Quirky

Let me post this video on every form of social media I have.

This is what I’m thinking about today.

I’ve felt the pressure to be this trope in my life.  The Manic Pixie Dream Girl.  Not that there is anything wrong with being quirky, childlike, or carefree, but there is a danger, as I’ve written about before, in reducing oneself or others to a single story.  And there is a danger in being something for the wrong reasons.  If you are sassy, classy, and a bit smart-assy for yourself, thats fine, but don’t exist to further the storyline of someone else.

Let yourself feel when you want to.  Throw it all to the wind when you need to.  Cry when crying seems important, and laugh when you’re tired of crying.  Have your own interests, your own family, your own job, your own popcorn.  Exist because you are brilliant.  You’ll do more for the world that way.

I’ve denied critical parts of myself, critical emotions, because I felt they would get in the way of other people’s development.  I’ve stifled  in order to inspire.  But I am not a muse.  You are not a muse.  We’re all people.  Full, complicated, quirky individuals, with our own hopes and dreams and futures.

The manic pixie perpetuates the myth of women as caregivers at our very core. That we can go fix these lonely sad men so that they can go fix the world.

I am not required to play mother to the world.  I am called to live fully in it.  Not as a manic pixie dream girl, fixing the tragic heroes that come into my life, but as the tragic hero herself.  Its my screenplay.

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