on the fluidity of being almost-37 and having a soul that's one-half marshmallow banana

I make an effort to act casual, which is thinly veiled gobsmacked staring no matter what you do. I feel simultaneously envious and protective of her, my niece. Her entry into years 13-21 makes me grimace -- either on her behalf, or in memory, or both.

She stands in line for her ticket and reaches into a bag of popcorn and tells me about taking math tests in German and French and I tell her where to get a cute summer dress in the city and I just can't believe it. I held her in my arms once. Well. I might not have. I was probably too afraid she'd be contagious -- if not her, the condition of motherhood in her proximity. But still. I held her, a baby.

+++

So many words tossed around to encourage self-congratulation. Authenticity. Realness. Courage. And I can't help thinking what I think: that courageous people don't reflect upon their own authentic truth. They don't have the head space. And they don't invite others to comment on the awesomely authentic truthiness of their authentic truth. They're too busy surviving whatever non-internet-based struggle they face to contemplate the implications of audience and perception.

The only time it's worth congratulating someone on how real they are is if you're hoping they might show you their tits.

It's like when you're thirteen and you're crying about how that curly-haired mean girl at school screamed BITCH! at you from one end of the school hallway to the other because she thought you thought her boyfriend was cute. Which you totally did. But she didn't know that for sure. And besides. He thought you were a total loser and told everybody that, and so why does she care if you thought he was cute before he humiliated you in front of the Amherst Ramblers hockey team and before she screamed BITCH! at you from one end of the school hallway to the other?

So you're thirteen and you're trying to impress upon somebody the gravity of it all and that somebody gets a vaguely impatient look and then they say it:

Just Be Yourself.

Which self, exactly? I have a lot of selves.

VERIFIABLE INVENTORY OF KATE'S TRUEST AND MOST AUTHENTIC SELVES*

1. The self that is compelled by the idea of looking like a circa-1986 prostitute, or at the very least, the heroine of a ZZ Top video
2. The self that can only wear slutty shoes for 43 minutes without blistering
3. The self that continues to persist with sluttiness beyond blistering until feet leave a splatter trail of blood only detectable if the lights suddenly come on
4. The self that objects to objectification
5. The self that objects to a lack of objectification
6. The self that likes the smell of dirt
7. The self that thinks people who run because it's raining are not to be trusted
8. The self that gets squealy in high-end drugstores
9. The self that owns a pair of synthetic adhesive sealskins and bets that 98% of you don't know what they're for
10. The self that is a better parent than you are
11. The self that is a worse parent than you are
12. The self that detects a lack of humility in others before they know it themselves
13. The self that thinks she is The Shit
14. The self that is selfless
15. The self that has a secret bank account flagged FOR HIGH-END DRUGSTORES
16. The self that screws off people who think they know what they're talking about
17. The self that earnestly wants to know what you're talking about

*NOT INCLUDING SELVES DEEMED SHAMEFUL, GREEDY, GROSS, CATTY, UNHYGIENIC, OF LOOSE MORAL FIBRE, OR OTHERWISE UNCOOL, OF WHICH THERE ARE AN ADDITIONAL 32

+++

When I was thirteen, I was a highly-functioning basketcase. Then I grew up a little and became the cleverest idiot at Queen Elizabeth High School. I had no idea what Myself was. I wanted to be her so very badly, this elusive Myself. It was always just this paralyzing crush of confusion and selves.

So I wailed, and continued to wail, and tried desperately to look like I was Totally Not Wailing until I was 21 years old. That's when the Universe decided it was time for me to see Justin standing at the bottom of an escalator. And that he should be wearing a nubbly fleece, and that he should look hairy and unkempt and delicious. And the Universe knew that Justin would be patient but not patient enough to be into wailing. And so, halfway down that escalator and three seconds before he looked up, the wailing abruptly stopped.

Justin wanted me to follow him up snowy mountains, so he bought me my first pair of skins. But only after I showed him my tits.

For real.

With a nod to Neil, riffing muse, after his post on figuring out what the heck anybody means by authenticity.

Comments

[Hannah]

YES.

I freakin' love this. Because yes, oh my god, so many selves - and which one is real? All, or none?

Aren't sealskins to protect your feet from blisters? Or is that moleskins I'm thinking of? If I'm right, do I win a lovely parting gift?

Re: the authenticity thing - read this book: http://authenticityhoax.squarespace.com/about-the-book/ It's brilliant.

[sweetsalty kate]

Hannah, I'm afraid you're not right. But I'll still give you a gift. I owe you beer, anyway. I owe everybody beer, the whole collective. That's Self #18 on the list: The Self That Arrives On Sunday And Thus Must Mooch Liquor. Right before Self #19 (Repulsed By Moochers).

I've heard about that book - it does look brilliant. It's a slightly different angle on the word, but yes. I'd like to read it.

[Megsie]

Loved this post! And, although I have no 13 year olds in my council, sometimes I think my (almost) nine year old is struggling with the same stuff. It is a great reminder about how confusing it all is. Even at 40. ACK! When does wisdom set in?

[sweetsalty kate]

Megsie: 38, I hear. I'm hopeful. I dunno, though. The person who told me was also 37. And a little bit drunk.

[angelica]

hilarious, and so true. but that's kind of the beauty of it though isn't it? I mean, the ability to keep changing and keep choosing who you want to be.

An absolute profound top class whaler myself, I found becoming a mother a second adolescence, and a much more painful one (life is some what more limited then, both by age and by the fact that you are 100% responsible of this little thing)

so it's kind of the beauty of it... on a good day

[Jen/LA]

www.kellehampton.com

She just wrote a post about her own story that sort of dealt with this and it isn't my favorite blog and I've found room to criticize her but I had to take some of it back because she had a point... we sort of create our own stories and these blogs, and our books and our movies sort of all roll into a giant life "dough" and we sneak bits and bake bits and hope what people digest taste something similar to what I'm tasting and then the tricky part is knowing the whole time that it just won't taste the same for another person no matter what. But I so want others to taste it!

I guess what makes some famously "authentic" is when they are tasting bitter bits and they roll out that dough and they say "chew this and shut your eyes" and like a fine wine they start to bring out all the undernotes, all the stuff the bitter taste might have overwhelmed if not for a more trained pallete and you swallow and say ah, yes, I did taste the honey, I really think I did and maybe there will be honey in mine too!

And then I walk away thinking what an awesome person to find honey, what a wise old bird and what Kelle's blog reminded me of is that the person saying "chew this" is really saying, "You tasted the honey too, didn't you? I have to have honey in this, you tasted it too right"

And I like that, I really like that because I believe in honey in everything and I come here because you roll tits and sealskins(?) into the whole thing too.

[Amanda]

I am sitting at the first day of July, knowing the last day will bring 37. Never younger, but getting bolder.

Tits and doubts, that's some powerful stuff there.

For real.

[sweetsalty kate]

Jen, that's a lovely way to put it. Yesterday, on twitter, Roger Ebert shared an article with this recommendation: "...great writing from the heart." And I figure, as you said, that this is what people are actually saying when they use the word 'authentic'. But authentic is a word that, in addition to being overused to the point of meaninglessness, comes bundled with too many other implications. Why crown someone with 'authenticity' when you can just thank them for great writing from the heart? There's no need to drag the question of truthiness or 'soul-work' into it.

[mosey]

I better get cracking on figuring out how to be authentic before my daughter reaches those horrible terrible no-good days that I still shudder to remember and for which I want to prepare her by surrounding her in bubble wrap.

*sigh* I was alternately chuckling and weeping at recognizing myself in this...

[Amber McN]

I love it. I drag my 13 year old self with me everywhere I go. I can't seem to shake her loose.

[Caroline]

"I wanted to be her so very badly, this elusive Myself."

I filled about ten diaries with all that wanting. what a perfectly perfect way to describe the core of teenage angst.

(and happy canada day from a neighbor south of the border!)

[Mamie]

One of my favorite things about you and Neil And your friendship/writing relationship is the dialogue you create... Both in posting and comments. And the way you both say what I have thought. All those selves are so totally you and will never ( and probably should not be) encapsulated in blogland because the selves are almost impossible to capture in 2D. Like you said in Neil's comments, does telling the world about my sex life or dirty laundry teLly capture those selves?

Sometimes I feel schizo in my blog space because one day it is about hand stitched knit skirts and the next about the almost unbearable sensation of falling deeply into shavasana. I ditched the whole write about my kids lately. I can't seem to keep track of them. :)

but ultimately it is just a space that collects parts of me and holds them in a google server in some ether forever and real life is the root of the selves and a place I have felt a he'll of a lot more comfortable of late.

Laughing at the tits part...once Tim and I saw these burly bikers in the mountains and one guy was wearing a helmet cap that read 'show us yer tits'. Cannot get that image of out my head now. (I restrained myself somehow).

Also, skins. Pretty cute guesses by Hannah.

[Jenn]

Well, I guess I feel a wee bit silly, as I believe I have commented before on your authenticity and how courageous your are to tell your truth. But in my defense, my self #15 loathes herself because she can't say what she really thinks at the precise time that it should be said. I have always perceived people who can do this as scary, brash, unconcerned with the other person's feelings and more importantly, people who are so, so lucky. I want to shed the #15 but she is a stubborn one....maybe if I show her my tits??

[sweetsalty kate]

Please don't feel silly Jenn. Lots of people have said that as a way of trying to express "thanks for writing from the heart" - and I get that. That's a lovely thing to say. What I'm addressing here is the more explicit and meta-discourse around "what is 'authentic' in blogging" - and the trend that urges people to "be more authentic". That's what I puzzle at, and question.

I didn't mean to outlaw those words when they're passed from one individual to the other, although I guess I did use that scenario as an example in the comments over at Neil's blog... I don't know. I've heard those words a lot, given to me and kindly meant, but I've always had this censorious pang that slaps me on the side of my head when it happens. It's a voice that says "They just mean to be encouraging - you're not some kind of authenticity champion, or courageous person, at least not outside of the NICU." And I go "OKAY! OKAY! GAWD!" but I need that voice, you know?

That pang is my inner Scotch Protestant great-grandmother, who yanks back on the leash of my marshmallow banana soul whenever my marshmallow banana soul tries to adopt kindly-meant sentiments as literal gospel. And I'm cool with that.

[Becky]

Skins for your ski's!

[Neil]

So, the way to a Canadian woman's heart... or at least seeing her topless... is seal skins? Happy Canada Day

By the way, you revealed so much about yourself in this post. I bet you don't even realize it. very authentic.

[Jen/LA]

We agree Kate, yes, way over used, like "humble" and "sweet" and "cute" and let's face it, "love" or my pet peeve, "Christian". It describes you but I would shy away from it just the same :)

So, um, thanks for the "great writing from the heart"... that's from this heart!

(and yes, I'm feeling like cream bisque today, warm and sweet, catch me tomorrow and I will try to be less affirming)

[Christine Sweet]

Holy MOTHER I loved this. Ahhhhh, it made me laugh. Well, not out loud, but not for lack of hilarity. I was just by myself and you know how that goes.

Gosh, I loved it!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sweetsalty kate]

Becky wins the prize! (Of course she does. Becky knows all about mountains. She walked two thousand miles in one go.)

[amanda]

38 and still dragging my inner 13 year old along with me. do we ever get rid of our inner 13 year old or does the voice just get quieter as we get older, muted by the discovery of even more selves?

[Becky]

Hmm, Perhaps I'm not the Becky You're thinking of...While I have walked many a mile, never 2000 in one go! I do live in Utah though, and spend time in the winters yo-yo skiing in the Wasatch back.
Somewhere in my head, the idea of authenticity is mixed up with non-contrivance. ( not sure if that is a word..) One can come across anyway they want to on the internet. Stories, words references, writing ability, these are the things that I think make up how you are percieved on the internet. When those things are born from ' untruthiness', that is apparent somehow, and disingenuous.
I wonder what I would have thought, if when I was thirteen, someone told me to be all myselves!

[Anne]

I think that was a pretty good trade.... tits for a pair of seals (and Justin, of course!)

[Hannah]

Ah, sealskins are for SKIS! No wonder I didn't know. We don't have mountains out here on the east coast.

(And I looked it up. Moleskin IS used to prevent blisters. Although I doubt it's actually from real moles. Heh.)

[Gal]

Briliant. But wait... you met Justin on an escalator? I would like the rest of the story, please.

[Ava]

The self that objects to objectication
The self that objects to lack of objectification.
Too funny.
I love your writing not only because you have the most amazing way with words but because you do write from the heart. I, of course, bought a copy of dread crew and although it is wonderful I felt that it was missing the element that I love most about your blog. The personal stories, the dead-on reflections of life. ( this post included). hope you considerpublishing a book that shows that side as I have yet to find another blog with such a talented writer with so many interesting- selves

[Jenn]

Is it bad that the part of this awesome post that stuck in my mind were that we are the same age and you went to QEH. Because I dated a guy at QEH and I used to go to all of the high school dances there which were so much cooler (as only the styles of 1989 can be) than my school's dances. You had football players that dressed as women during initiation. We didn't even have a football team. And who knows -- I may have admired your prostitute-esque styling 20 years and many moves ago. Small world this internet.

[sweetsalty kate]

Jenn, you had a QE boyfriend? Funny, I remember the cross-dressing jocks. They probably made me giggle nervously. QE only had a football team out of tradition, because St. Pat's did, and in the 50s, the protestants had to try and beat the catholics at football. Nobody knows why. It was a religious requirement. And it made for good cross-dressing titillation.

I didn't have prostitute-esque styling 20 years ago. I've never had it. I've always wanted a pair of electric blue stilettos (to wear with lace-trimmed ankle socks, naturally) but I've always been too afraid of people thinking I am a prostitute. I KNOW. I can hardly stand it, this soul-friction.

[Emily]

Woman, you crack me up. Even when you make me cry like a wee babe, usually I'm laughing somewhere in there.

"But only after I showed him my tits.'

Word.

[Alison]

In light of this post, and mine, I am kind of breathless and angsty since now I'm reading this and finding out that 13-21 is apparently a life stage. Is 22 something completely different? Here I was, refreshed and zen (thank you) and now you've gone and put an effing blindfold on me with the idea that 22 is JUST THE BEGINNING of SOMETHING WORSE (or maybe better) than being anywhere between 13-21?

I could kill you for this new freakout catalyst. Instead, I will blackmail you with threats of sharing Squinty Photos and Photos of Your Kids With Snotty Noses (which I will photoshop and saturate the green).

xo

[Rita Arens]

I have no idea what sealskins are, but now I must find out.

[Jane]

Can't help but think you ought to try your hand and teen-angsty fiction - the way you are able to capture the multiple/wrestling selves. I know my 13 year old self would have gobbled up and felt less oh-so-tragically-misunderstood getting to share your wisdom/brain. Not that you talk fluent 13-year-old, more that you speak fluent woman.

[Elizabeth (@claritychaos)]

skipping past comments here: teles!

I love the images from your first meeting with your husband.

[Cheryl Arkison]

Classic.

(And I think I knew Justin when you were 21, so I totally get that. But not in a creepy, of loose moral fibre kind of way.)

[maggie, dammit]

That Neil leaves the most authentic comments! He's a peach.

Hey, I love you. And, this?

"And they don't invite others to comment on the awesomely authentic truthiness of their authentic truth. They're too busy surviving whatever non-internet-based struggle they face to contemplate the implications of audience and perception."

Yep.

xo

[Rocky]

YES! Your post reminded me of the old and not so famous Billy Joel song "The Stranger".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jI2BnzF1860

[TwoBusy]

I'd never really thought much on the idea of authenticity, but I think your (partial) (and entirely fascinating) list of authentic selves is part of the reason why: you can take a dozen, two dozen, three dozen different perspectives on any given event, story, experience, whatever, and all of them can be authentic because all of them may ring true and resonant to some aspect of who you are... or were... or aspire to become.

And maybe that's why "authenticity" is such a difficult thing to nail down: because there are so many disparate definitions for it that are, in their own fashion, true.

Whatever. This is getting too meta, and I'm not smart enough to figure it all out. In any case: as always, beautiful post.

[bessie.viola]

#7 rings so true with me. I am HIGHLY mistrustful of people who carry umbrellas when there is simply rain forecast. I used to think it was because I lack some Adult Gene that encouraged such preparedness, but now I think I give them the side-eye because they are controlling to the point of no return. What's a little rain going to hurt, honestly?

Awesome post. I find myself very contemplative around teenagers as well.

[Donna]

I cannot believe i found this blog today. I came over from Shutters sisters.
Today is my 37th b-day! I check Shutter Sisters daily, religously. I was poking around today further than just the actual daily photos. I am so very happy I found you. This, you, your blog, your writing, your POV...Everything I have seen and read here so far this morning is where I see my self, secretly deep down desired to be.
Now,on my 37th birthday I feel confdent and on the path to my own truths and honesty to me that I may be able to start.
Congrats on your book and seriously......you came along at just the right time.