Prepare for vagueness. (kind of)
Because I like to write/blog, but do not exactly want to air ALL of my dirty laundry on the Internet, I've been trying for a few days to figure out exactly how to write this. Unfortunately, I have reached the end of my tolerance rope and need to get this off my chest (a phrase I've never actually liked).
I consider myself a smart person. I push myself to extremes. I refuse failure. I am a living example of that saying "if at first you don't succeed; try, try again" and there are few things it takes me more than two or three tries to get right.
HOWEVER
There is one aspect in my life where I continue to just — for lack of a better phrase — fuck up.
I have no idea what my problem is. Every time it happens I feel shitty. I mercilessly and relentlessly mock other girls for doing the same things.
What's my problem? Why can't I seem to learn from my mistakes? I know how these things are going to end. And yet ... BAM.
That's all I have for you guys. If someone knows how to fix me, let me know ;)
7.23.2010
4.13.2010
The curse of being a whore
If you know me at all (and since you're reading this, I'll assume you do) you know that there are a few things I can't stand.
But back to whores:
If you can't keep it in your pants, and people are getting hurt because of it: you are the lowest of low in my book.
However! It has been brought to my attention (several times) that I am a hypocrite ... because I, too, am a whore. Now, I don't go around having sex with lots of guys, and I don't break up relationships. You want to know why certain people call me a whore? They say I'm an I-love-you whore.
Really?
Yes, I do tell my family and friends that I love them. But you know what? I know what it's like to lose someone REALLY unexpectedly and wish you had told them you loved them.
When I was 17, my cousin, Tyler, shot himself. He was 21. We weren't super close or anything, but it hit me hard. That's when I started making sure everyone knew how much they meant to me. Had I ever told Tyler how much he meant to me? Had I ever told him how much I appreciated him teaching me how to play tennis or do a layup even though he was four years older than me and I was a complete loser? Absolutely not.
After Tyler's funeral, I made a phone call. I called someone I really cared about. I called someone I almost never talked to. I called another of my cousins, Keith. At the time, I was very close with Keith's brother, Matt, but he was just so much older than me, that we just rarely talked. But, I called him, and I left him a voice mail telling him how much I loved him and how happy I was he was in my life. It's probably the only time I ever told him. I know it freaked him out (Matt told me later), but I didn't (and still don't) care. Keith was killed in an accident while working on a farm a year and a half later (he was 22). And while that is tragic, and while it took me a lot of time to come to terms with it, at least I knew I had told him I loved him.
Two years ago, when Ryan died (a link for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about) my (then) writing coach and (still) friend Wendy shared something that hit me pretty hard. She said something to the nature of "tell all your friends they are your friends." (sorry, I can't quote it exactly.) See, Wendy gets it. Why can't everyone?
So, to those of you who think I'm an I-love-you whore (there's one person in particular, but I'm not going to call him or her out): What's the alternative? Would I rather get a little shit from you for caring about other people, or would I rather lose someone else unexpectedly and never know if they knew they were important? Um, easy. I'd rather get shit from you.
I don't care if I'm an I-love-you whore, and if you care so much ... why are we friends?
- Liars.
- Selfish people.
- People with no tolarance for someone who is different from them.
- A whore.
But back to whores:
If you can't keep it in your pants, and people are getting hurt because of it: you are the lowest of low in my book.
However! It has been brought to my attention (several times) that I am a hypocrite ... because I, too, am a whore. Now, I don't go around having sex with lots of guys, and I don't break up relationships. You want to know why certain people call me a whore? They say I'm an I-love-you whore.
Really?
Yes, I do tell my family and friends that I love them. But you know what? I know what it's like to lose someone REALLY unexpectedly and wish you had told them you loved them.
When I was 17, my cousin, Tyler, shot himself. He was 21. We weren't super close or anything, but it hit me hard. That's when I started making sure everyone knew how much they meant to me. Had I ever told Tyler how much he meant to me? Had I ever told him how much I appreciated him teaching me how to play tennis or do a layup even though he was four years older than me and I was a complete loser? Absolutely not.
After Tyler's funeral, I made a phone call. I called someone I really cared about. I called someone I almost never talked to. I called another of my cousins, Keith. At the time, I was very close with Keith's brother, Matt, but he was just so much older than me, that we just rarely talked. But, I called him, and I left him a voice mail telling him how much I loved him and how happy I was he was in my life. It's probably the only time I ever told him. I know it freaked him out (Matt told me later), but I didn't (and still don't) care. Keith was killed in an accident while working on a farm a year and a half later (he was 22). And while that is tragic, and while it took me a lot of time to come to terms with it, at least I knew I had told him I loved him.
Two years ago, when Ryan died (a link for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about) my (then) writing coach and (still) friend Wendy shared something that hit me pretty hard. She said something to the nature of "tell all your friends they are your friends." (sorry, I can't quote it exactly.) See, Wendy gets it. Why can't everyone?
So, to those of you who think I'm an I-love-you whore (there's one person in particular, but I'm not going to call him or her out): What's the alternative? Would I rather get a little shit from you for caring about other people, or would I rather lose someone else unexpectedly and never know if they knew they were important? Um, easy. I'd rather get shit from you.
I don't care if I'm an I-love-you whore, and if you care so much ... why are we friends?
4.11.2010
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