Step 1. Accepting

This is the part of the day/evening where my inner child comes out to play. That 3 foot midget is cooped up inside my large intestines for far too long during daylight savings times. Its been a long hard day at the office (Ok so maybe it wasn't that long and maybe it wasn't even that difficult & to be quite honest I don't nor will i ever have an office, but damn it I sure had my own moments of bitter frustration on this fine March day). I sit here on a children's playground in a park in Fullerton, CA. I sit here because its the best place for me to sit and breather and smile. I sit here because its my escape. I sit here because nobody bothers me when I play here (I'm not gonna lie that could be simply because other parents fear that I will kidnap their children, which to my defense has not happened anymore since Billy at Sylvan park...kids are more fun to play dodgeball with than adults I know) Its the place that I call my own. I have always been young at heart, but wise in mind and body. Its my spirit that keeps me on the go. I play on slides, I pretend I am a dinosaur and I finger-paint. I'm also 19 years old. Don't judge. I think its safe to say that I am a rather unique young individual. I don't care what pop songs sing to you or what Rousseau and Plato (some of our greatest philosophical writers) have written about for centuries I am unique damn it. After all, its what I pride myself on. I'm not exceptionally excellent at anything in particular. I don't have any special skills and to be quite completely honest I'm really not that jaw dropping. In the sense of first glances I actually seem to be quite normal. BUT give me about 3.2 seconds to open my mouth, think a thought or move a finger and it becomes clearly evident that there is something strange about this body that writes before you. I can't explain it to you. I can try but at the end of the list you may find yourself cringing and looking for the red x at the top of this blog window, you may not even want to be my friend. I shall give it a go nonetheless:

I'm pushy. I'm an ugly stain on a plain white T. I live vicariously through other's acts of love and happiness. I stare. I poop (what?! Girls don't poop!). I drink way too much tea. I yell at my mother. I love my mother with every thread of my being. Contrary to popular belief I do stand for what I believe in. I'm stubborn. I'm socially awkward beyond belief. I enjoy smelling my own farts. I pick my nose. I'm overly obsessed with pleasing people. I'm overly obsessed with becoming the next Ellen Degeneres. I'm in extreme like with George Clooney. I'm borderline pathetic which some may know as a "doormat". I try too hard. I laugh extremely loud. I am confident. I am determined. They use my nose to cover Connecticut when it rains. I cannot pick a FAVORITE color. I enjoy sniffing kitty cats. I leap without looking. I say irreversibly stupid things. I have been kissed by a whopping 2 people in my life. I'm afraid to put my everything into believing in God. I fear the unknown. I find an incomparable love for elderly people. I smile too often. I have a happiness disease. Some would say that its a good thing. I have a way with people. Apparently I can make anyone have a better day. My remedy is sidewalk chalk. I am afraid to be loved. I almost believe its impossible. I'm passionate. I aspire to be a professional circus performer. Too often I live in a dream, rather than manifest my own reality. I am nothing. I am something. I love him. I have finally forgiven my father. i want a pony. I ride a unicycle. I fly on a trapeze. I spin on spanish webs. I live to perform. I write films and stand-up comedy acts in my journal. I sing on my bike. I kiss too much. Although I may seem outlandish and overbearing with loves and hugs I couldn't be more frightened of the damn things. I secretly wish I was 2 inches taller. I wish he understood. I want a peanut putter and jelly sandwich. I cook because it means that I have created something. I fear that he will never understand, nor wish to. I cry. I wish I could love more. I wish I could give more. I want to help everyone. I enjoy being right. I smell funny. I have a bunion on my left foot's big toe. I have a concave sternum. I have clammy hands. I hate shrimp. I can't digest cheese. I text more than I should. I pride myself on being the creator of a room exploding in laughter. I love. I live. I'm kind. I'm compassionate. I feel amazing, but more than anything I'm happy. Im happy beyond measure. Its inconceivable. I wouldn't change it for the world.

Maybe it isn't so bad after all, but as the list goes on you'll come to realize that I am a rather different form, but at the end of the day I know who I am and what I stand for & for that ladies and gentlemen I couldn't be more proud. I am me. So what if I have irrational fears or I pick flowers with my toes (did I not mention that before? It happens.) The point is that no matter my mood or no matter my frights I am happy. I can't help it. I can only hope that my ideals and my inherently happy diseases becoming catching, preferably airborne.
This is my challenge to you, LOVE with all your heart but most of all love yourself.
ACCEPTANCE.