Stuck in the Middle

13 10 2009

Maybe things are looking up.

Although I have found that my genes (most likely) keep me from being a perky positive person in general, I cannot deny that life is rather good at the moment. Okay… maybe my genes aren’t to blame… but it’s as good a start as any. Perhaps I should do a research study on the genetic code of middle born children, and see where that leads me. Then again, would I have to factor in that I am the second of three daughters? Would having male siblings alter the course of my findings? Or would I even be bothered about this question if I were male instead of female?

I’d say it’s too early in the morning to think about these things, but once it’s already after 11 AM, ‘early’ becomes relevant only in relation to the time of the afternoon or evening. At that point, morning has plenty much run out of early.

I think growing up with two sisters helped quite a lot in making me who I am today… Wow, look at me, little Miss Points-Out-The-Obvious… Don’t get me wrong; I have no grudge against my sisters. We get along fine – fine as it’s possible for three completely different yet somehow eerily the same girls can be. If it weren’t for my sisters, and the fact that somewhere along the lines I decided to keep more to myself and immerse my imagination in books, I probably wouldn’t be a writer today. I wouldn’t have been interested in the various kinds of literature and mythology; I wouldn’t have read Stephen King (the horror!!); I wouldn’t have dabbled in writing short stories and poetry; and I most certainly would not even have gone on to do not only languages as an undergraduate degree but English Honours as a postgraduate degree at Stellenbosch university. In essence, I wouldn’t be the ‘me’ I love.

Sure, we have our pitfalls. Three different ages – three different perspectives on the various aspects of life. My older sister is engaged. She studied hotel management, and one of her favourite pastimes is going to the gym. She is a hardworking, no-nonsense, ditch-the-skirt-and-grab-life-by-the-balls individual who doesn’t mind me calling her a bitch – she knows it, she’s proud of it, and if she could, she’d probably take it as a middle name. My younger sister, now in her final year of high school, is a lot like my older sister. (This is approximately where my middle child syndrome starts to kick in.) She wants to make a career of singing, and is going to study music next year at university. They really are scarily alike, my two sisters. They took all the same subjects at school. Whereas they opted for Biology and Music, I chose Geography, History and Computer Studies. Both of them sang in the school choir (although, technically, my younger sister still does); I wrote for and was the subeditor of the school newspaper. Both of them are spontaneous, good with people, flirty, make friends easily, and have a kind of charming chagrin I could never hope to master. I, on the other hand, am soft-spoken, quiet (when you first get to know me), reserved, terrible at fitting in in a crowd, and somehow unappealing to the opposite sex. I think both of my sisters are better looking than I am; they, on the other hand, think I’m the cutie in the family. ‘Cute’. Aren’t dogs cute? Or a dress you see in a shop window? Cute. Hmm. I’m the quiet librarian type, glasses and all.

I’m sort of going off the point here, if there ever truly was a point. I cannot claim that my genes have anything to do with my outlook on life. Maybe I just love pessimism. Yet now, at this point in my life’s journey, I find that “For a Pessimist, I’m pretty Optimistic” – many thanks to Paramore for that song title, it fits in quite nicely here. And the reason, I would wager, that ‘things are looking up’, as my introductory line states, has much to do with both my writing, which is my metaphysical (?) love, and my Significant Other, who is my True (human and thus literal) Love.

But that’s enough of all of this, for now. Tomorrow is another day – cliché!!! – and another blog entry awaits. Perhaps I could write about him then. Or perhaps I could just talk about how I wish that people were more like flowers… or how I take criticism… or (yes, so many ‘or’s) I could go off on a tangent about the Angry Beavers, and hopefully get their memorable episode dialogue and silly one liners out of my head.

Because having the words “The salmon are running!” in your head for a few days can really make you want to go off of fish for the rest of your life.

[Oh, and did I mention that I’m the shortest of the three sisters? Exit, stage left, to inferiority complex territory…]

Exit, stage left

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