just minishorts.

It's not that I don't know people know who I am. At least, some people. It's not like I don't promote this site, well, I mention it in passing sometimes, and honestly, why not? I am thrilled when people talk about me, it doesn't matter if it's a bad thing or a good thing, the point is, people listen to you, at least, SOME people do, and that's about enough for me.

But just the other day, something happened which made me sit up for a bit and consider the zits on my face and how I ought to learn how to present myself better. The other day, I was caught stiff in my steps as I was walking from the office to the carpark. Dishevelled, a bag of meat floss in a hand, another holding some CNY cookies, and working tote flung on the side, a stranger beside me then, a sudden pause, a quick remark,

'You're minishorts, aren't you?'

I was taken aback. Unprepared. It had happened before, in more public places, where I had taken care to be ready, to look better, less dishevelled, at least. A place where I can say, 'Yes, hello. Thanks for reading my blog.' A handshake perhaps, and then a smile. Then a short chat. Something classy like that.

Instead, all I did was say, 'Uh,' and bowed my head, in shock. Damn it I am not good with strangers at all.

He continued, 'I read your blog.'

Then I did another, 'Uh.'

And then he said some more, 'Man I can't believe I'm talking to you.'

And another, 'Uh.'

I really have to learn how to compose myself properly when strangers walk up to me and tell me they read me. I definitely, definitely suck at PR.

That was when the reality sunk in: I'm just not that kind of PR-savvy girl, I don't want to pretend to be one at all, and I'm not keen on pretending I don't have imperfections–because I am not perfect. I rant, they're not halfway logical, I'm not in anyway proud of my rants, but they make me steadfast as a person, and then this whole thing is like a system to remind myself of things I should not be doing anymore.

And then if you haven't realized it already, after a few months of struggling to keep up with the pace, the shameful confession is that I can't handle it, not when I have to take it by the horns, because the virtual reality is that I just spout unintelligable words that will mock me as I plod along the paths of my future in that solid reality. But I choose to live with the damning evidence because they are important sticky notes to remind me of the ugly side of myself that I should not nurture.

So the obvious choice was to sit back, take a deep breath, and think about priorities. This path, what path? It is insignificant, nothing important to me. I just keep it to release stress, so why should it be an avenue to inflict more pain?

I made that choice.

You see the results of that choice.

You're witnessing that change, happening before your very own eyes.

My reality, the one I live in, the world I have, the friends who keep me close, the midnight rants, and the mid-afternoon sneak-chats, the opinionated clashes, the family, the cousins, the man I love, the MID (bitter, nevertheless), these are what matter. I didn't want to disappoint you, but it had to happen sooner or later. They matter. more than anything, anyone else in the entire world, because I am REAL to them, more than the personality on this white page that you see, the one that is a mere 1% of the real me. Oh yes I am she and she is me, but I am much, much more than she, did you not realize this?

Minishorts has become someone who I'm proud to be, and not proud to be. I'm happy to be her because she can say the things I can't in reality, she's the bitch I cannot be in reality, she is able to articulate her thoughts better than the person I am in reality, and she doesn't freeze into inaction when strangers make short remarks, unlike the meek mouse I am in reality.

Yet I'm not happy to be her because of the alter egoes I've built up for her, the Hyde within her that occasionally threatens to take over the real me, and the murky blurred line that separates the personality that the friends are accustomized to from the persona that her readers expect her to be.

So yes, it is all personal, as it was before since a long time ago, as it will be for a long time to come. And then some.