It’s funny how sometimes you can feel so much, yet feel so little all at the same time. Lots of thoughts are swirling through my head, most of which I wouldn’t dare share here for all the world to see. And then I think, why blog if I’m not going to show the real me? But then I realize how off-track this blog’s gotten from my initial, lofty intentions (i.e., having writing samples to cite when applying for jobs). And then I throw my hands up and cite someone who’s a much better writer than me to get my point across. Enter Paul Laurence Dunbar and his 1896 poem “We Wear the Mask,” which I studied last semester:
We Wear the Mask
WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
I guess what I’m trying to say–and Dunbar really does say it above much better than I ever could–is that I’m so happy these days and I feel so incredibly blessed, but there’s alot of things I need to get right. If anyone’s read this far, then here’s the dirty little secret that can be your reward for the blog patronage: I drink. And since I started in February of last year, I’ve gained over 20 lbs. I told my mom if that’s God’s way of getting me to stop, it’s going to work (I’d ordinarily laugh here, but I’m actually being pretty serious). But it’s not the drinking that concerns me; it’s why I feel the need to drink, especially knowing my lack of all things concerning moderation. I blame it on the stress from working full-time and being in school almost-full-time, but then I realize that I survived 29 years without drinking, so why should it seem so hard to do now?
I’m going to stop here and just say that I’m thankful everyday that God convicts me of this. I’d hate to think how different things would be if the weight gain hadn’t presented itself as the manifestation of the overindulgence. Quite honestly, I’m way too vain to buy roomier clothes, and it’s getting really old to not be able to button some of the shorts and pants that I can still fit into! So something’s gotta give, and I felt like if I put it in writing here, perhaps getting the cat outta the bag would get me back on the right-er track. I’m purposely not going to link this blog anywhere else, so whomever reads it can read it, and that’ll be that.