I spend a lot of time being me. Which is weird, because I don't always totally love me, so you'd think I'd be someone else some of the time. I pick up mannerisms belonging to others - if they set them down, and they look shiny, I'll pick 'em up and try 'em on for a bit - but I've yet to commit to full-on personality theft. Mostly because I never remember the props and fake mustaches and phony accents that come along with being someone else.
But I realized there's a person I'd very much LIKE to be - and until today, I didn't realize her name was Rebekka. (Mind you, this is a real person, not a, "I've decided to name this personality Rebekka. She loves cats and pistachio ice cream," scenario.) Rebekka Seale writes a blog called Dear Friend, which I happened on today. And I realized, as many activities I might have in common with this girl, SHE is the person I sometimes wish I were. The sweet, sourdough-baking, wool-hat-knitting, brown-paper-and-twine-sandwich-wrapping, dreamy-watercolor-illustrating poet-type, who writes romantic things like, "Here's wishing you all sweetness in the world this month: Blazing fires on frigid nights, and shimmery snow if your winter has been anything but. May your hands be kept warm by steaming cocoa, may you be intoxicated by the perfume of flowers, and may you lavish love on all those dear to you."
I swear, if I ever said anything like that to anyone they would look at me like I had three heads and probably ask if I were drunk. Which, yes, I would probably have to be to even attempt it. And even then it would probably come out more like, "Here's wishing you cheese sandwich! ... Er... flugelhorn..."
I posted this mostly as a kudos to Rebekka Seale, whose blog made me take a break from the silliness and sarcasm and sloppy awkwardness that pervades most of my waking hours, and made me dream of a person I'll never be, but would very much like to be. A person whose blog looks like a really glamorous Pinterest board.
