But now, during my heavy self-reflection time and attempting to come to terms with not ever achieving normal, I was reminded of the scene in Kill Bill where Bill compares Beatrix to Superman.
"Now, a staple of the superhero mythology is, there's the superhero and there's the alter ego. Batman is actually Bruce Wayne, Spider-Man is actually Peter Parker. When that character wakes up in the morning, he's Peter Parker. He has to put on a costume to become Spider-Man. And it is in that characteristic Superman stands alone. Superman didn't become Superman. Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the morning, he's Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. His outfit with the big red "S", that's the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears - the glasses, the business suit - that's the costume. That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what are the characteristics of Clark Kent?
He's weak... he's unsure of himself... he's a coward. Clark Kent is Superman's critique on the whole human race. Sorta like Beatrix Kiddo and Mrs. Tommy Plimpton. You would've worn the costume of Arlene Plimpton. But you were born Beatrix Kiddo. And every morning when you woke up, you'd still be Beatrix Kiddo. Moving to El Paso, working in a used record store, goin' to the movies with Tommy, clipping coupons. That's you, trying to disguise yourself as a worker bee. That's you tryin' to blend in with the hive. But you're not a worker bee. You're a renegade killer bee. And no matter how much beer you drank or barbecue you ate or how fat your ass got, nothing in the world would ever change that."
I am not (and Bill wasn't) comparing myself to a superhero of course...actually, he was calling Beatrix a killer. I am not a killer or a superhero, but I am something else. My own version of an alien wrapped in clothes dropped off at the Kents and trying to fit into society and trying as hard as possible to look inconspicuous. But like Bill said, nothing in the world would ever change that. I guess what I'm saying is that I've learned I need to look at myself as special.
Anyway, that's enough introspection. Here's what I've done at 28 years of age.
-barely survived til my birthday
-then had a mental breakdown and ran to a motel for a week and hid from humanity
-got a lot of flowers
-moved apartments into a space where I can breathe, got my very own bed
-met Flemith who is my love
-celebrated nine years of being in Utah
-went to my first car show and entered my first pinup contest
-got to be vastly disappointed with Fallout 4
-worked for Santa for the third year
-performed CPR on a victim for the first time
-got a promotion to sergeant
-got in a pretty bad car accident in which the Stratus saved my life
-bought Luis Sera, my very first car
-gained Swedish residency and visited Sweden for a short trip
-was gifted my first DSLR and took it everywhere in the world
-grew my own very first garden
-qualified with a weapon for work
-got rid of some toxic people
-met some amazing people
-went on my first bike ride to Wendover
-started my AWESOME job which I love dearly and which has helped my mental health so much
-went to Las Vegas
-had a mega breakdown with Flemeth's diagnosis and subsequent new zest for life when he came through surgery
And here we arrive at 29. Like I said in an earlier Instagram post, yeah, thanks for all the lessons 28 but I'd be just as content to have a fun year with no lessons this time. How's that?
ps. here is my first official present--aren't they gorgeous?