Since it is the new year, I thought I’d make another [blog] resolution: To be more open.

Honestly, when starting this blog, I wanted to somehow reveal who I was while not entirely exposing too much. I thought my blog life should remain separate from real life, or just be selected abstractions from my real life. I’d speak about hair, art, film, culture, etc...the things that I found inspiring. Pieces of me and my personality. These things, I thought, could somehow convey who I am without really revealing who I am at the same time.

At first, I did not want to reveal my real name. But when people started calling me Kiffe, it just didn’t feel right. And more recently, I’ve felt an urge to share some situations that I’ve been dealing with, but felt too ashamed or too scared even to expose them.

It’s like sitting in front of a camera and looking directly into the lens, which I still have a hard time doing. Who is the person beyond this figure? It’s a choice. A choice I made consciously: To be real or go home. My mode of deliverance: writing.

I hate sitting in front of a camera because I hate my voice. I was never good at public speaking. I fear stumbling over my words or sounding stupid. I write then I speak. I am rarely pleased at what I see. I do dozens of takes because I don’t like the way I look or my self-convinced phobia of one eye surely looking bigger than the other. I am self-conscious, surely.

I never really thought I was beautiful, nor did I think I was ugly. I was ok. Just ok. I had troubled skin, troubled eyes and troubled teeth. I was a “tubby” child with big thighs. My theme song at family parties used to be “Brick House.” Dancing, clapping and cheering. High five for the big-boned-ed girls. I never was embarrassed.

Sometimes I feel tired and down, even though I consider myself to be an active person. Recently, it was brought to my attention (by my doctor) that I may have thyroid issues (an overactive thyroid to be specific). I have more testing to do this week and I’m sooooo not looking forward to it. It scares the crap out of me. (Damn me for trying to be proactive with my health, and getting a physical in the first place!).

So all of that aside: Hi, my name is Sophia and I am 25 soon to be 26 years old and I’m just trying to do what I’ve been doing since I was 14 years old. A promise I made to myself after 9/11: To record my life just in case the world ends. So when and if an archaeologist finds my journal he (she or ze) will know who I am.

And there it is... For now.

-Sophia