bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at an un-zeusly hour Tuesday, Aug 7 2007

It’s two thirty in the rainy morning and I’m home because that’s where I feel like I should be. I’m achy and sniffley and I keep thinking about two things: my interview tomorrow and a song I heard while driving tonight. Sidestepping the details of the interview because, you know, que sera, sera, the lyrics are something I can’t get out of my head. It’s some random country song I’ve heard a million times, and the general premise is that the dude is about to die but then he doesn’t, so he is singing about living life as though every moment could be your last. Very “make it count.” Anyway, the line I continue to replay is “I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter.” This is especially sound advice for me because of the general disposability of my relationships as well as my lack of control over my rather sharp tongue.

The long and the short of it is that I’ve had to change my entire group of friends quite a few times in my life, usually because my boyfriend’s friends become my own and when we break up, I tend to lose them in the division of assets. (I do always keep my dignity, though, which is much more important, I feel.) Because I’ve had to make new friends on so many occasions, my mentality has become that if I lose my friends (by horrible error on my part, elimination due to character flaws on their part, or merely circumstance), I’ll simply make new ones. This leads to very little attachment and prevents me from forming deep, loyal relationships.

The speaking sweeter concept is one to which I am foreign. I tend to be hardened, blunt; conveying my truth whether warranted or not. Compliments effortlessly escape my lips but are easily lost in my quest for perfection and propensity for casual judgment. As a rule I am overly kind to those I am fond of in my life but show little compassion for those whom I have already dismissed. In addition, my personality can be dreadfully intense, and therefore I often speak sternly and zip right pass sweet.

The world would be better if I amended my ways. I mean, not so much the world at large, but MY world, which is the thing I am to concern myself with anyway. Perhaps with unfathomable love and pleasant remarks, I wouldn’t be frustrated, furrow-browed and fully awake in the middle of the night.

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I find a fatal flaw/In the logic of love Saturday, Jun 2 2007

Is it weird to get a manicure and have them paint your nails black? The concept is counter-intuitive to me; you go to a professional because you are classy and want things done just so, then throw the world a curve ball when the “classy” look you crave is that of an alternative society. Then again, it’d probably be more alternative if the polish wasn’t perfect anyway.

It’s been raining here off and on for over a week. I spend my days perched awkwardly by my kitchen table attempting to make sense of the chaos in my life through words and music. It’s not particularly working. Sometimes I stare into space or tell a passer-by to leave me alone. I was hoping to find a coffee shop somewhere around here where I can set up shop and get some real writing done, but I haven’t gotten there yet.

I did have the treat of venturing out to a few bars last night. The only guy I talked to was named Craig and Craig is a 22 year-old little league coach who dropped out of college after one year and makes about $400 a summer. (I didn’t ask him how much it paid, by the way. He offered that all on his own.) After he gave me the summary of his life, I looked at him in disbelief that someone in his position (no education, no job) would be so honest and forthcoming with such details.

“You know,” I told him, “you could have lied to me and I would have believed what you said.”

“I know. I’m just not that kind of person.”

I’m sure he meant “a person who lies” but I translated that to “a person with no imagination.” I’m a champion for honesty, but it’s not like I was going to marry him anyway. Then again, why would he lie if, you know, I wasn’t going to marry him anyway?

It’s a tangled web we weave.

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Sex, Lies and (Hopefully) No Videotape Friday, May 25 2007

“The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off.” – Gloria Steinem

Some honesty has certainly pissed me off lately. I often pride myself on being candid and straightforward and all “never choose someone’s feelings over honesty!” But I’m not a monster and even I know that there are just certain things you don’t say out loud. Like, “you are never going to fit in where you’re planning to move” or “haven’t you gained some weight?” or, and here’s the clincher, “I told you for months and months that she and I never did anything sexual but that wasn’t entirely true.” The first two are just rude, but are you kidding me with that last one?!?! Like it was my ex’s job today to make sure that last little kick in the teeth really knocked me on my ass. And it doesn’t even bother me for the reason you think (well, a little bit for the reason you think – I do straight up hate the girl.) It mostly bothers me because we’ve had an understanding for damn near a year now where we spare each other these sorts of details and pretend it doesn’t happen. I HATE this particular system because I like to put things on the table so everyone can just get over it. Yet I’ve been withholding specifics out of respect. Apparently all bets were off today when he dropped a few bombs such as the aforementioned. I could have responded with a gamut of equally devastating facts and figures, but I didn’t. I still fucking didn’t. Am I too much of a lady to reveal such particulars? Nah, probably not. Am I too nice? That can’t be it. Please don’t tell me that I’m still in love with him, because my mother will have a heart attack.

You can tell me that I’ll never fit in. You can point out my extra pounds. But the details of a past lover’s sex life I can more than do without.

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Honest Jeopardy Tuesday, Apr 10 2007

So my boyfriend and I play along with Jeopardy every night. We keep score and everything. And he always beats me. Every round. Every time.

The thing is, we watch it on delay from DVR. This means I am sometimes home by myself when Jeopardy actually airs. Of course, I could go ahead and watch the episode ahead of time and not tell him. Even if I didn’t get every answer right, I’d still get way more than usual, which would be so awesome because it would wipe that smug “I know everything about history and science and London” look off his face.

But I don’t.

I don’t because I’m too honest. Because it wouldn’t be worth it to win. I wouldn’t feel smart. I wouldn’t feel like the Trivia Queen of the Universe. I’d feel shady. And because I’m so honest, I’d end up telling him that I cheated at Jeopardy, which not only makes me sound pathetic, but will make him ask me after every correct answer for the rest of my life if I got it right because I cheated. Which would make him more annoying (and probably more smug) than usual.

I’m so honest. And he’s so lucky to have a girlfriend like me.

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Buy me a room/With a pen and a muse Monday, Dec 19 2005

If there’s one thing you’ll never hear me say, it’s “honesty’s the best policy.” It’s not that I’m dishonest or condone lying, but more that I recognize there are times when biting your tongue and restricting that brutally candid person that lives inside of all of us is simply the better thing to do.

And yet, I, perhaps more than most, truly appreciate those in my life with whom I can be honest, and moreover, who I can present my true self to; I more than most because such friends are so few. As I meet new people, I often find my mind racing, skimming over all the elements that make me who I am and deciding what I should reveal in this moment, if ever. Should I tell them that I hated high school? That I’ve gotten my heart broken and that I’ve broken hearts? Is it necessary to mention that writing is my passion, or would it be wiser to simply mention my major and add that I “dabble” in writing? I’m not trying to misrepresent myself, but I am certainly not going to just lay it all out in one afternoon over coffee.

The dichotomy lies in the fact that I am endlessly interested in the truth of others. I want to understand you, hear your every thought, dig as deep as possible, often for your benefit as much as mine. I’m pretty sure that self-actualization is one of the keys to happiness.

And for a certain someone who may be reading this: You know that I am not at all interested in what you think I want to hear. Your truth is more interesting and thought-provoking and incredible than anyone’s I’ve ever heard. I like to think that even if I wanted a misrepresented sugar-coated version of you, you’d still come to me with your honesty, because that’s where you and I are at. You know I can always handle your truth, and I will love you no matter what. Best part: I can actually expect the same.

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