Diving In...

I've always considered myself reasonably intelligent, and not just for a female either. By the way, in no way is that to be construed as an admittance of male intelligence superiority or any other sort, but that said, I AM NOT A FEMINIST. Frankly feminists annoy the hell out of me. Believe me that's a whole 'nother post and will definitely hit this page eventually, likely sooner than later.

Now back to the issue at hand. About reasonable intelligence. Seems a pretty simple, straight forward phrase, no? Reasonable, as in not beyond expectation, desire or out of reach, and intelligence, something we as humans are supposed to possess. The ability to reason... reason...reasonable... hmmm...

Not so much, y'know? I look around my life and see every sort of intelligence, from the complete and utter lack to that coloured by age, or maturity or at the hands of that age old teacher, experience. Even the brand shiney new sort that sets your teeth on edge, because they think they know -everything-. I think mine is reasonable. I've screwed up, sometimes even more than once in the same way but for the most part I learn from my mistakes. Sometimes. Eventually. Hmms and considers that for a moment... Let's just say that I'm becoming more and more aware of the fact that Karma has a sense of humour.

So about this reasonable intelligence thing; I think that despite some rather startling incidences of evidence to the contrary, I'm reasonably intelligent. I can reason. I can even do it, without blurring the lines with emotion. Sometimes I choose not to and appear quite, hippy-esque, ala rose colored glasses and love beads, but often that's a conscious choice on my part not a lack of ability to do so. I prefer the world I expect and anticipate to the one that I actually live in, but it does not blind me to the fact that the later is reality. So I let the parts that have to be real be so, and revamp the rest in my mind to suit myself.

I recognize that I can't control others, no matter how hard I wish for the ability to do so. All I can be is who I am. Only...

That's not always something easily defined. Who I am, I mean. On the surface, it's pretty easy to define myself by who I am to others, I'm a Mom, friend, spouse, lover, confidant, whipping boy, sound board, evil letter writer (long story), buddy, chum, playmate... and the list goes on and on. But who am I? Who am -I-? Who is inside me, and do they want to come out? Do they like being anonymous, or would they rather splash themselves all over the scenery and never be anonymous again.

Maybe not, but maybe...just sometimes... that'd be okay, y'know, just not on a permanent type basis.