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I’ve been receiving a lot of blind encouragement lately from That Strange Diva. Whenever I tell her one of my ambitions, without facts or inserting opinion, she immediately tells me to go for it. Do it! And it’s been, for lack of a thesaurus, very encouraging. Now granted I should probably take a step back and examine these affirmations coming from a person who’s life philosophy is dive head first and we’ll learn how to swim later. No, wait. That’s a bad analogy. Neither of us can swim. Actually a really good one is a true story that happened between us when we lived together/down the street from one another.

En·cour·age
inˈkərij/
verb
verb: encourage; 3rd person present: encourages; past tense: encouraged; past participle: encouraged; gerund or present participle: encouraging
  1. give support, confidence, or hope to (someone).

Strange decided that she needed a haircut. Both of us are DIY oriented, so it didn’t surprise me in the least that she took a pair of my scissors into the bathroom and began clipping. It did surprise me, however, when she came out a little while later and handed the scissors to me insisting that I trim the back.

I’m natural now, which means I’ve had to learn how to properly care for my hair over the years. So I have some hairstyling skills and I’m not afraid to cut anymore, but at the time I rocked a perm. It wasn’t even a home perm either. I went to the hairdresser every 6 weeks or whenever it was time for a new one. So when she handed me the scissors it was…daunting. I was hesitant, but then I thought maybe I can. Just cut straight across. Easy as that right? Right?

She had 100% faith in me, but me? Not so much. So I expressed as much. Which is when things got ugly.

Strange and I have a unique relationship. Often there are recurring themes and bits. One of our things is “escalation” it’s more or less one of us inducing a false panic in the other one. It is practically mandatory now, but the haircut incident was the first noteworthy instance of this.

So with all of her love, and empowerment, and confidence….she yelled at me. Like in a mean way, like a coach motivating his team to “DIG DEEP!” or “HUSTLE!” And of course I panicked and screamed cause I am a child and bad at sports.

The point of this story is that even though she probably, technically, should not be in possession of her own power of attorney, it really feels nice to have someone have that much insane confidence in your abilities. It’s been motivating me to do more things. Things I don’t want to do, but need to. And creative things I’m less sure of, but give me immense joy.

Strange has a blog, and a twitter, and a Facebook, but like myself is somehow oddly private despite these very visible public forums, so she is going to hate this entry. Naturally, I’m going to tell her that I wrote a blog post ALL about her, just to hear her panic.

J.R.H

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One thought on “Chapter 3: Swing for the Fences…Cause They Don’t Have Any Arms.

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