Halloween Fun

This year was the first time I have ever dressed up from Halloween.

Weeks ago my friends and I were talking about how we were going to dress for the occasion. I heard so many sexy this or sexy that– totally not my style.  And since I grew up on Franklin, I’ve been there, saw that in terms of all the skanky chicks. It’s a bit overdone and I’m definitely over it.

But all the sexy talk got me thinking…

How about I take advantage of all the sexiness of my friends and go as a pimp? It sounded like a good idea at the time. I got to be sexy in an understated way. I got to play with wigs. I was fully clothed, thus staying relatively warm.

Unfortunately my Halloween didn’t go as well as planned. Why? I was so hyped about putting together my costume, dressing up, and going out, that by party time I was so sleepy that me, my wig, and my pimp cane could have gone to bed.  And my party partners were also rather tuckered out.

But we persevered!   We didn’t all just call it a night and go to bed.

Was Halloween a success? I don’t know. I tried to force it.  I tried to be a good sport since I put so much effort into making an effort but -in the end – I had to force it. And I probably should have stayed home.

Especially since the police shut down the party as we were walking towards it. At f-ing 1am. Sometimes Chapel Hill sucks.

I cannot wait to live in a place that knows that it wants to be a city and not some pseudo-village bull shit. Most cities would love to have 30,000+ people downtown eating and drinking and celebrating the city.  Not Chapel Hill. It is actively discussing ways to ask all those dollar spending people to take their dollars somewhere else.

Dear Chapel Hill,

Thanks for ruining the last Halloween of my extended childhood. I hate you today.

Signed, Monica

 

Different strokes for different folks

Yesterday I got paid the most awesome compliment. Last night my girls and I went to an after-work social mixer and some guy told my friend (I paraphrase)

Monica has a super awesome personality and such a spectacular positive attitude

He also said some other stuff that I can’t remember, but he pretty much he recognized my complete awesomeness and we had only talked for a few minutes.

People often recognize my awesomeness right off the bat. They can’t help it, my awesomeness seeps from my pores.

Some people don’t have it so easy. For some, it is not the case that their coolness is on display for the world to see. Sometime cool is a little deeper below the surface.

Some people actually get better with time.

I met someone recently and I remember that during the initial conversation I remember thinking, “This blows. Just keep nodding and smiling and get this over with as soon as possible.” It was horrible. It made my head hurt. I even got a little dizzy.

Luckily, I was forced to interact with that person again, and in time I realized that that they weren’t the weird lame-o I thought they were.  They were funny and relatively cool. And I never would have known that had I not been forced to continue interacting with them.

Some people need time to warm up.

Everyone can’t be super f-ing awesome right from the beginning. (I mean, then everyone would be as cool as me.)

Maybe it’s shyness, maybe it’s nerves, maybe my beauty is intimidating, or maybe they just gotta get comfortable and find their rhythm. All I know is, I almost missed out on something really cool because I was ready to write this person off.

Usually I’m pretty good about distinguishing lame-oes from the shy, nervous ones. I’m usually a great judge of character, but this time, my impatience got the best of me.

Oh, well. I never said I was perfect. But most times I can tell. Sometimes I (and you) just know. Sometimes people are idiots.

And all the warming up, all the forced interaction, all the patience  in the world doesn’t change a thing.

Some people just suck.

I have been friends with someone for YEARS and 6 times out of 10 they make my head hurt. I believe s/he is a complete moron, they are negative and they sometimes just aren’t fun. I am totally convinced that suck-i-ness is just a part of her/his personality.

And still we remain friends. I get some enjoyment out of this person in spite of the suck-i-ness.

However, there are times when there is no enjoyment, no happiness, no light to be found. And that’s when I throw in the towel.

Some people are complete assholes

I know this guy who is the most horrible person. And he pulls women like rabbits out of a hat. Then when he gets these beautiful, professional, intelligent women where he wants them, he treats them like sh*t. He cheats, he manipulates, he uses.

And still he has so many hangers-on. Every time one women gets some sense and leaves, he’s got a revolving door of lovelies just waiting to fall in line.

I hate him (b/c he’s an @ss) and I’m jealous (‘cause these women are GOR-GEOUS).

My point?

Bottom line; there are a lot of people in this world. Some of us are more than means the eye. It’s important that we seek out (or at least watch out for) these oft overlooked gems.

But there are some unfortunate souls who look good on the surface and are rotten underneath.

Some people might like @ssholes. To some, the rotteness, idiocy or just plain boring-ness that I see might be just what the doctor ordered.

I don’t get it, but there it is.

Every day I learn something about the other homo sapiens who roam this planet.

This weekend, I was just reminded that you can’t judge a book by its cover. And like I told somebody (one of the times this weekend when I was running my mouth)  this world, it takes all kinds. Even the @ssholes.

 

Conversations that make me yell and roll my eyes

A super cool older (but very sexxy) lady that I know recently started dating again. She’s been “dating” this one guy for a few months now (maybe longer) and she has a lot of questions about what is good, bad, and appropriate behavior. And she asks me for advice. Which tickles the sh*t out of me.

She, like a lot of women, is scratching her head trying to decipher male behavior. And the more I yell at her to stop, the worse she gets.

Conversation one:

Her: I was talking to some mutual friends of ours and they were saying how cute his son is. They asked me how I liked his son. And I had to tell them I haven’t met him.

Me: Do you want to meet his son?

Her: Not really, I just want him to want me to meet his son. I don’t actually need to meet him.

Me: So you don’t want to meet the kid? You were just feeling some kind of way for being excluded?

Her: Yeah. And why doesn’t he want me to meet the kid?

Me: You should ask him.

Her: You’re not helpful.

Conversation two:

Her: Do you think he likes me? He does a, b, and c  things that make me think he likes me, but then he does x and y which makes me think he doesn’t.

Me: Well there is no template that says he has to do any of those things. Do you like him?

Her: I mean we are great friends, we talk on the phone a lot, and we see each other often.

Me: So you like him?

Her: I don’t know. I want to know if he likes me.

Me: Then you should ask him.

Her: Or you should just tell me.

Me: I don’t know! I’m not him!

Her: You are not helpful.

Conversation three:

Her: I wanted him to know that I was thinking about him, but I didn’t want to talk to him so I left a message on his house phone, even though I could have reached him on the work or cell phones.

Me: Why would you do that? You could have just had a short conversation, and gotten off the phone. Both of you were at work. Who are you trying to fool with that mess?

Her: That’s what he said. He said that I send mixed messages.

Me: You do. You are insane.

Her: Well I don’t want to get hurt.

Me: I know, but if you like this guy you have to be real. You can’t be playing games.

Her: I don’t want to talk to you about this anymore. You always take his side.

Conversation four:

Her: I don’t understand. He came to (this event where he wasn’t expected) and he was so nice, but when I wanted to introduce him to the family, he was a little standoffish. But then he came over and hung out with all the family (@ another event) and stayed all day.

Me: Yeah, he acted like he really belonged. Everyone seems to like him.

Her: What does that mean?

Me: I don’t know. He seemed really comfortable, even when people asked him what his intention what with you. And said other things to embarrass him.

Her: I know. What does it mean? Why did he hang out all day?

Me: I don’t know, what don’t you ask him.

Her: Humph. You could just tell me.

Me: I am not your man! Ask him why the hell he stayed at your house all day talking to your family, and *ish. I don’t know why.

Conversation Five:

Her: We aren’t dating. We’re just friends.

Me: Sure you are.

Her: What do you mean?

Me: I think you two have been dating. You may as well call him your freaking boyfriend.

Her: What is dating?

Me: Do you talk most days a week?

Her: Yes

Me: Do you all go out/hang out together/ever in each other’s presence for social reasons?

Her: Yes

Me: You are dating.

Her: But how do I know that for sure? I’m too old for this!

Me: Ask him or shut up.

Conversation Six

Her: I wonder if he is seeing other people?

Me: Have you talked to him about that?

Her: No. Why should I?

Me: Because you want to know.  I mean, it makes since that you are concerned about the status of the relationship.

Her: But we are just friends. I don’t care if he sees other people.

Me: I don’t believe you. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have said anything about it and we wouldn’t talk about this man 4 times a week.

Her: Well. I’m not mentioning it to him. I’m married to Jesus.

I could go on like this for days, but I think you get the point.

Lessons 1: Communication is key in relationships. I understand that wanting to talk friends/family about problems/issues in a relationship, but dang it. Sometimes your friends and family don’t have the answers, and you gotta just go to the source.

Gotta question? Ask the person you are relating with. Don’t understand something? Ask them to clarify. Confused? They probably are as well. Having a feeling? Tell them about it.

Lesson 2: There are no f*cking rules to dating. Relationships are what you make of them. And since most of us had HORRIBLE relationship role models in our parents, we are all on our own, anyway.

Lesson 3: Dating doesn’t get any easier as we get older! Men and women never learn how to talk to each other (and gay folks, you know we all have our own special issues). Hurt feelings is ageless and sexless. Old daters are still worried about hurting each other and getting hurt. So be straightforward and upfront about your wants and needs, and expect to get them met. If your “other” can’t/won’t meet those needs, then walk.

Lesson 4: You can call it whatever you want. Dating is dating. If it looks like a duck, talks like a duck, smells like a duck, then it is an f*cking duck and no amount of denial can change that. Get over yourself.

Ok, now I’m done. And I have a headache from all the screaming and eye rolling. Going to bed.

 

Dating Sucks. Here’s a funny story

Earlier this week, I got a text message from a friend asking me to come over and help her get dressed for a date.  We’re adults, you say. Why did she need my help, you ask?

This wasn’t just a date. This was THE date. This was the first date since she left her asshole, cheating, going to hell in a hand basket, bastard of a boyfriend.

 (Can you tell how much I hate him.  Full disclosure: I hated him from the moment I laid eyes on him 7+ years ago and I told her so. I am a great judge of character, btw.  ) But I digress. 

Back to the story.

She’s out of practice, a little unsure of herself, and in need of someone to take charge of the preliminaries. Like the super, awesome, best friend that I am (patting self on the back) I went over to her bachelorette pad to oversee the process (I am an MPA). 

It was my job to pick out the outfit, the jewelry, etc.  Most importantly, it was my job to dispense with the wise sage advice, tell her how awesome she is, tell her that there are no f-ing rules for dating; and she should have sex if she wants to, provide general moral support, and be the mother hen.

(That’s my role, its what I do.) And I rock at it!

This proves that I can do anything. (employers, take note).

I am not a dating expert. In fact, I know next to nothing about dating. I have been on exactly one date in my entire life. (or maybe two if I’m feeling generous).

I’m going to tell you about my one and only date.

This is some funny *ish. (At least in my mind, anyway)

While in college I worked at a fine dining restaurant. (Thanks, R, for getting me the job) It was an awesome restaurant, and a really good place to meet all kinds of wealthly and/or business people. (my favorite kind of people).

As a hostess, it was my job to be beautiful, flirt, and make sure that when people sat down to eat, they did it with a smile, even if they had to wait 2 hours for a table. I was an excellent hostess.  Customers loved me, I could make even the most stuck in the mud grin.

Anywho, one night we weren’t very busy and this rather random guy starts up a conversation with me at the hostess stand (where were my fellow hosti to bail me out?!?!?!) Somehow the conversation turns to seafood- and at the time, I had never eaten lobster (give me a break- I was 19, from the country, and the extent of my seafood education was fried fish, shrimp cocktail, and jambalaya).

Anyway, this guy is going on and on about how he wants to introduce me to lobster. And I am totally game. He was pretty cute, could hold a conversation, and seemed just a little dangerous. So I give him my number.   

We plan to go on date.  The day of, I was really nervous. I had never been on a date before. Don’t get me wrong, I had gone out, a lot. But all my previous boyfriends had been guys that I knew from school, and there was always a courting period where dates consisted of the guys coming to my mama’s house and sitting and chatting. (I heart my over-protective mother)

So dating those guys didn’t count. They weren’t new. There was no pressure.

But going out with this guy was different. I didn’t know him. There was tremendous pressure to be pretty, to be a conversationalist, to not appear to be a country bumpkin. So I was, understandably, nervous.

A friend, bless her heart, made sure that I looked appropriately sexy, not slutty, made sure that I looked like an adult- not a teenager, calmed my nerves, and sent me on my way.

Guess where this man, this special man who wanted to introduce me to lobster, took me for our date?

Red F*cking Lobster. I kid you not! I giggled (in my head) when he told me.

This man had the total inability to let a woman (any woman) walk by without trying to make eye contact.  I don’t remember any of the dinner conversation probably because I wasn’t listening. I was having an inner-monologue about how the hell was I going to get out of this date.

But I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.

He asked me to pay for half. The f*cker. And because my mother, just before this date told me to be prepared to pay, God, love that woman, I had the cash to contribute.

Then we leave Red Lobster, and go to my restaurant. He also wants to teach me how to smoke a cigar, and my restaurant has a cigar lounge.  So we go, and the night gets better, mainly because my people are all there and I have an audience while I (unsuccessful) smoked a cigar and drank scotch. (Remember that I’m nineteen, right, all my co-workers conveniently forgot this fact.)

Afterwards, we go to Barnes and Noble (the most randomest date ever, I know) for coffee. He, so gentlemanly now, pays for my latte. And we have a discussion about American vs. European cars. Speed, turning radiuses, handling, etc. (more stimulating that one may think, I love cars.)

I want to beg off at this point, but he wants to see my dorm room. (hee, hee) I sneak him in, and let him know up front that my room is a mess. I was getting over a cold, and the tissues that I would use in my bed would find themselves all over the room, where they stayed. I was too busy to clean them up, and I lived alone, so I didn’t care.

He took one look at my room, asked for a broom and a vacuum, and preceded to clean my entire room.  He made the beds, swept under the beds, threw out my dirty tissues and other trash, organized my books and papers, vacuumed and washed my dirty dishes.  

I told him he was awesome, gave him a hug, told him I was sleepy and sent him on his way.

I found out the next day that he didn’t pay for the scotch at my restaurant, and I had to pay for it. The f*cker.

The funniest part? That actually wasn’t the last time I saw this guy. And all the stories are as mind-boggling as this one. Why did I continue to see him?

He was entertainment. And I was bored.

Hope you’re laughing. Happy Friday!

 

What the hell happened this weekend?

I’m serious.  Several questions: Did weirdo aliens take over Raleigh? Have club behavioral norms changed? Am I just that dang sexy?

This weekend I when out with my girls on Friday and Saturday night.  It was the Shake Yo @ss weekend. The SYA weekend is something that goes down every few weeks.  I use it to make sure that:

1. I get some exercise in

2. I get to see my friends

3. I get to party like a rock star with my entourage

So, in celebration of the SYA weekend, I went to a First Friday International Dance party, ’cause I love brown people. It was an interesting mix of people. In Chapel Hill international must mean “being of latin american decent.”  With a few Asians and Morrocan people sprinkled in.  The party was fun.  Mostly.

Let me explain.

I object to the musical selections.

There was a tropical music room. (Love it.) There was a salsa music room.( Eh. All couple dances) There was a hip hop room. (Eh. Lame) There was something missing. Something Important.

They didn’t play any reggaeton! WTF? How you gonna throw a latin american party without reggaeton?  How do you play American rap (and bad rap, at that) and not play some hip hop that originated in spanish/hispanic/latin locations.  I mean, Reggaeton is in Spanish!  I was a little pissy about that omission.

On Saturday, I hung out in Raleigh because my girls and I wanted something more upscale and GROWN. It was off. It was sooo weird!

First, it must have been scanky stripperella night and no one told us. I saw too much unrequested ass.  I mean, women with their thongs out, with their booty cheeks getting cold in the air.  Basically looking a hot ass mess.

In one club I walked in the first thing I saw was a woman bend over backwards with her dress around her neck, and her forest green thong pressed into a man.  I remember thinking, where the hell am I? Did I wander into an alternative club? No one else in the club was dancing, they were too busy gawking.

And that was a lot of what was happening on Saturday, folks (myself included) gawking at women giving table dances/ peep shows to everyone in the club.  And I didn’t even GO to a strip club.

D*mn.  And the men have been worse than the women.

Something has been wrong with all the men that I’ve danced with all weekend.  I feel used.  I feel like a masterbatory tool.  None of the men all weekend wanted to dance, at least not in the sense that I ususally dance. They just wanted to use my body to help them get off.  And that is gross.  And sooo not my style.

With every guy I danced with all weekend, I had to run away, wipe myself off, and tell them I was too tired to dance because I was too embarassed to tell the truth.  I should have said, “I’m sorry, I can’t dance with you anymore.  I’m worried that I might get pregnant from the activities that your body is doing in proximity to my body. I must step away from you now. Goodbye.”  Ew. Gross.

I HATE being ground on.  That is not dancing! I am not into having love in the club.

And I blame women for letting men think it is ok to behave that way. Shame on you, bitches! I hate you.

What happened to all the normal people that usually populate Glenwood Ave clubs? I beg you, please come back, normal people!!!  The clubs were full of lames, weirdoes and ugly people.  I felt incredibly out of place.  Like all the cool people left me a voicemail that we were hanging out somewhere else, and I just forgot to check it. (next time guys, send me a text)

Lessons for everyone: Do not ruin Shake Yo @ss weekend for me ever again. Clubs, always play reggaeton. Men, no peni on me, ever. And women, keep your f-ing clothes on, unless you are getting paid to take them off.  Have some mystery about yourself, dammit. And if the Lame-os are taking over the clubs, someone tell me so I can stay home that weekend.

 

Being Thankful is Sexy

My name is Monica and I am a complainer. I’m also a worrier. And a cynic. I have very little faith (in anything). And I can get really anxious (I think I get worked up with all the worrying.)

For almost a year now, I have been trying to counteract my tendencies and put a little good ju-ju into the atmosphere. Because if The Secret is right, then I’m attracting tons of negativity.  And that’s bad.

At least 3 nights a week I try to make a list of all the things I’m thankful for.

My thankful list is generally kind of random.  When my brother was in Iraq (twice!!) my thankful list consisted of 1. Being thankful that a member of the Army didn’t show up at our door with bad news. 2.  Being thankful that my brother would wake us up in the middle of the night with a phone call from the other side of the world.

Nowadays, I’m just thankful when I can find a parking place. Or that when I cut all my hair off I still look like a girl.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been adding another layer to my little ritual.  I’ve been asking for things that I need.  I’m not sure what I expect, but supposedly, when you put good stuff into the Universe, you get good stuff back.  We get not because we ask not, and all that jazz.

We’ll see.

So, I’m going to share with you, some things that I am thankful for.  And the gifts (or blessings, whatever) that I’m asking for.

1. I am thankful that my baby sister is enjoying school and life in Atlanta.
2. I’m thankful that my brother is still in the States, and not in the Middle East.
3. I’m thankful for my relationship with the gf.  It (she) has taught/helped me to rediscover some things about myself that I either denied, forgotten, or was unaware of.
4. I am thankful that my mother calls me almost everyday because she wants to know how I’m doing and she just wants to chat.
5. I am thankful that my friend, R, is finally taking care of herself and putting herself first in her own life.
6. I am thankful for friends.  Not too long ago, I felt really alone.  I don’t anymore.
7. I am thankful that I’m in grad school.  3 years ago I worried that no respectable program would have me.  But I’m in one of the top 6 programs in the country. Go figure!
8. I’m thankful for positive role models (especially relationship role models)
9. I’m thankful for the beauty, the rhyme, rhythm and the symmetry that I find in nature and in life every day.
10. I’m thankful for the passion that I feel inside myself.  It still surprises me sometimes.
11. I’m thankful for my super awesome job and totally cool boss, and my groovy co-workers who invite me to parties
12. I’m thankful for my classmate, aka, drinking buddies.  They rock my world.

And one to grow on: (I will not number it 13). I’m thankful for my little Toyota Corolla that gets 30 MPG and takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’

Now for the things that I ask for….

1. I ask for the strength to do all the things that life demands (waking up, speaking up, being present)
2. I ask for guidance to know where and on what I should focus my time
3. I ask for the courage to be the person I know I am.
4. I ask for confidence in myself-I need to trust my intuition
5. I ask for the right words at the right time
6. I ask for help getting through the next two hellacious weeks of school
7. I ask for my dream job
8. I ask for health and safety for my family and friends
9. I ask for the ability to not be constantly distracted by everything
10. I ask for focus
11. I ask that it doesn’t rain while I’m walking outside.
12. I ask that I don’t hit/get hit while in a car or walking on the street.

What are you thankful for?  What would you like a bit more of?

 

Out of Sorts today- the quarterlife crisis continues

I had a phone call with a wonderful friend today. We talked about growing up and how much it sucks.

We talked about how we used to have these really grand, wonderful dreams and how we’ve gotten sucked into a semi-crap lives that are not at all like we envisioned.

We talked about how people can and will disappoint us and sometimes some things are just not meant to be.

We talked about how most of us (myself being first in this line) don’t really know ourselves and must rely on friends for a reality check. We talked about being afraid to really get to know ourselves because we might not like/recognize/be scared of the person that we are.

We talked about how we don’t always feel like the person looking back at us in the mirror. We talked about not knowing how we got this far from ourselves.

We talked about taking risks, and feeling out of control and slinking back into something more comfortable and safe. And about how this is so wrong and how we should stop this behavior. We don’t want to be normal, and we are afraid that we are.

We talked about vulnerability and about allowing ourselves to feel the spectrum of emotions and how, when you FINALLY let yourself feel anything and God forbid, analyze those feelings, it can be incredibly overwhelming.

We talked about being true to ourselves and how we only have to live up to our own expectations. We talked about how hard it is to be our authentic selves, especially when you are used to putting the needs of others before your own or you’ve lost yourself in a situation, or you’ve forgotten what’s important. And rejection is oh so hard to deal with, especially when that whole “feeling” thing is still a pretty new concept.

We talked about how I tried to spend some time last night meditating on what I want out of life and what I should do to get there, but instead I fell asleep and didn’t wake up with any revelations.

We talked about starting over and doing what the hell ever it is that we really want.

We are going to do it; step by step, little by little. And we are going to hold each other accountable . We are better than who we have become (I don’t think I just made that up, but damn if I don’t know where I got it from)

Raise your glasses! To jumping into the abyss and following our dreams….where ever they take us.

 

Sex and the City(briefly) and why friends matter…a lot

For the past few weeks I’ve been having a few conversations with one of my friends who has been having a hard time in her romantic relationship. Often when we talk and I give her advice or give her a different perspective on her situation or just tell her what I think or what I would do, I think to myself, Self, am I really the right friend that she should be talking to?

Also, I have often in my life been called upon to give advice to my friends, and I would do it, almost off-handedly. I guess, the older I get I appreciate the responsibility and the trust that comes with being the confidant to my friends and loved ones.

Anyway, I asked this friend if she thought that I was her best option of friend to talk to. I told her that I felt a little unsure because the reality of how over the top I would act is so different to the way that she is choosing to handle her situation and I was worried that my advice may not be the best for her. She reminded me of an important lesson. Basically she told me that in times of need you the people that you need are those that you can be your truest self with. And, for her, I apparently am that person. Which makes me happy.

In this situation and in others where my friends come to me for support, courage or just a listening ear I often feel inadequate and at a loss for words. In those times, I take a deep breath, look into myself and pour myself out to them, sometimes I use kindness, sometimes tough love, sometimes logic or mothering, basically whatever I think is going to work for that particular person at that time. I think that is why my friends keep me around. They know I always give them my best, I keep their best interest in mind, and I never misplace their trust.

I think this is why women love Sex in the City. In the shows and in the movie, once you get past the beautiful clothes, shoes, purses and men, what you are left with are your girls (or your boys) and your alcohol. And we know how important alcohol is to me.

Sex in the City highlights the importance of a woman’s friends. Men come and go (ahem, Mr. Big) but your friends will be their when the smoke clears to wipe your tears and glue your heart back together. Think about it, in all the good times and the bad times, through death, loneliness, heartbreak, new jobs, promotions, weddings and divorces, who were always in the place? The girls.

I loved how those four women were always there for each other. They each had their own lives but wherever life took them, they always made a point to stay together. They gave me hope that no matter what turns my life took, I would be able to call up my girls (or boys).

Sometimes I think women forget how important their friends are when they are in relationships. We forget how sometimes, only those people that have been through the trenches with us can make us feel better. In Sex and the City, those ladies managed to balance work (they did work, right), husbands, boyfriends, babies, all while wearing f*ck me pumps and miniskirts. If only it were that easy in the real world.

I love my friends, and I put in a lot of effort to maintain my friendships. Balancing love, work and friends aren’t always easy, especially as so many of my friends live so far away. Anyhow, my friends are the coolest. I have my friends that I constantly text all week, my once or twice weekly phone conversation check-in friends, I have my myspace, facebook, gchat all the time commenting/messaging friends, my let me call her all the time and any time friends, my let me call her since I have a long drive in front of me friends, my Friday lunch date friend, my school friends that feed me steak, my friends that I talk to 2-3 times a year friends and my if I want to throw a party I’m gonna call ya’ll because ya’ll just sitting at home if you aren’t with me friends and….. my very special I’m in love with my best girlfriend friend. And my life would be soooo empty without all of them. I need them, they complete me.

So, call up your girls (or boys), tell ‘em your sorry if you’ve been an asshole, give someone a hug (or buy them a drink) let them know how important they are in your life. And to all my girls (and boys) Ya’ll are the bestest that a girl could have.

And if you threw a party and invited everyone you knew, you would see the biggest gift would be from me and the card attached would say THANK YOU FOR BEING A FRIEND!!!!!!!! (The Golden Girls)

 

Blind to the wonderfulness in front of me…

Ok, so I suck. Really, really bad. And thank you to my readers (all 5 of you, lol) for putting me very firmly in my place. This is why I love you and we can all be friends. My life is not horrible. My life, on any day other than moving day, is quite lovely. And here’s why:

· I have the bestest friends imaginable that get me into all kinds of trouble , and have no problem telling when I’m being severely stupid (I love you, Molly and Christy!!!!!)

· These wonderful friends also remind me that, yes I am a super cool chick! I sometimes forget about that (Yay for Rachel and Sarai!)

· I have a girlfriend that cares enough about me that she worries when I get so dark and down on myself. I love her for that. And she pushes me to be the best Monica ever.

· I am in a wonderful graduate program that is like 4^th in the nation for local government management (still am shocked that they let me in, lol)

· My program is chock full of characters that make my day every day in some way. Like when they send me text messages that say not to come to class because is would be a waste of my time feed me steak and give me a place to sleep when I’ve had too much to drink.

· I can afford to still put gas in my car, hell, I can afford my car and it runs well

· I can still exercise, even if I can’t find a brace that actually fits my knee properly

· I haven’t missed a meal because I didn’t have any food

· I haven’t ruined my life because of some stupid, stupid mistake.

And last night, as I crawled into bed and pulled out my prayer journal that the above mentioned awesome girlfriend purchased for me, I felt bad for feeling bad about my life.

I had to apologize to God for questioning my place in the world. I’m in a great place, a wonderful place that I prayed day and night for.

I wanted to be at Carolina, I wanted a job that was fulfilling, I needed a better boss, I wanted to live on my own, I wanted friends that love and respect me, and I wanted to be in a relationship that was a truer reflection of me. I have all those things and soo much more. And for that I am truly, inexplicably grateful.

I thank God for all of you.

(and I will limit the dark blogs from now on)