak up before me and steal my answer! (because mind-readers exist). Or, if I did know the answer, I would end up being wrong. For example, in one of my classes we were playing Jeopardy. A question was stated and I knew the answer! This was it, I would win it for my team and get noticed, be seen. I shot up my hand so hard into the air that my desk fell forward, taking me with it, and I hit the ground with a huge “thud.” Everyone looked at me, waiting for my answer, not caring that I had just flipped over in my desk. I answered the game question, which ended up being wrong. Moral of the story: Don’t participate in class.
Second semester of sophomore year, I decided to tryout for the school’s dance team. The dance team was filled with popular girls and because I made it, I thought I had become one. But I was just seen as the extra dancer in the back. And in the dance team yearbook photo, everyone’s name was printed under the group picture, except mine. I took it personally, but I guess I wasn’t that hurt about it.
As High School continued, so did I. But this time I stopped trying to prove things. Instead, I just went through the motions. Not because I believe you don’t always have to prove something to yourself or others, but because others could sense when you’re trying too hard. It’s like everyone is Spider-Man and has their spidey-senses tingling. High School is a time where everyone wants to fit it, and I was trying so hard to fit in everywhere. I was trying to be like everyone else, and wasn’t getting anywhere. So might as well stay unnoticed, but as me.
A day in my life. Today: Septemeber 15th, 2015.
I woke up.
I went to work.
I was verbally abused by an 8 year old (tried disciplining him, but got “cursed” at in the end (with off brand curse words an 8 year old is “allowed” to use appropriately).
I drove to 4 Starbucks’s after work so I could study…they were all full.
Bought myself a sub sandwich when I shouldn’t have…
I waited in my car at a parking lot before dance class started, and this girl next to me, opens her door, and hits the side of my car. I walk out so she could see me, but she starts smoking weed and drives off. Now I have a scratch on the side of my car.
I recently read an article about things retailers don’t tell you. I’ve worked in retail, so I thought I would know everything on that list. Turns out, there are some things I didn’t know. Okay maybe not some things, just one thing that I did not know. That is that the cameras in the store can recognize your face. Once recognized, it keeps track of how much you purchase in the store, how many times you visit, etc. This got me scared. Honestly, I don’t want people to know my shopping habits. Especially in Sephora.
Sephora is the place where I try to score free samples, err I mean, get samples of things I want to try out. Because seriously, who has the time and money to go out and buy every new thing and try them out, only in the end to possibly return those items because they break you out, or it smells weird, but then you get super lazy to go back to the store to actually return the items, and then they just sit in your bathroom, untouched? It’s like free money you can’t have. However, if I were to be completely honest, I don’t always get samples of things that are new. I usually get samples of things I have tried before and know that I love, because I don’t feel like paying for that whole bottle of face wash for $25.
When I go to Sephora, I have to be strategic. I have to space out my visits, and make sure I ask for samples from workers who don’t remember me, or who have never seen me before. Occasionally I buy the $12 moisturizer (which is amazing and THAT is totally worth my money!) so that no one gets suspicious. But no matter how sneaky I think I’m being, after reading that article about the cameras, I am positive everyone in that store (and at both locations) knows who I am. I bet they have a picture of my face in their break room that reads, “Watch out for the free sampler girl. Contact your MOD if you see her.” So whenever I walk into a Sephora and the workers smile at me and say “hello,” I don’t know if it’s because they have good customer service skills, or they’re simply letting me know that they know who I am, that they know what my intentions are, and that they’ve got their eyes on me.
Just a little update on where I’ve been, other than stressing over the fact that I’m trying to find myself a full time job, because I want those benefits, man! Recently I blogged about leaving an interview unsatisfied with my performance. Turns out, I was overthinking it, because I got the part time job!! I’m totally stoked, and after after the fact, I now see that I had nothing to worry about. Talk about an ego boost. But now I’m overthinking the way I’m thinking.
Is it bad that I’m telling myself “see, you had nothing to worry about,” because I got the job, when in that moment when I left the interview, I was totally beating myself down? I know it seems like I’ll never be happy, but I want to be there for myself. I want to be there not only when something good happens, but also when something bad happens. I want to make sure that I can tell myself “you have nothing to worry about,” or “everything is going to be okay,” even when I feel (or it seems) like it’s not going to be, and believe it. Overthinking things can be good or bad. It’s there so I can be dramatic about my life, and practice “the struggle” for when I get my own reality TV show. But honestly, I hope that one day, with my ability to overthink things, I can keep up the confidence in myself to be successful in anything I do.
I went to an interview at the beginning of the week, and of course they ask me a question where my answer left me uneasy and unsatisfied. They asked “What is one thing you know more about than anyone else?” Of course my answer was lame (and I do not wish to repeat it, because I am so embarrassed).
A week later, I’m still thinking about that question, and NOW I have an answer that showcases my interests and who I am. It is the most perfect and truest answer: “I know a lot about at-home facials and how to create a skincare routine, than anyone else.” BAM! That would’ve made me stand out, and be unforgettable. Now I AM, forgettable, and I just blend in with everyone else.