Introductions

Hey Everyone,

I say 'hey', although I know that most likely no-one will read this. And, if they do, they probably won't take the time to comment or anything. But that's okay. I'm not writing this blog for anyone other than myself, which is maybe how it should be. But I digress. Five sentences in and I'm already wandering.
Today I want to write down what this blog is really about. But before I can do that (hold the sighs, people) I need to talk a little bit about myself.

I could say that all my life I've been set apart, but that might not be the whole truth. A more accurate saying might be all my life I've FELT like I've been set apart, different. Sometimes in a good way: special, unique, gifted, smart--but also sometimes in a bad way--awkward, klutzy, "different" looking.

Over the many years, growing out of my painfully awkward puberty and gaining some much-needed thoughtfulness, I don't think I would trade being set apart for blending in. I won't go into detail about my childhood (perhaps later) but I feel like I'm better set up in most ways for being different.

One of the main aspects of my personality that has grown up through these years is perfectionism. What do we think of when we hear that word? Everything must be perfect. You'll work yourself to death trying to fix an unimportant detail. Anal-retentive. Frustrating. Takes forever to do anything.

Some of those apply to me. But in general, I feel I'm the worse kind of perfectionist. Oh yes, there are two kinds. The better kind is able to channel their perfectionism into hobbies, excelling at every one and persisting through any trial to come up with a high standard even they can be proud of.

The worse kind has the same instincts, the same standards, but a different work ethic, maybe it could be called. I'll start something with the highest hopes, work so hard at it, but then the minute something feels like it could go wrong or take a lot of work--POOF! Magical Mr. Negative-O appears. My personal failure coach.

"Wow, look at you? Feeling like quitting again, are you? Can't you finish anything? Look at all these successful, polished people around you with there lives under control. There must be something wrong with you if you can't even muster up the energy to put away your laundry. What are you going to do when you have to live on your own and clean a whole house? You failure. Why don't you just go downstairs, find the box of wafers in the top right hand shelf by the glass bowls, and eat yourself sick while watching cake boss reruns on youtube. After all, there's no point in trying anymore, is there? If you can't do it now you'll never be able to do this. And don't even think about starting something else. You don't have enough motivation to lift a feather with your toe. You're nothing but a lazy, fat, ugly, and annoying little girl and you'll never be anything else,"

I feel as though I must put a little context into this. I guess by most people's standards I wouldn't be a failure. From the outside, here is how I look:
-5'10", 130 lbs
-Dark blonde, medium length, wavy and thick hair
-Hazel eyes, a large-ish nose with a bump and regular lips {I guess. I think. I hope.}
-Has a good circle of close friends
-Nice, friendly after you get to know her, talkative {perhaps too much?}, generous
-Talented. Plays violin at the highest level there is {ARCT} and Piano Grade 10. Sings in a vocal jazz group, has perfect pitch, taught/will teach violin students. Is decent/somewhat good at art. Writes quickly and easily.
-Smart. Gets above 95% in all school subjects. Reads extremely fast, can type fast as well.

That's the outside. That's what people see. Maybe that's even what I try to project, or some of it at least. But on the inside--well--that's where my personal failure coach resides. I tend to not finish things I start. The reasons can sometimes be mixed. But Mr. Fail is definitely a big one. He is, I guess, most of the reason I'm taking up this blog.

I'm fifteen. The transition to adulthood, though it may seem far off to some, seems to loom closer and closer to me. I might stay in boarding school with my own room next year. And that is the first step. And I hope to get into an international school for the year after. Then I might be countries away from my family, continents even. And after that -- really and truly on my own. So really it only makes sense to begin preparing. To defeat my own personal inhibitions and learn what I can truly do. Planning ahead. Something I've always loved. This blog will document my struggles, hopefully my successes, and also my failures, as I set goals and experiment with new things on my journey to become the best I can be--and also to learn what perfect really means to me.

If you've read this far, I commend you. I only have one more thing left to say, and that is in regard to the name of my blog--The Fledgling Angel. I think that most of you have already figured out why I call it this, but I'll tell you anyways. One of my friends gave me the nickname of Angel. I can't really remember how, or, to tell the truth, why as I don't see myself as very angelic. {Another thing to strive for, perhaps?} But I like it. So, I've kept it. As for the fledgling part, well, that belongs to the journey I'm beginning into adulthood. Not a chick anymore, but not a bird either. A fledgling, perhaps one for too long, but who can blame anyone when the gap between the nest and the ground seems so big?

xoxo
Angel