Boston, Massachusetts

My first thought was to delete this picture. It doesn’t fit the image of the girl I always think I am — the svelte, self-assured, straight-haired writer girl who always knows what she wants and gets it.

I was happy at the moment the picture was taken, strolling along the Monitor’s reflecting pool (also known as “the playground”), pleased with the way my name badge fluttered in the breeze, relieved to be under the blue sky after a morning indoors.

Truth is, this wild-haired, overweight, disheveled looking girl always ends up being who I am, no matter how well my intentions begin. But my head was clear in this moment, and I was at peace with my world, walking in the shadow of “Mother Church,” as the Christian Scientists call the church headquarters adjacent to the Monitor’s offices.

I spend a lot of time pondering image and the ever-shifting juxtaposition between reality and perception. If I had never seen the image, if the camera had been removed from my hands as soon as the shutter fired, I would have been pleased with it, thinking I was every bit the cocky, self-assured writer girl I see in my head.

So for that reason, and that reason alone, I’m throwing it here. I spend enough time trying to be someone I’m not. If I can’t be whoever I am — rumpled, frumpy, short, disheveled, whatever — here in this world that I have created out of pixels and light, then there’s no reason for me to have this space at all.

Music: 29 Palms by Robert Plant (lyrics)

Posted on July 24, 2006 by Carmen K. Sisson tagged Boston, Massachusetts, self-portraits, writing