Welcome
Welcome to my world: A world in which I am still finding my way and my voice; where the language is laced with dry humor; where stilettos and football games go together like peas and carrots; where happy hour starts long before 5; where I make mistakes, get angry and laugh my ass off; where I will never love anything as much as I love my cat; where no one knows your name and you like it that way; where comments are welcome and where strong women who fight for what they believe in are always adored.
Frankly,
On My Mind
Six Months of Short Sentences
Letter from my Father [Part 2]
My Greatest Fans
Brick Walls & Picket Lines
Kindred Spirits (Part One)
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Thursday, January 26, 2012
Dear Phantom, A Letter
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Kindred Spirits (Part One)
"I wonder what Piglet is doing" thought Pooh. "I wish I were there so I could be doing it too." ~ A. A. Milne
I
was told that I blog too much about sex, relationships, soulmates, not having sex,
dating, bitching about how I’m not having sex, or social commentary
relating to any and/or all of the above subjects. But as Carrie
Bradshaw and her cohorts so wisely taught us - sometimes your soul
mates really can be your friends. This past year that very concept has
rung true more than ever.
I met my best childhood friend on the swing-set outside of the red brick pre-school building on my first day of formal education. I sat there swinging next to her, gauging the height and overall swinging prowess and sizing it up against my own. She must have passed muster for I immediately jumped off the swing, ribbon adorned pigtails floating behind me, turned around and said “will you be my friend?”. The rest is history.
I met my best adult friend on a park bench bordering the National Mall while taking a break from our kickball game one hot August afternoon. She likes to say I was “sizing her up” (Apparently an MO of sorts before determining someone to be befriendable). A week or two later, our relationship blossomed over a night of crab dip, a chain-smoked pack of Marlborough lights and more than one bottle of Pinot Noir.* The friendship was sealed over the impulse purchase of airline tickets that would take us on a New Year’s adventure through Paris, Amsterdam and ringing in 2010 surrounded by kilts, whiskey and Scottish brogues in Edinburgh. .
I don’t know what she saw in me initially - but I saw in her a social, sarcastic, intelligent, independent woman adjectives I would eventually discover to be horrifyingly inadequate.
Its been quite the year for both of us. For me, its been a year of rebuilding, self discovery and above all, friendship. For her its been a year spent regaining her voice, making tough choices and landing on her feet.
I’ve held her hand during a nerve wracking medical procedure, she held my hand while I got a tattoo. She wheeled my crippled ass through Charles De Gaul airport and enjoyed the advantages afforded too a handicapped individual and their escorts. We’ve danced at rock concerts, shared the most honest opinions and the snarkiest of comments, hugged after romantic disappointment, yelled over misunderstandings, cried at movies, hashed and then rehashed the absurdities of life, scoffed at the impossible and consumed more mimosas and filthy martinis than I dare count.
A friend knows everything about you and loves. you. anyway. She loves me in spite of my aversion to traveling to her local venues in Old Town, my chronic lateness, the painfully slow pace at which I read books, my incessant need to fill a silence, my routine deletion of at least 75% of the pictures she takes of me, my ability to completely demolish a hotel room within 5 minutes of check-in, my thoughtlessness, my big mouth, my love of the outdoors & camping, my tendency to over-share, my horrific singing voice on road trips and my obsession with all things Harry Potter.
She’s a musician. She’s a teacher. She’s a student. She’s dedicated and fiercely loyal to her friends. She keeps secrets. She calls it like she sees it. She doesn’t smile until the P.M. hours. She’s known both abuse and loss and has come out stronger on the other side. She knows when to walk away. She has performed her original music at the legendary CBGBs. She loves horror movies but hates being scared. She’s up for anything as long as it doesn’t involve sleeping in the great out of doors. “Drinks? yes!” “Oysterfest, sure!” “Edinburgh via Amsterdam & Paris - why not!?” She’s, in equal measure, a lover of Opera and Ani Difranco. She’s unapologetic. She may take time to warm up to you but you’ll find that time well spent. She has a temper to rival that of any redhead. She has a guitar shaped tattoo on her shoulder. She hates eggs. She refuses to waste her time on people who “aren’t worth it”. She has an uncanny radar to detect the insincere, the hypocritical and the duplicitous and summarily shuns all such offenders. She prefers Converse All Stars to Vans. She has no idea how beautiful she is on both the inside and out.
She’s my Bestie and for that I am grateful.
Frankly,
*That was the last time either one of us smoked.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Admission of Guilt
Darling Readers!
I'm so sorry, but I'm just NOW realizing and reading all the comments and posts that you've left for me over the summer months expressing concern, and noting my absence. I'm so so sorry I haven't returned the favor!!!
The comments went into my 'spam' folder and I haven't been on the blog at all to see if people were writing - I just needed a break - thank you for not abandoning me as I did you.
But thank you SOO much for the notes! I'll be responding belatedly but shortly!
Frankly and with affection,
Monday, November 2, 2009
Rusty
By way of update - I've been sans personal computer for almost 2 months now and, as you might imagine, its a little difficult pouring my heart out onto a work computer which is currently my one and only gateway into the blogosphere but will try.
Currently trying to dust off, lubricate, de-rustify and re-build what remains of my writing skills....
Frankly, much like my leg muscles and their current lack of familiarity with the elliptical trainer, I'm afraid it may prove to be a painful though ultimately worthwhile process.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Insert More Uplifting Post Title
After much deliberation, and because today I feel like it, I have decided to start writing again. The thought of the poorly composed "pity party" scenario as my lingering size 9, designer stilletto clad, recently pedi'd, online footprint as too depressing to fathom. Therefore...
Sheepish wave "hello".
Remember me??
Monday, April 20, 2009
The Cut Off
I’m a lousy blogger, I know I know.
But you’re not going to get much out of me today either. Allergies are making my life miserable right now.
I had a date on Friday with a boy (and I’m purposely using the term ‘boy’- 26) who showed up looking like he just rolled out of bed: hair messy (and not in a sexy, controlled messy way – just plain messy), clothes completely rumpled …. Didn’t offer to buy my drinks!
Is anyone in favor of reserving the right to say five minutes into a date “I’m very sorry, I don’t think this is going to work out” and just leave? That was the course of action suggested to me post mortem by Sue Ellen. If he hadn’t been the little brother of a friend of mine…I would have. This is why I draw the age limit at 28 and even that may be pushed up at some point. Maybe I should just swear off boys in their 20s. What do you think?
Seriously – all I want to do today is lay in bed and moan.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Blue Brown Eyes
Do you ever have those days or weeks where for no particular reason, you just feel….blah??
It started last week – no particular reason – just a general …haze of monotony settled over my head. All of a sudden DC feels too small and leaves me feeling as though I’ve dated every man in it leaving me much less than impressed. General dislike of my apartment, my job, my hair, my skin – the only thing I AM liking is my ass as I’ve been trying to cure the boredom with excessive exercise.
I feel like my life is at a standstill – no direction – no momentum. The same food. The same bars. The same…everything. Not to mention that anyone within a 5 yard radius seems to have developed an amazing ability to annoy the crap out of me with alarmingly minimal effort.
And so I tried to shake things up – for instance, I went to my first opera at the Kennedy Center last week, which was lovely despite the fact that I went by myself which is less than ideal. Its no one’s fault, mind you – I didn’t ask anyone – but then again I didn’t anticipate the lack of variety in attendees and thus making for ho hum people watching. Geriatrics and hooker-fied 22 year olds on the arms of barely legal boys. Quite the combo.
I scored AMAZING DC United tickets for Saturday night – something I’ve never done before, which had pick-me-up potential. Until…wait for it…EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY FRIENDS was either out of town, or busy, had people in town or was otherwise engaged. I even went to THIRD TEIR friends! (note: if you actually KNOW me and you're reading this blog, you are NOT a third teir friend). The prospect of going to yet another event sans friends and surrounded by strangers was a little too much.
And with this extreme lack of joie de vivre, obviously I feel as if I have nothing spectacular with which to entertain you, dear readers. Which makes me sad as well and the prescription meds aren’t exactly filling in boredom, self-pity cavity I seem to have carved for myself.
Ugh – what a truly depressing post. Hopefully I’ll pick myself back up and be back to my generally chipper self!
*Cheers* <clinks glass> Here’s to hoping!
