Sometimes I embarrass myself. I should amend that statement because it’s not just sometimes. It’s frequently, in public, and usually in quite spectacular fashion. It’s not that I mean to be such a dork, but I just can’t help myself. I am not someone that can remain calm, cool, and collected when meeting those I adore.
As a teenage girl, I was completely irrational and melodramatic. I bought ridiculous teenybopper rag mags and plastered my walls with the fold-out posters found inside. I filled journals and scrapbooks with my overwrought emotion, sure there could never be another as great as whichever celebrity or athlete I fashioned myself in love with that week. I begged for concert tickets and collected ridiculous memorabilia. I fainted at an Atlanta Braves game.
I was a hot mess.
Growing older, I’ve learned to keep myself in check, sort of. I still wrap myself passionately and wholeheartedly into things I enjoy. I still find myself inspired by people I admire. I still DVR Tyler Florence on Food Network and have a bookshelf full of Chipper Jones memorabilia. I might have cried at a John Mayer concert, but I’ve managed to become at least a little more balanced.
While mindlessly browsing and trying to kill time, Facebook suggested a nearby event to me. It was a political event I’d attended in the past, so I gave it a second glance. When I saw the featured speaker, I immediately knew I had to be there.
While most people probably don’t find themselves completely freaking out over being in the same space as a politician, I have perfected the art of Randgirling.