InsaneJournal

[public entry]
It's not often I sit down and write on this thing. Like, bare my soul or whatever you want to call it. Unlike some people, I don't have time to ramble on about how I think things should be or, you know, the state of the country/world today. Or my sex life, past and present. That's why I like Twitter. Well, it's good and it's bad. I have the immediacy of saying whatever it is I want to say . . . when sometimes, I should probably think twice before saying it.

So NOT the point.

Angie's back in New York. She's the size of the effin' Dora balloon in the Macy's parade. We all had dinner at Tango last night and she was in major pregnant-bitch mode. I couldn't stop laughing. It was just so damn adorable. She has this way of glaring at you that makes it impossible not to crack up. And I was sitting at the table and I realized . . . woah. This is the first time in a long time that we're all living in the same city. It won't last, 'cuz Angie'll pop the kid out and then go back to the black hole that is Seattle, but for the next couple of months? I get to have my whole family around again. And it's the first time we've all been together where I don't feel like the black sheep. Like I don't belong.

I might not be as talented or as smart as my sisters, but I'm still successful. Does it bother me that I'm making my living off of my looks? No. Someone's gotta do it, why shouldn't it be me? In the beginning, I definitely didn't see this whole modeling thing going anywhere. I probably do owe some of it to Angelina for sharing a last name with me and sort of opening a few doors that I probably wouldn't have gotten through otherwise. But even she could only have gotten me so far.

When I was a kid, I thought about being a teacher or an astronaut. Or an Olympian. When I decided not to go to college, I thought about trying to get into the police academy. Or becoming a stripper. I've never really known what I wanted to do with my life. I've never stuck with anything, I'll admit it. So some days, I wake up and wonder if this'll be the day it all ends and I have to figure out what I'm going to do next. Stability isn't my strong point.

But I think surviving is. Despite lacking the sense of direction in my life that all my sisters seemed to have from the second they popped their big-ass heads outta our mom's vajayjay, I've always gotten by. So maybe that's my talent. I can roll with the punches. If things don't work out one place, I'm able to move on without a lot of baggage or stress. Always have been. Is that a good thing? I don't know. It's worked for me, though.

Evan, in his infinite douchebaggery, said something a few weeks ago that made me think. Not because I realized he had a point, 'cuz he so doesn't, but if something happened tomorrow and I couldn't be a model anymore, I'd get over it. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do. I love everything about it. But if I couldn't do it anymore, I wouldn't die. I'd just . . . do something else. As much as I love it, I don't let it define me.

I'm not hot because I'm a model. I'm hot because I was born this way.

Just like you, Evan, aren't a dick just 'cuz you're a politician. It's who you are.