when a stumble is not so bad.

Who would have known that I would grow to love every stumble? Online that is. I’ve recently been converted to the cult of the Stumble-Upon, a Firefox Add-on that collects your interests and virtually leads you to cool sites that you would never have found on your own. In my half a day of being a new stumbler, I have come upon word origin sites, sites of the most interesting statues around the world, correct language usage sites (this may seem boring to you, but to me, its about as exciting as the Oscars!)

With a click of a button, different worlds are opened to me, and all that influx of information just made me a tad bit philosophical, leading me to this particular thought – while we may hate to admit it, we all need a little help sometimes.

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moving on to something slightly connected, but not really…I used to be terrified of stumbling. Literally. For the longest time, I would have nightmares of me falling on my butt in front of people who were important to me, and I have seen more than my share of those nightmares realized. For a good part of my college years, I was called “Dulas Queen” by those who were close to me. And I have developed many mechanisms to deal with my apparent clumsiness. Weird ones. Look at me walking to see some of them I suppose. I can never pinpoint when exactly each of them comes out.

But now I hate making mistakes. And I punish myself repeatedly for making them. I still mentally punish myself for things I did in high school even. Stupid things I said. Bursts of overexcitement that I may have spread too much too son. Bold fashion choices that I regret putting together. All those years of self-punishment I think have resulted in me becoming the vanilla person that I am. I’m scared that the clumsy wild person inside has left me for good.

I was asked what about my old self was it that I missed the most --- and I couldn’t muster an answer then…but I think I remember parts of her now. And so I recall the silly person whom I tried to forget once lived inside my body.

The girl who said things, random things, before she thought.
The girl who wore leggings and shoulder pads the way her mom did. (this part I don’t miss too much, but I miss her fashion bravado hahaha)
The girl who was ballsy enough to call her high school crush because she didn’t want to spend an afternoon watching tv alone.
The girl who thought hopeful thoughts and dreamed big dreams.
The girl who liked sharing, everything, anything.
The girl who fell in love too much too fast, with almost everyone in sight.

Years down the line, it seems to me that it would have been “way funner” if I had slipped and stumbled my way down the garden path. At least I would have had great scar stories to tell.