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cringe

I ran across a television show which literally caught my ears: the public access station was showing the tape of a karaoke event from another part of the city. Some of the participants were, well, horrid, and my initial reaction was to cringe in mild disbelief. But the longer I watched the tape, the more I found myself admiring everyone who picked up the microphone: if they were afraid, or self-conscious, it did not show, and they appeared to be having fun. I came to enjoy their sheer enthusiasm for singing all out, albeit a la Cameron Diaz in My Best Friend’s Wedding. And really, isn’t that why we ought to be doing things: out of the sheer joy it brings us?

I’ve lived with pitifully high levels of self-consciousness for so very long. I’ll become preoccupied with how others judge me, and adjust how I behave or look accordingly, only to be left feeling miserable and small. There are days — wonderful days — when I go about my business with nary a limited sense of self and my heart so free and serene and unaffected by the opinions of others. And then there are days when I wonder where that girl went and how I’m ever going to completely rid myself of the boundaries I have constructed for myself.

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