Consider yourself.

Written earlier.

It's midnight, and my leg feels better for the moment because I've been drinking. I called my parents tonight to update them on my trip, though I've been e-mailing my mom and updating the blog (which they neither know about nor read). I told them over the phone that Miss Gibson and I may go to the doctor tomorrow to see what's up with my leg. It's probably just muscle strain, but Miss Gibson wants to be sure.

So tonight, we had dinner and great conversation with her friend Niamh, a beautiful Irish woman I met earlier this week, at a restaurant that smelled like oregano. We spoke of a lot of things, of course; but, as the red wine continued to flow, we talked about relationships, the common problems with them and how low self-esteem and our own defenses can contribute to the problems.

There was no new, real insight, of course, but it was intensely conforting and interesting for me to see and hear that such issues cross cultures, generations and heritage. No one's got it figured. There are no rules to relationships and how to make them work. And people, regarding themselves, don't love themselves - in certain cases - near as much as they should. (Others, it seems to me, can love themselves too much, to their own detriment.)

It's a recurring theme in my life. And I don't know how much "better" I'm supposed to get.

Anyway, tonight I decided to think about it this way. The friend I have here is completely beautiful. The way she looks. The way she thinks. The way she speaks. The way she carries herself. I see it. I saw it in college, and I see it here. Others see it in her, too. They tell me so. But, if you remind her of it or point it out to her in a way that she hasn't before noticed, she's skeptical and suspicious. She doesn't believe you. Or doesn't seem to. It doesn't mean that they way I see her isn't true. And it doesn't mean, additionally, that her view of herself isn't correct.

People are too hard on themselves by about half, and they don't give themselves enough credit, which is a defense against pride, ego and bravado. It also allows them to protect themselves from possible harm, which can be a good thing ... or it can trip you up.

So, at dinner, I was sitting in London with two incredibly beautiful, bright, individual women. And both of them, if they heard me tell them that or if they read it here, would probably laugh it off, blush or think that I was being too kind or trying to sell them something.

In their shoes, I'd do the exact same thing.

Why is that? What happened to us? Did we stop seeking until we found what we wanted? Why are we wary of compliments and doubtful of good intentions? Do we not see ourselves as worthy or lovely? Even when we are. Even though we are.

Here on vacation, I am more at ease and, as a result, feel more like myself then I do when I'm home. I'm who I want to be here, and people have seen me - and liked me - for myself. I'm strong. I'm capable. I'm loyal.

I've been to a photo booth in a tube station twice, snapping portraits of myself because I like how I look and feel. I want to remember how I look, from the glasses to the half-smile. It amuses me. Rather than passively glance at an attractive man, I stare. Rather than gauging the right way to say something, I just say it. My voice changes. My manner changes. I think I even apologize less. I see myself as funny and capable. I get into near brawls if I think someone's threatening my best mate, and I try to hammer home for her that I'm here for her, filling space in her pocket until she needs me.

It's vacation, I know. But doesn't this feeling last for some? I want it to last.

It's not about fitting in or standing out. I see that here. I can fit in, as myself, because I choose to stand out.

I want it to last.