Tuesday, May 13, 2008

This one’s for the girls…

Again, its music that is making me put pen to paper. Yes, strange as it may seem, I still write the old fashioned way before I type it in and post it up here. I was listening to Martina McBride’s “This one’s for the girls” and I realized something I have always known but never paid attention to… we need best friends. They may not know what your schedule for the day is and inadvertently call you during a meeting, or they may forget that you had this presentation the next day and wake you up just as you were falling asleep with a tidbit about how their day went.
However, they will never forget your birthday, your favorite color, what kind of ice-cream to bring with them when they come over to cry over a teary movie or a relationship gone wrong. And make no mistake, when you have to cry, they will cry right with you, letting you know all along that you are never alone, even if you might feel you are.
When you lose someone, when you need a shoulder to cry on and your significant other is snoring in blissful ignorance, when you need a hug to get rid of the day from hell… they are there, with a smile, a hug and just good fuzzy feelings that make you feel better no matter what.
These are the people that make life prettier.
I have grown up with boys as my closest friends my whole life, but they never penetrated my inner circle. We were the five who stuck together and high school was our best time ever. While other friends we knew were choosing boys over their friends and losing out on childhood best buddies, we grew closer. Boys made us cry and we turned to each other for solace, teachers drove us insane and we had each other for company, life got harder and we knew the other four were just a text message away. We were inseparable, in spirit anyway. Nothing could keep us apart then and nothing is going to now, except for visas and very expensive flight tickets anyway.
Yes, we are finally scattered across the globe, but I have said it before and I will say it again, thank God for the internet. We have chat, social networking and email threads to keep us in touch.
Since I moved out on my own I have made new friends and we have bonded over a lot of madness and sobriety that I will never forget or change, for the world. But nothing will change what we have or what we had. I love you guys.
This one’s for the girls!

Friday, March 14, 2008


The age old, boy meets girl. Maybe she drops her purse. Maybe he picks it up and hands it to her. Maybe they talk and end up getting coffee. Maybe they make friends, fall in love, lead long happy lives together.
Maybe they don’t. Maybe they fall out of love after a while, fall out altogether. Divorce. She gets the house, he gets the car. She gets the kids, he gets visitation. Maybe they don’t have kids at all.
Maybe they live together until one leaves for good. Maybe the other will mourn. Maybe they won’t.
Maybe they decide it doesn’t work and go their separate ways after a year or two. Maybe they stay friends.
Maybe, when she drops her purse, book or guard at the bookstore, he does nothing more than pick it up, hand it to her and walk away without another word, thinking, in the back of his head, “Maybe,” but no one will ever know.

... and they lived happily ever after!

The white knight rides up to the castle, defeats the dragon that has killed countless others, without a scratch, might I add, and then rides off into the sunset with the princess he has rescued. What happens then?
He is a man and she is, hopefully, a woman. There is going to be trouble, there is going to be mayhem and once the kiddies arrive, general chaos. Life in the ever after part of the fairy tale is a load of crap. There is no happily ever after. Maybe I am cynical. It’s my old age I tell you. At 22 I feel ancient. Being called an old soul does not help. You are 40 years my senior and a little drunk. How do you know who I am and what I think of the world? Also, if you do know, kindly keep your opinions to yourself. I appreciate your blinding honesty. I know I have worked a little too hard these past two weeks. You telling me I look like hell does NOT help. How in the hell did you ever think it would?
I digress, as usual, now where was I?
Ah, yes, the absolute crap that hallmark sells – the “happily ever after” Bah Humbug, I say. Do you think that every single person who has subscribed to this school of thought has never realized at some point, that they wish the white knight’s, freakin, blindingly white horse would just run over the smug bastard who has probably never had a bad hair day on account of being the damned white knight.
This is probably why I am still dating the princes of darkness that seem to cross my path with unfailing regularity. Then why is it that even they seem to be chivalrous enough to be there for you when the damned white knight is off signing autographs in fairy-tale land? (Shrek seems to have influenced my mental image of what the land of fairy tales might look like.) oh well. I guess they will do. But what do I do when one day I think I might prefer the chivalrous darkness to the blinding light that could just about overpower me?

That is something I think I will figure out in my own sweet time… and not a damned moment sooner!

Monday, March 10, 2008

A Letter to You...

I like late night conversations. The madness that results the next day from my sleepiness is just an added bonus to someone like me who just appreciates chaos where they can find it. I was told that there was this Greek Goddess who made it her immortal life’s work to cause chaos wherever she could. Now that sounds like the perfect job to me. I cause it even when I am not really trying. Can you just imagine what it would be like if I actually put in any effort?
Again, I digress. I do it all the time. It reinforces my mantra of chaos!
Back to the topic at hand. Late night conversations. I like them. I like having them. With you especially. We talk about everything from existentialism to the reasons for insecurity. From bad coffee to unexpected visitors at 6 a.m.
From embarrassments to crowning glories. Walnuts to Harry potter.
That seems to be the broadest spectrum I have ever come across. For a while at least. I have known you for just a while, however I find it so easy to tell you just about anything that crosses my mind. A friend said it is the rarest thing to find people you can be yourself around. I am glad I can be me around you. I hope you feel the same way. You get me. Mad teapot songs and all. I like that.
Its funny, how knowing someone for years, doesn’t necessarily mean that you can be completely comfortable around them. It might be your best friend. It might be your family. But then there are those few and far betweens, that you can just be around and not have to double check what you are saying. You can just be. Plain and simple.
Just be.

The Sleepy Teapot

I am a little teapot and I like it.
I am quirky and occasionally insane.
I enjoy it.
I am narcissistic. It has served me well.
It has made me appreciate me.
I am self obsessed.
I am upset when you don’t see it. I am not upset if you don’t like it.
I like being this person that no one has ever really figured out.
I like being me.
It’s who I am. It’s who I always will be.
Most importantly, it’s who I want to be.

One of those days...

Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.
This day has driven me insane and up the wall… not necessarily in that order. But I have a plan that would make an evil genius proud. Let the universe conspire against me. I shall conspire against it. Bwhahahahaaaa. Err ok… so that might be me overdoing it. Oh I don’t care anyway.
I have MPD and one of those people has OCD or so she has told me… many times. 
Then again, I used to think these mad bouts of mine were something to hide. Why? Because I was always wondering if it was ok to be a little crazy now and then.
Until I was told that this could be a trait that a few people might find not so bad. Nice even. And then it hit me. I was always so busy trying to be propah and all that jazz that I almost committed the biggest crime ever. Changing into someone else. Shudder in horror.
I want to be me again. I want to listen to music that drives my neighbours insane. I want to wear my ancient sweatshirt with Tom & Jerry on it and eat a tub of ice-cream while watching FRIENDS on tv. I want to yell at people being mean to the waiter at the restaurant.
I want to be who I used to be until I mistakenly thought I needed to change. Now I know I don’t need to do squat. I just need to be happy with who I am. That is not going to happen until I leave things be and stop picking apart my own thoughts, actions and reasoning behind it. I don’t need the reasoning, I don’t need the justification and I sure as hell do not need your approval or validation. So don’t wait around for me to tell you what you can do with it.
This is me. Deal with it. If you want to.