Hi, my name is Julie. I'm 19 years old. I live in a ranch house by the woods. Under my window lies three rose bushes. My Dad's out of a job. He's been out of a job for about a year now. It's okay though, this is like his 8th lay-off. This one's going a little rougher than some considering that there are no computer jobs up here right now.
I really do love walking on the beach with the tide pulling your ankles and your footprints being washed away, becoming memories.
Aside from some really close guy friends at different points I haven't had an official boyfriend for four years. Yeah, I've been suffering from bouts of "Itchy-Kissy-Lips" for quite a while.

Someday I want to get married. I attended my cousin's wedding shower yesterday. I met her husband-to-be and they're such a sweet couple! The house was crowded with young married women, babies, older mothers, single gals. I want to get married. One of the mothers let watch her cute blue-eyed one year old. He loved me, he gurgled and babbled about the wallpaper. I'm definatly built to be a mother. I have enough homebody skills (sewing, cooking, laundry, homeschooling, focusing on twelve things at once) to get by too.

I listen to lots of music and wish I could dance better to it. I can move my hips like any Hawaiian hula dancer (although I'm Irish and Swiss, go figure) but to dance like a Ginger Rodgers is my dream. Currently I'm overweight but losing it--little by little. My hair color is never the shade I'm going for. My skin color--meh, can't complain. At least I don't stay burnt and then fade. My hands...well, I'll get to that later. Right now they're a little too chubby for my taste.

I've never been to a shrink, I've never been to a psychologist, I've never had a real back massage (though God knows I need one!) and I don't have any problems. At least no one knows that I have problems--or maybe I don't like to let them know. You could call me a walking receptionist. I go around with this need to make sure that everyone else is alright. In the process I recieve all of their problems, guilt, ideas, everything, and sort of catologue it. For them it is a good thing, sometimes I think it's a good thing myself. After all, they feel more comfortable once they've somehow confided in me and I know that they now feel safe around me, so I'm more comfortable. The problem? Well, quite often I don't share back. Sure, there are some folks (namely three) who I am nearly completely open with. (You know who you are--one lives with me, one in the same town as me, and one in another country all together. Anyone else just gets bits and pieces of who I really am.)

It usually shocks people to realize I have problems too. I don't want to dwell on what bothers me though and when I do it's an out of the ordinary thing. Maybe I have so much trust in God that I don't think I need to worry about my issues. Then I realize that the way to let God work everything out is to work everything out with Him. This is also a problem. I'm not a confrontationalist. Confrontations, even nice ones, scare me. So I never address people who I have issues with. I let it slide, pretend like they're not being complete asses to me. But I consistantly become aggresivly defensive if someone else is being "abused". It takes a stress-filled week and a stranger throwing me on cement stairs to broil my brain to self-defence. You have no idea, I can verbally defend and reason my faith before getting myself out of a situation.

I'm a middle child. My Father's a kooky computer guy, my Mother's domineering, my sister's an artistic genius, my older brother is a socialite genius, and my younger brother is just a genius. I'm average. Every one of them can control the conversation in a group of twenty people (except maybe my younger brother). Me, no, I prefer quietly listening, drawing others out into the conversation. If a stranger won't be drawn out so I can listen I get uncomfortable and go listen to somebody else. I'm a safety net, people feel like they're interesting when I'm there. I do find people interesting (unless they beat a subject to the ground for half and hour and the subject is something like cleaning the dust in rugs). When they try and talk to me I will either manage (without thinking) to not talk about myself but someone else. There are times when I think I know others more than I know myself.

Unlike my family I'm not a comedian. Sure, I have my moments, but honestly I'm not a quick-witted, fast-talking person.

Sometimes I feel like I talk too much. Then other times I'm embarassed because I talked too little.

I'm addicted to artwork. Drawing is like a drug to me. It allows me to lose myself in the lines and colors of something that doesn't hurt me.

I hide myself in projects. Pruning rose bushes can consume a good two hours of my day. Roses are wonderful. You know where you stand with roses. Their thorns are big and red and there. They basically say, "It's your problem if you prick your finger on me, so no complaining." The same with the sea. When sailing it's you and the elements. There's no subtle emotional change you're trying to decipher. If it's raining, you change your tactics with the sails, if it's too windy you change something else. There's no back talk when it's you and the elements.

When people talk about me they say that I have a nice personality. That I am nice. "Gee, Julie sure is...Julie is...Julie's really nice."

"You're so nice. You're not good, you're not bad, you're just nice."

It sounds so petty, doesn't it? Nice really is different than good, though. I don't like being nice. But I do. It's safe, it's not terrible. I don't want to make others unhappy because of me. But sometimes I act mean. Sometimes I don't do what my parents want. I just shrug them off. Sometimes I act "nice" to people who I can't stand with a passion. You don't even touch me if I don't like you.

I have a phobia of people touching my clammy, unsteady hands...well, I used to have one. In the past four months I've been broken out of my fear by various people. They don't know what they've done for me, knocking down my barrier. And I want to thank them, but I haven't yet because I feel too shy.

I think about my actions too much. I think about everything, seeing messages in everything that I do and say that might offend others. Maybe that's what keeps me quiet--a fear of offence. The overbearing people in my life haven't helped me overcome that.

It always shocks me when people want to be with me. When they want to be my friend and hang out. For eight years of my life I went around as the brunt of every joke, the awkward geek of every group, a social outcast. Now the type of people who I never thought to even talk to want to be my friend and I don't know how to let myself accept that. But I don't want to push them away. I want to be with them too, so I go on silently berating myself again.

When I deal with guys that I like my first reaction is to push them away. "Don't let them know that you like them!" is my first reaction. I'm trying to break myself of that. It's another fear factor I suppose. Don't give them a chance to need to reject you. *shrugs*

But I'm only 19 and I have many many months before I'm 20. I'm still young and I don't expect all my problems to be solved right now. I do expect to be able to help fix other people's problems. Which is a problem of mine...

So this is me as a half nutshell right now. I don't love myself, I don't hate myself. I'm not really bad, I'm not very good. For some reason people like me, but I lose sight of that. And even though I've just posted a "self analysis" on this open journal there are a massive amount of details and personal nuances that I've conciously left out. Then there are things I haven't yet realized about myself.

Sorry if this was all terribly depressing. I'm not feeling very spiffy right now.