I don't mean Potential as in blowing more boys, drinking more Peroni, or consuming more cigarettes, because to be quite frank with you Internet I think I do quite well in my potential as a twentysomething slut.
I mean Potential to do stuff. Big stuff. Awesome stuff. The stuff that changes lives. Maybe not your life, but mine. I'm like, waaaaaay self-obsessed that way. Oh, your car is on fire and your collection of invaluable WWII memorabilia, Lady Gaga's stage costumes, and the last can of Dr Pepper in Rome is in there? And only I can help? Sure. No problem. But first, how's my hair?
One reviewer of this blog once said,
Laura Jane Williams is not really who she appears to be at first. She appears to be putting her worst foot forward on purpose. Like a little sort of performance art.and do you know what? That's kinda how I live my life. And for a long time, I've laughed about it. But then I was told, via the very wise quote generator known as Google, that "It's not who you are that holds you back, it's who you think you are not." By thinking of myself as crazy, ill-equipped, spontaneous and vagina-led I tend to embrace life- nay, grab it by the very crux of its bollocks!- and have a really good time. I'm proud of myself because I do what so few people do, and that is live my life instead of merely enduring it. I'm looking at you, Liz Jones.
If I continue to think of myself as somebody who doesn't plan, somebody who makes hilarious mistake after hilarious mistake; the girl who goes straight from the walk of shame to the kid's classroom, or the chubby one whose thighs will forever chafe when she jogs, then I will never be who I know I am because I won't ever think of myself as not that way. Case in point: I'm not even sure that sentence makes sense, but I don't expect you to think of me as bright and intelligent and capable so it won't surprise any of us if it doesn't. HELLO? Self-sabotage much? How exhausting.
Anyway, my point is totally that I'm majorly excited about 2012 because it's the year I get my shit together and embrace that I don't have plan, and I live my life from one adventure to the next, and that's okay because the plan is to *not* have a plan. You know?
Over Christmas Dad sat me down for A Chat and was all, "How's everything then?" and I was all, "Yup. Great." And he was like, "Uh-huh, but really? Even the job?" and I replied all yawning and looking at my watch, "Even the job." "Anybody special?" he asked, to which I replied, "A bunch of nobody specials," and Dad was all, "You don't want to talk to me, do you?" and I was just like, "Do you know what? Ain't nowt to tell, mate. I'm dead happy, so I don't really wanna tear that happiness to bits examining it with you just so we have something to talk about." He looked hurt for a hot second, but then totes got what I meant. I think what I mean was, just let me feel it. Please.
So in 2012 I will continue to have a great time and read new books and learn new languages and meet new best friends and see the world and make mistakes and sometimes be sad, but then know things about the insides of my head a bit more. But it isn't an accident, Internet. I'm doing it on purpose. It's the only way I know how to be myself, and be better at being me.
I'll just keep saying it. Potential.