Lies we tell our daughters

I am struggling with this idea. An idea that I feel is going to be contested, hell, I’m contesting it even as I formulate it. But I can’t fight the feeling that even if I’m wrong, I’m still a little right.

Growing up my parents, family, and siblings (two older brothers) did an exceptional job of giving me a vivacious attitude towards life. I never felt inhibited, I was taught to play tough, be strong, run fast, and never ever do less than my best. This gave me a strong sense of independence and self; I never thought that I was less able to do something than anyone else. I was driven to be the best, no matter who I was competing with. Isn’t that swell? Sure, I mean, I wouldn’t trade that for the world. I love my, at times unnecessarily, independent style. It taught me that if I wanted to achieve I just had to work hard, it taught me that I could be the best at something, that I shouldn’t be afraid, and that I was a fierce competitor.

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My continuing mission, to explore strange new worlds

When people ask me what I want to do with my life, or what I want to do as a career my current supposition is that I want to write. I like to write, I like prose, I don’t know if I am especially good at it, but it is a challenge I enjoy. Stringing together a great sentence, finding a perfect word, explaining perfectly the way you feel or think, its fun. The next question that people in the know ask me is if I am currently writing. Sadly, my response has to be no. But that is lunacy. A writer that doesn’t write can’t be a writer, you’re just a person purporting to write. I may as well call myself a painter.

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