A different kind of person (or How I am like my mother)

Dad's job as a geologist kept the family moving frequently during my childhood, about every year and a half or so.  Because of this, Mom (and all of us) had the chance to start freshly in introducing ourselves to new neighbors, playmates, etc.  I remember Mom saying, more than once, "I wish people would see me as an exotic, mysterious woman."  I, and probably my siblings, would laugh outright at this, because Mom was the most open, warm, welcoming, friendly, least exotic person who has ever lived.  I thought, and perhaps said, "If you want people to think you're mysterious, you have to act mysterious.  Hahahahaha, Mom, you're so silly."

So naturally I find I have exactly those same thoughts about myself.  I tend to be very animated when I converse, very lively, always trying to come up with bon mots and witticisms, taking spotlight, making faces, waving my hands about.  And what I wish I could be is serene, calm, relaxed, appear wise and mature and, yes, ever so slightly mysterious.  Hahahahahah, Granny Owl, you're so silly.

I wonder if everyone has the same fantasy of a different self, a better self.  And maybe the different sort of life which that self might live.  Maybe calm, serene people wish they could be more animated when they talk.  Maybe mysterious people wish they could be more open.  I guess this is sort of like the hair phenomenon: people with curly hair wishing it were straight, people with straight hair wishing it were curly.

I suppose I could take my own snarky advice and try acting more serene and wise and quiet.  I have my moments.  But that's not me.  I'm an emotional, expressive, funny, forceful person.  Ah me.  One lifetime is not enough.