Different

(--writer's note: This was written October 17, 2014.  One of my 2 a.m. brainstorms.)

My name is Aleta Kaylee and that is quite extraordinary.  Not very many people carry that name.  My blood type is AB negative, which is very rare in itself.  I am the universal receiver, and maybe that says something about me; and then again, maybe it doesn’t.  I am an insomniac, and many of my best and worst ideas come to me after the clock strikes midnight.

I look like my mom's side of the family.  I have dark hair and dark eyes, a typical trait in the Watson and Arrington line.  I happen to love my eyes...they are brown; but not just plain, boring brown.  In some light they take on a reddish tone.  I kind of love that.

I am both a mama’s girl and a daddy’s girl, and will forever be.  I got my mama’s wit, her eyes, her hair, her blood type.  But don’t be fooled...daddy sure had something to do with my makeup, too.   I was blessed with his ability to speak up, his charisma, his temper, his filter (or lack there of)...I am an equal mixture of both.

I write what I can, because, for some unknown reason, I was blessed with the power of words.  They fill my mind daily.  Words consume me, most days, actually.

I hear voices pretty regularly.  Not in a Dissociative Disorder type of way, but characters from books I’ve read, books I’ve imagined, people I’ve met, characters I’ve seen on tv or in movies, characters from my own stories.  They all speak to me, and it is up to me to know how to use them.

I am probably one of the most honest, intelligent, caring, outgoing, indecisive, overanalyzing, reclusive people that you will ever meet.  And I say that not to be cocky, but perhaps because I’m a Leo, and that’s just how we are?

I am a smart girl.  And I’m passionate.  I can be feisty and fiery.  I care far too much, I give far too much.  And I will always be THAT girl.  I think sometimes that intimidates people.  At least, I’ve been told that a time or two.  I don’t understand that, but it is what it is.  I am unable to change it.

I am an educated woman, and my vocabulary is fairly extensive, but my favorite word ever is “Hell.”  And this is very closely followed by the “F” word :)  I’m just fun-loving, foul-mouthed Southern Belle, really.

I’m doomed in love.  I always fall for the asshole.  Always.  Young guy, old guy, always the asshole.  If you’re a complete and utter jerk to me, I will love you forever.  And that is how it goes.  Always.

That being said, I have met the great love of my life.  And let me just say, He and I never could have made it work, if that had even been an option.  We were very much the same, we knew each others ins and outs, we understood each other, and we respected each other....and when we got along, it was great....and when we didn't....the gates of Hell opened.

I still love to hear the rain beating down on a tin roof.  I think that that sound inevitably takes every single girl back to a certain time and place.  I know that it’s the truth in my case.

Military funerals make me cry.  Taps followed by the 21 gun salute can bring tears to my eyes and make my knees weak.

I often dress up when I want to dress down.  Quirky is my style.  I love to wear dresses.  I fill the empty void within my soul with headbands, and necklaces, and baubles.  And truthfully, as the days go by, I’m becoming more and more okay with that.

I’m pretty sure that I was a chain-smoking flapper in a past life.  The 1920s encompass a hope, a lifestyle full of grandeur, I can only imagine living in...but boy, if I would’ve...I’m pretty sure Zelda Fitzgerald would’ve been my best friend.

I want to read as many classics as I can get my hands on.  I want to read these novels, see this artistry for myself.  I want to know what made these authors tick, see the gumption put into an often singular, magnificent piece, that will forever be mentioned around stuffy dinner parties, or at scholarly brunches.

I want to travel the world. But first, I would like to travel the South, and linger in all of it’s nooks and crannies, taking in every dialect, every foodie hole-in-the-wall, every piece of great architecture, every old house.  I want to hear every ghost story, every tale of woe.  I want to meet characters, and laugh with sinners, and break bread with old-timers.

I want to have every glorious line that has been destined as cinema gold memorized, so that it flows fluidly off my lips at the most opportune time.  I want to go in old theaters, and take in modern plays.

I want to see things, and do things, and go places.  I want to have my life as filled to the brim as it possibly can be.  I want to meet as many people as I possibly can.  I want to find what inspires me to do what I do best, and be who I am best, and love what I love the best.

Music inspires me.  Art inspires me.  Literature inspires me.  And all have the ability to make my stomach sink, and tears spring to my eyes all in one sharp swoop to a forte or climax.

My emotions run high, and I am quick-tempered.  Not nearly an ideal mixture.  But there you have it.  I am both reckless and secure.  Cold and standoffish, tender and charismatic.  I am painstakingly complicated and mindnumbingly simple.

I am a glorious contradiction.  I am marvelously constructed.  I am very different.  I am unique.  I am me.