Wanting to be Remembered

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School was ending in Kindergarten and I went outside to wait for my mom to pick me up. I must have read some story about Jesus calming the storm, because I was outside waving my arms towards the sky and attempting to control the weather. My eyes were closed; I was in the zone. Until my friend, Billy, came up to me and said, "You're trying to be like Jesus, aren't you?"

"Of course not," I replied, dropping my hands to my backpack straps. My face must have turned red and luckily Billy moved on to something else—like throwing stuff at girls or some other normal Kindergarten shit. This is the first instance I recall of trying to get attention. 

I love acting, always have, and I'm good at it. I've nailed roles like the Elvis-themed-Pharaoh in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, Lysander in A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Ernie in It's a Wonderful Life. I've always had a knack for the stage and love public speaking. I am more anxious in one-on-one conversations than in front of an audience. 

I've had to question my intentions and ask myself if I need the attention or want the attention. I think sometimes it's both. I like getting reactions from people, making people think about things from a new perspective, and providing joy. None of those things are bad, but I think needing those reactions from other people is a deeper desire for love that I struggle to give myself. 

Giving myself love is still such a strange concept to me. I used to laugh at "self-love" as a cheesy, millenial, Starbucks-basic-white-chick level concept. My boss got onto me in a good way today by telling me I apologize too much, and I do struggle with self-confidence and self-love. I think I want all this attention and want to be remembered long after I'm dead because I'm not content within myself. Even writing this blog could be part of that attention-love-seeking shit. 

How do you love yourself? Love seems to be more than this Christian concept of pure will. Love as purely an action seems to be robotic. The Hollywood concept of love as pure emotion also seems off because I do want to love the folks I don't like, even if I don't feel like it. I want to understand them on a deeper level and be able to forgive, not for their sake but for mine. Perhaps love is an action-emotion combo thing that we grow into rather than ever fully understand. 

I notice in my writing that I'm trying to figure all of this out and reach a conclusive answer that likely doesn't exist as we know it. I sometimes feel like mother nature is cruelly pulling the carpet from under me whenever I feel close to getting answers to my deep questions. What a strange thing life is. What a beauty to exist in this inconclusive, strange space-time continuum with weird emotions and complex relationships with others. What a joy and pain to be alive.

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