Thursday, December 13, 2007

Soulmate isn't even a word in the English dictionary.

My soul will know when it meets it's mate.

You can't look for love. It just comes to you.
Doesn't it?
Love never goes anywhere. It stays in the same place.

It just depends on when you find it.

I think.

I want to believe in soulmates... but if the word doesn't even exist in the dictionary, then how do I know that it's real?

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Happy Anniversary.

Twenty one years of life...

It's funny.
When we're young, all we knew is the grass and the sky; the crayons and paper; the milk and the cookies.

But that was enough.
A lifetime worth of knowledge--enjoying simple pleasures, and being simple people.

I keep feeling like I knew so much more at 10 then I do at 21.

I'm 21 and I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing, who I am, who I want to become and where I'm going to be. The anxiety is about to give me cardiac arrest at 21.

The older I get, the more things I seem to forget.
The older I get, the more lost I feel.

I feel like I've only started to find myself a year ago, and I just feel that I'm not exactly sure when I'm going to stop finding myself.
That's the terrifying part.
I don't even know where to start looking, or when to stop looking.
And what if I look so hard, that I miss it?

I want life to be simple again.
Grass stains and mud tracks.
Addition and subtraction.
Cooties and tag.

It was truly, so much simpler when boys had cooties.

12/08 is such a ridiculously important date to me.
Yet, today it just passed by... like any other day.
8 years ago, I met the boy that matched my soul, and for the first time in about six years I didn't spend today being melancholy or sad, and crying myself into dehydration and exhaustion.

Growth is good.
Maybe, just maybe that part of me is finally growing up.
I was 13 when I met him.
I'm 21 now.
It's about time isn't it?

My heart strings still pull when I think of him.
And I think of him everyday.
There hasn't been a day in the eight years of our history that he hasn't crossed my mind.
But I don't cry anymore.

I can't cry over our past, and I certainly can't cry about a present that is devoid of him, and it would definitely be a waste of time if I cried over a future without him.

It's not that I don't have any more tears left to cry...
It's just that I don't have any more time to waste.

I have so many other things to do and see, and eat and read and write about.
If he's really my soulmate then it will happen.
All on it's own.
Souls have a way of calling out to each other when they need their counterpart the most.

I believe that when we most need each other, our souls will know.
Isn't that what a soulmate is?
Fate, destiny, and sometimes serendipity?
I believe that souls can recognize each other.
Romantic or platonic-- souls that are destined to meet... will.

I love him.
I always will.
So here's to us baby--

Cheers, to eight years of love, hate, sadness, joy and life.
Happy Anniversary.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

I blame it on an excess of hormones.

He's probably one of the only people I know that can actually rub me the wrong way and make me aggravated and incredibly irritated. He's also one of the only people that can yell at me and reduce me to a sniveling mess.

He makes fun of me at least five times within the hour (within five minutes on a bad day), and he can make me feel ridiculously unintelligent. He's stubborn and when he thinks he's right, I can't even get my point across because he'll just shoot me down and make me feel like an idiot.

He sounds like a pompous, arrogant prick, no?
Yet, here I am.

I can list the hundred and one reasons why he drives me insane, and why I have every right to hate his guts.

Except I don't.
And THAT is what's driving me crazy.

He made fun of me nonstop tonight, and with one, full contact, 10 second hug, everything he said earlier was negated.
I sound so ridiculous because this is C. I'm talking about.
The boy who made my life a living hell for a number of reasons at different stages of my life.

I am not allowed to fall in love with someone who will ONLY drive me up the wall.
And yet, I can't seem to stop myself.

But here's the thing--

I'm going to.
Stop myself, that is.

The last thing I need... and want, is someone who'll consume me.
And I know that being with him will be like that.

It'll be passionate and over the top, frustrating and exciting, wonderful and scary.
And I can't have that if I want to survive the next eight years of my life.

I have eight years to make myself into something.
I can't waste anymore time on love.
I can find love in eight years.

So even if C. is meant to be the next great love of my life, I believe that he'll be around in eight years.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Dirty dishes; even dirtier secrets.

I was doing the dishes one day this past summer and I realized that there are three types of people in the world.

The first, is the type of person who just doesn't bother to do the dishes at all.
The second type of person is the type of person who needs gloves to do the dishes.
The third type of person uses their bare hands to do the dishes.

My roommate T. is type number one. My other roommate C. is type two. And me? I'm type three.

So what the hell does anything have to do with the way that we do dishes?

Well for one, I've noticed that the way we deal with conflicts is completely analogous to the way that we do dishes.

T. absolutely hates conflict. She will avoid it at all costs (much like avoiding doing her dishes); she would rather just ignore something and move on to something else.
C. on the other hand, can only confront someone when she's got a little alcohol in her system. When C. is drunk, shit hits the fan. And that is the understatement of the year my friends. She can only face dirty business under the aegis of alcohol, otherwise she doesn't even want to touch conflict.
Me-- well lately I've realized how much I like face to face conflict resolution. Make me a little teary eyed, but hey, at least you're yelling at me and telling me what's bothering you right now, rather than making me guess. I've realized how important honesty is to me. Give me my dirty dishes now, so I can wash them and put them away. I just don't have the time to put on gloves, or let them just sit in the sink.

I'm not saying of course, that my method is best of all three. Its sure as hell hurtful and it's hard to deal with when people are yelling at me, and I'm more than 1000% positive that I've said some pretty hurtful stuff in the heat of my ruthless ravaging. HOWEVER, I've figured out it works for me and I've realized how strong it makes me.

I've also come to realize how different the three of us are. We're all high school friends (and in the case of T. middle school friends), and I really didn't feel this huge gap in high school, but lately I've been feeling it a lot more.

Oh tough love-- I don't know when I became such an advocate, but god it feels good to be bitch.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

“I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.”S&C

Sex and the City is one of those bandwagon shows.
Except, this bandwagon show is geared towards those with vaginas.

I haven't seen every single episode, but it's definitely on my list of things to do before I die.
I love this show because of the sheer genius in the writing; albeit there's a lot of sex, and a lot of fluff, but there are so many instances where the writing is just so poignant and profound.
And by poignant and profound I mean that it's relatable.
Sometimes Carrie will write something, or Sam will say something, or Charlotte will go through a situation that those of us outside the realm of the completely fictional TV show can relate to. We've been there, we've seen that, we ARE these characters.

If I was to characterize myself as one of those women, I'd have to say I'm closest to Carrie.
Not just because she's a writer, but because she's a hopeless romantic, a closet optimist and a serial lover.
She's flawed (all the characters in S&C are) and I love that; because I'm flawed and I hate that.
Regardless, she's my inspiration for my new blog.

I'm an unfaithful, cheater... I just can't seem to pick a blog and keep it. I've had one blog since sophomore year of high school (which I have finally feel like I have outgrown), and about three other blogs that I started a year ago.
I'm really trying to change my cheating ways though.
So here's to hoping that I stay faithful.