Here’s Me Being “Vulnerable”

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.”



Screen Shot 2016-02-24 at 1.08.15 PM“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?





“…but you’re having fun.”

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.

Me: …OK!

*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.

The Way I Feel Is Inevitable

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.

How To Fail At Everything

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.

The End

The Struggle Is Real

I’m starting to do that creepy thing again.  No, not where I reach that awkward part of YouTube!  Geeze, that was last week!  I’m talking about stalking old high school peops via LinkedIn.  It rarely crosses my mind to follow up on what others are doing via Facebook.  I’m all obsessed with everyone else’s HASHTAGwhatsyourbigboyjob type of life now.  I think I’m more so obsessed, because I’m trying to find one myself.  You know, that good ‘ol full time job.  I want those benefits, man!

It’s a little sickening at times, because all I begin to do is compare compare compare.  And then things in my life start to become a competition with little Miss So-and-So, when she doesn’t even know who I am, or that we are in a competition, or that there is no real prize for the winner but pride…and possibly a cookie…mayyybe even a little dance party.  It’s so easy for me to justify all the things I have not done or accomplished, by putting down others…and that gets me nowhere but to the music store, where I purchase the tiniest violin, and find someone who knows how to play the violin, so they can play it for me…or maybe I should invest in a music teacher.  It gets a little difficult trying to motivate myself, without any external factors getting in the way.  I want to genuinely do things and accomplish things for myself.  I don’t want to do something, because it’ll make me appear “better” when compared to blank.  I don’t want to be superficial, and it’s a struggle I come across every day.

It’s so easy though, to make those comparisons.  The social media apps are right there at my finger tips.  They ask to be open, and they whisper how I’ll never be good enough.  I don’t want them to control me.  I downloaded them.  I made the conscious decision to make those accounts on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, etc., so don’t tell me what to do!  You don’t own me!  You don’t know who I am!  You don’t know mah lyfe!  (Besides how hard I really try to only post the “good” stuff that will make others perceive my life to be awesome!)

Stalling On My Adulthood

I like school.  A lot.  But I can’t figure out if it’s whether or not I use it as a security to prevent myself from actually facing the realities of life and a career.  After I graduated college, I moved back home.  I no longer had the financial aid to help me pay my month’s rent, or utilities, or water bill (thank you financial aid!).  It was all gone.  Now I have to use my own money, that I make from babysitting, to pay my cell phone bill, car, and insurances.  Being in school, or more specifically, college, was the best!  It gave me my freedom and independence, without having me work so much for it.

I find it embarrassing having to move back home, that I want to move out already.  No one is forcing me to.  My mother is very generous.  She doesn’t even make me pay rent (which I am super grateful for).  But I want to move out for myself.  I want to move out to prove to myself (okay, and my peers) that I am not a dud or dependent.  I know a lot of people move back home after they graduate, but in reality that is what people like me (who have moved back home), tell others (who have moved back home), to make them feel good about themselves.  And do I feel better about myself?  YES!  But only for a hot moment.

I’m proud of myself, because for the past year, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do.  I’ve stuck to babysitting, and holding myself back from really finding a legit career.  People tell me, you don’t have to have it all figured out now, but in a way we do.  Or else, we remain stagnant and continue living at home and being miserable because you can’t host a party, because your mom has work in the morning and your siblings are sleeping because they have school the next day.  Oh, right!  Going back to why I’m proud of myself.  I am proud of myself, because I now have something to work for.  The next step is grad school, and in order to get into grad school I need to study for the GRE (then obviously take them…eventually).  It’s nothing big, but it is to me, because I get to go back to school!  And hopefully be able to move out anytime soon.

(Plus going back to school allows me to delay that dreaded and mundane life called adulthood).

This is my next step.  I now have something I can work towards.  Something I can look forward to.  Who knows if what I’m going to grad school for is something that I truly want to do.  But it’s something.  Who knows if this means I will eventually have it all together, but I’ll know when I get there.  I’m tired of trying so hard as to what it is I want to do.  Let me just do something, and hopefully everything else in my life will fall into place.  I’m done chasing what will make me happy, because that’s what I’ve been attempting to do so far, and it has led me to be miserable.  By being realistic, maybe this is me thinking like an adult, but not fully emerged into acting like one.

Current Mood: Laughter

I like it when I make people laugh.

It makes me feel good knowing I’m responsible for making others feel good.  At the same time, those peoples’ laughter feed into my ego.  I really start to think that I’m actually a funny person (not funny looking, but I’ll give you that one).  But am I really?  Should I try hard to be “funnier” (under the impression that I am, at least, a little funny already).

There are multiple instances when I just don’t see it. For example, on a regular basis people laugh at what I say and I’m just like, “That wasn’t meant to be funny” (but I say that in my head, of course).  By all means, laugh!  Please.  I don’t want to ruin the mood.  Plus, I’m trying to soak up every opportunity I get, whether or not what comes out of my mouth was actually supposed cause laughter.  I myself enjoy laughing, so I don’t want to make it stop.  I especially love laughing because I know the harder I laugh, the closer I am to getting those rock hard abs.

Now I’m really worried…Could it be that I’m not funny at all, and I just so happen to come across people with a really bad sense of humor?  At certain points in my life, when others start laughing at me (or with me? I always forget which one you want to have), I start to think that they’re only laughing because their humor might be off…which makes it appear that my humor might be on…? Omg, this concern is so petty.  I even blabbled about it for so long too.  Is this something that I can consider one of life’s dilemmas?  Am I allowed to have these feelings?  Is this what people mean about having low self-esteem?  I’m starting to lose all confidence in myself.  What is life?  Who am I??

What I’ve Done So Far

IMG_1968This blog has only been up for two days, and I am already experiencing writer’s block.  Not gonna lie, Twitter is my jam!  I never get writer’s block there.  It’s so simple to just type in those one liners (that of course meet the requirements of 140 characters…wait, is it only 140 characters in a tweet?  Brb opening up a tab and double checking Twitter about this…okay, yup! It’s 140 characters) and to press that “tweet” button without hesitation.  There is just so much happening on Twitter that even if you post a tweet and your followers just aren’t really feeling it that day, they can just scroll past it and wait for your next tweet.  Which, in my experience, pretty much will happen approximately 3-5 minutes later.  Twitter is this live feed of events that become easily accessible.  It continues to run, just like our conscience.  But here I feel like I can’t just write, because I find myself thinking waayyyy too hard.

My conscience doesn’t stream, even if I’m just trying to write about my day.  I find it becomes difficult because I have so much freedom.  I don’t have any guidelines or any sort of limitations.  I begin to feel like the pressure is on, even though there isn’t any.  Funny, how when I’m given an open space with the liberty to literally do whatever I want, I’m seriously unable to and I space out.  But at least I’m aware of it.  Woah, at least I am aware that I am aware of it.  Awareness is the first step, and I’ve just become aware of my own awareness.  Would this be considered a mind-blowing moment?

Hmm… well actually, now that I think about it, I tend to encounter such mind-blowing moments on a daily basis (side note: if this occurs regularly, then would they still be considered moments where the mind is blown?).  Now that I have become aware of what the problem is with my writer’s block, I can do something about it.  But to be honest, I always tell myself this.  It’s always been easier for me to notice things, to say what’s up, and to point out every little thing that can be fixed/worked on.  But then I don’t do anything about it.  I’ll just roll with the punches and accept that it is what it is, rather than actually doing something.  I myself already know that “If you hesitate, you don’t get your break.”  See?  I know all this.  But I still find myself not doing anything.  I continue to hold back.  Oh man, I guess me having writer’s block, the fast realization as to why I have writer’s block, and me being left with the choice to do something about it, is a metaphor for something bigger.  A metaphor that reflects how I’ve been living my life.  A life where I know what is wrong, but I don’t do anything.  Whether it be because I am scared and don’t like to take risks, or that I’m afraid of consequences.  Good or Bad.  Eeeyahhhh, maybe I should do something about that.  I am so proud, look how aware of myself I’m becoming!

How did this post start out about writer’s block and then end up reflecting on the way I’ve been living my life?  No idea.  My thoughts tend to be unorganized and all over the place.  One time, my TA on Early Japanese Civilizations commented on my essay final saying, I randomly add pieces of information that contain facts which don’t relate to, or help out, my argument in any way.  Did you know that in Finland you are given a top hat and a sword after you receive your PhD?