my "potential" mishap

One thing I've learned from working at Variations and doing my Voice column (and this latest one is #36, still hard to believe), is not to use the same word twice in a row, or even in the same paragraph. Usually I'm good about catching it, perhaps more often in other people's writing than my own. It wasn't until I saw it on Derek's blog that I realized I used "potential" twice in a row:

It’s crass to have to think about money when you’re trying to connect with the potential love of your life, and there’s potential for miscommunication and mistrust.

This is a case where reading it out loud isn't quite the same as reading it to yourself. I'm not perfect about reading my actually out loud, even though I know I should, but in my defense, the first "potential" is being used as an adjective, the second as a noun, and when I do say them, I pronounce them ever slightly differently. If I had to describe them, the adjective would end on a slightly higher note than the noun a little lower, maybe because of the context - the former is a good thing, the latter is a bad thing. Anyway, just one of those "oops" situations and I thought I'd be a total word nerd and share. Clearly, I am feeling much better in that I can quibble with myself over phrasing.

Seriously, it always amazes me how cathartic writing is for me, especially because I'll put off personal writing/blogging/journaling thinking it's not "important." I go through this mental debate that goes something like: "well, why type it up when you've been having these same thoughts spinning in your head over and over? No one really cares and what's the difference anyway? You'll get over it soon enough." But then, well, the thoughts don't go away, and they don't just stay in their same tidy little circle. They get darker and darker, until I'm second guessing every single minute decision I made, berating myself for this, that and the other thing, going over all these little things to see where things fell apart. And that's so pointless. But still, I always forget that while writing may not solve anything, it's most likely not going to make it worse. And somehow, without my even noticing, after purging all those thoughts, I really did feel better. And not mad or bitter or all that upset, just more disappointed. And not only do I have the most fabulous, supportive friends in the world, but situations like this force me to really ask myself, "Do you regret your actions?" "What would you do differently?" And really, the answer is no, and nothing.

I can't walk around expecting people to disappoint me or thinking the worst about them, or thinking the worst about myself. I finally have reached a point in my life where I think I can make intelligent choices about sex and dating, where I'm not so desperate that I feel overly flattered when someone likes me. I just sortof wait and see what life brings me. I don't think I'll ever be a checklist kind of girl because people, real ones anyway, who think for themselves, are so vibrant and creative and talented and unique, there's no way to cram all that individuality into a checklist. I don't like people because they fit some profile, and in fact, I probably like them more because they don't. The manesia happens when people (this isn't always the case, but often) are boring, when they don't stand out, when they don't distinguish themselves. I'm not really attracted usually to boring people. And that doesn't mean I don't like quiet people; I think quiet people are often the most fascinating because so much is lurking under the surface, and when quiet people open up to me, I'm so honored to get to hear what they have to say. They're not like me, yakking away all day to anyone and everyone, and their thoughts are a little more guarded but still there nonetheless. Anyway, my point was that a) I'm a lot better and b) I can't regret or apologize for going with my instincts. They may lead me astray quite often but in the moment, I'm doing what feels and seems right, and that's really all I can strive for.