At nineteen years old I have a great fear of lacking accomplishment. While friends blossom into globe trotters, privileged academics and social butterflies, often it’s difficult to see worth among the trophies. Self comparison is as evil as back pimples. And it don’t deserve your time!
Countless half-written notebooks and journals clog my shelf containing pages so vastly personal and hideously self-absorbed it’s a wonder my words spell out anything but my name encased in a love heart. The existence of this blog is hopeful evidence that I have evolved. We’ve all got a little bit of Eve Malone in us.
Existing in the 1990’s Maeve Binchy novel ‘Circle of Friends’, Eve is a petite and fiery and a little bit intimidating. Even as a reader I could imagine her strutting assertively through her hometown, gaining awed looks of respect even from the eldest and most disapproving of Irish citizens. Yet she has this urge to move beyond her realm, where she’s the one who’s intimidated, because the greatest sense of accomplishment is getting somewhere you thought you couldn’t.