Michael and I used to have a couple of friends from high school. We were all just kids then, so it was fine and, well, expected to act like a kid. But here we are, not too much older, but living in a different phase of our lives. We are expected to act a certain way. I’m not saying we have to lose our inner child and become hardened adults, we are just expected to step up and assume our roles as college students and adults. I’ve stepped up, Michael has stepped up, and so have many other people our age.
But here is where we and our couple of friends differ. We all grew up, stepped up, and left the juvenile attitudes behind. They didn’t.
It seems like anytime they feel like someone is lying to them, the plaster slanderous things about them on their social networking sites and refuse to even remember that person in a positive light. And you know what? More often than not, they’re wrong. It’s all in their head. No one is lying to them, no one’s pants are on fire, but it doesn’t matter because they’ve written that person off.
They have a hard time listening to the brutal honesty that the world does not revolve around them.
Michael and I have decided to wash our hands of them. Well, he decided it first, but obviously if he feels that way I am going to back him 100%. I’m tired of the judgmental attitudes, the reverse racism, alcohol and marijuana abuse, and all the rest of it.
When the bad outweighs the good, there is really no reason to continue down that road.
Peace, Love, and Pudd’n Pops,
AMZ
Working for my mother’s boss this summer is going exactly as I expected. Hundreds of copies, packets, mailings to be put together in a short amount of time. I wake up at 5 a.m., work is from 7-5, then mom and I walk. I usually get home around 7 p.m. Nothing like a 12 hour day to make you feel like a grownup. I guess.
The other day, I gave into the marriage urges and convinced Michael to go to Barnes and Noble with me to look at books about tying the knot. I was under the impression that he would enjoy going just to be with me, but be miserable because there typically isn’t much for a groom to do in the ways of wedding planning. (I would like to make it clear that he is extremely excited by the mere thought of marrying me, just in case I let him appear negative about the subject) But wait! Can it be!? Why, yes, it is! Books for the men to look at! Thus he dove right into it, reciting occasional lines and tips from the man manual to contribute to the research. Apparently, the best man originated from the time when a man had to be able to rely completely on his best friend to fend of his woman’s parents because he had taken her against their wishes for them to be married. The best man had to be able to punch out her parents if need be. What a pal indeed. I need to remind myself, yet again, that he and I are not engaged right now, so all of this talk and excitement really shouldn’t be happening. I tried on my sister’s ring last week on mother’s day. It felt yucky. I couldn’t stand the feeling of having something touch my fingers constantly. I suppose I will be forced to get over this discomfort for the sake of having an awesome ring on my finger…
Anywho, Friday night Michael and I went with his brother and his girlfriend to dinner and to see Robin Hood. I will spare you the details of dinner, mostly because if I talked about it the way I wanted to, there’s a chance I would make an enemy or two. Let me just be clear that from now on I plan on speaking my mind and not holding back what I have to say.
The most important part of this evening was the movie. Now, I am the type of girl that cannot stand epics. Take Troy, for example, this is Michael’s favorite movie. I can’t stand it. Robin Hood had enough humor and Russell Crowe being handsome to keep me interested. Why, hello there.
This is one man both
myself and mother agree is goofy-smile-on-your-face-when-you-look-at-him handsome.
The moral of this post is that if you’re a man, this movie is quite action-y, and if you’re a woman, this movie is quite russel-crowe-partially-nudey. Michael is probably going to have a fit when he reads this…haha!
Something I thought about the other day. A question I asked myself:
A girl met a boy, and a boy met a girl. They knew it was meant to be.
Ice cream dates and talking all night. They knew it was meant to be.
But deep down, they knew it couldn’t last forever. They knew they couldn’t stay together.
Their love was secret, beautiful, real, but that didn’t mean a thing.
He was called back to home, a sorrowful parting, and she kept her sadness a secret.
He returns with a ring on his hand, but this isn’t his choice nor hers.
What happens then? Is there much of a point?
Why you continue to pursue what you know is true. The point is love, of course. I’m not talking love on paper, the signing of a contract. I’m talking true love here.
But, I thought she said she’d never be the other woman? You’d be surprised at what you would do if you know that their love isn’t there and theirs is true.
It’s a terrible secret to have to carry around. Sometimes she may wonder if she will find someone else that she can be with. Sometimes she may wonder if He, who knows best, will make it all work out in the end; happily ever after.
It must kill her inside to love him so much. It must kill him inside to know he loves her and not the once he shares his life with. Love shouldn’t hurt, right? Love knows no bounds, right? That’s what we were always taught as children. Grow up, find our one true love, and live happily ever after. Happily ever after. It sounds like such an easy thing to do.
What would you do if you met the person you knew you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with, but knew it wasn’t ever going to happen?
AMZ
I like how I can go online, put in my email address, and start a blog. All of the sudden, I’m a writer. I’m a writer? I’m a writer!
I’m not a writer.
I am a myth. Or at least that was my dream as a child. I had always wanted to be what other people couldn’t. I wanted to be the protagonist of our favorite books. Maybe for a little while I wanted to be the character with wings. Maybe for a while I wanted to be the super saiyan. I wanted to be unique. I wanted to be talked about. I wanted to be magic. I’m probably not the only one who felt that way during childhood, but for the sake of selfishness and that desire to be unique, I wanted to be the only one who felt that way.
I am packing up to move out of my dorm. It is a slow process because I have to wait until weekends to bring things home. I pack things in order of importance. All of the crap I didn’t really need at school went first. All that is left is some things that I don’t need there, and some things that I do.
I have some posters hung up. Half of them are of the artsy, black & white, grown-up sort. You know a shot of the Eiffel Tower, Wars End Kiss, etc. Then I have some random posters that I will have to let go of eventually. Avatar: The Last Airbender, Kingdom Hearts II. I am trying to figure out when I have to throw them away. That sounds like a stupid thing to talk about, I know. If that’s how you feel, then whatever. But I mean when do I have to throw these childhood posters away? Are they going to be Dining Room conversation pieces? Themes for the nursery? When I throw them away, will I be a grown up?
There isn’t anything on the walls anymore. It is just a boring, concrete box. I don’t wanna be in it anymore.
TGIF. Thank God Its Finals. Well, it will be next week. But I don’t have much work left to do this week but exam reviews, so I am trying to relax a little. After I move out I am going straight to work for mom.
I want to be a grown up. I mean I know I’m grown up, but I’m not a grown up.
AMZ