A friend loves at all times. Boy, how true those words are, and how much I value them. I am now starting to realize how tough this transition to Texas might be. I've realized a lot about myself, in that I make "Acquaintances" easily, but TRUE friends.... not so much. Finding those who can put up with my tardiness, somewhat/sometimes overwhelming personality (and mouth to boot), not to mention my "Jekyl and Hyde" Gemini personality is going to be a challenge. Seriously, folks, that's how I am.
It's hard to find friends who understand that.... one day I might feel really social, while the next, I just want to hide inside and be a loner; or that, my mouth runs away from me; or that I usually run about 5-10 minutes late because I try to cram in that last second activity or project when I really don't have time; or that, I'm not great about answering emails or phone calls right away. It's even harder to find someone who will choose to not take these short-comings and idiosyncrasies personally.
Yesterday, it hit me how daunting this "new friend hunt" will be. And I felt all alone. And so thankful for those girlfriends I've had all my life, who KNOW how I am, because they've trudged through the sludge of my baggage, right along with me. They have chosen to love me anyway. I MISS you guys. I love you guys.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Must..... Hang..... On......
I saw her the other day. I was in line, waiting to grab a kid's movie from the Redbox at Walmart. There's nothing better to do when you're waiting in line than people watch, and so, for some reason, I spotted her.
She was probably about my age, and wore her hair short- one of those cute, flipped out chin-length cuts. The color was dyed red- but that orangey red- the one that says, "I MUST buck the norm". I admire anyone who's willing to pull off that shade. I personally would LOVE and kill to be a true red-head, but that- that's just a little orange for my skin color. She looks a little tired, and as my eyes travel downward, I notice the three boys- climbing like monkeys on the shopping cart; begging for candy, prizes, and who-knows-what. I relate to her as I notice and admire the cute, brown, trendy Coach bag on her shoulder; but I hear the record skreech as I notice the tattoo of thorns around her upper arm. DO WHAT?!? I almost laughed out loud. Suddenly, the picture all fit together for me, in it's haphazard way.... and what didn't look like it should all fit together made sense to me. The edgy hair-cut, color and bold tattoo screaming her independence smeared together with the three boys, and the ultimate sign of suburban life- her bag and shopping cart- it's all a blend of who she is. The past- screaming it's independence and excitement; blurred together with the present- equally exciting (albeit in a VERY different- chasing monkey boys kind of way), not so independent, and almost mundane.
While I wanted to laugh, I had to almost admire her spunk, and thought, "You go get it, girl! You hang onto it!"
I have to wonder what little parts of me I'm hanging on to that don't quite fit me anymore- as I ease into that more appropriate "30-something" wardrobe. Is it my music? Hair? Clothes? I don't know.... I do have that affinity for the Dave Matthews Band, and I am starting to get looks from certain teenagers at the concerts. Should I give it up??????
No way. But please if I start to look like someone hanging onto my 90's hairstyles.... someone please stop me. Oh, and Lord protect me from the Mom jeans.
She was probably about my age, and wore her hair short- one of those cute, flipped out chin-length cuts. The color was dyed red- but that orangey red- the one that says, "I MUST buck the norm". I admire anyone who's willing to pull off that shade. I personally would LOVE and kill to be a true red-head, but that- that's just a little orange for my skin color. She looks a little tired, and as my eyes travel downward, I notice the three boys- climbing like monkeys on the shopping cart; begging for candy, prizes, and who-knows-what. I relate to her as I notice and admire the cute, brown, trendy Coach bag on her shoulder; but I hear the record skreech as I notice the tattoo of thorns around her upper arm. DO WHAT?!? I almost laughed out loud. Suddenly, the picture all fit together for me, in it's haphazard way.... and what didn't look like it should all fit together made sense to me. The edgy hair-cut, color and bold tattoo screaming her independence smeared together with the three boys, and the ultimate sign of suburban life- her bag and shopping cart- it's all a blend of who she is. The past- screaming it's independence and excitement; blurred together with the present- equally exciting (albeit in a VERY different- chasing monkey boys kind of way), not so independent, and almost mundane.
While I wanted to laugh, I had to almost admire her spunk, and thought, "You go get it, girl! You hang onto it!"
I have to wonder what little parts of me I'm hanging on to that don't quite fit me anymore- as I ease into that more appropriate "30-something" wardrobe. Is it my music? Hair? Clothes? I don't know.... I do have that affinity for the Dave Matthews Band, and I am starting to get looks from certain teenagers at the concerts. Should I give it up??????
No way. But please if I start to look like someone hanging onto my 90's hairstyles.... someone please stop me. Oh, and Lord protect me from the Mom jeans.
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