Wii Muddle

It was the best of times and the worst. Well, no, that is a little dramatic. Definitely not the worst by any means. But still, something about it leaves me a little...off, for lack of a better defining word.

In mere days, just a short 38 hours from now, on the 28th, I will turn, 28. I shall wake up, go to work, go to the eye doctor, and head to my parent's house for a birthday dinner. A birthday dinner that I have not been home for in 2 years and even then, it was my niece's christening so I don't believe that "birthday dinner" really counted since there wasn't a birthday dinner that I could remember happening on that day. 

Totally getting off subject. 

I've never really had a birthday party. Well, once when I was 17 I had quite the successful party, but that was the one and only. Now last year, I spent my birthday eating cake, scratching off my annual scratch off card on a video chat with a boy 3,000 miles away. This year he wanted to do something better. This sweet sweet boy tried his hardest to give me something way better than that loneliness.

And so, approximately 2 months before my birthday he planned me a surprise party. A surprise party, that clearly the surprise was on me, when he woke up to let me know on Saturday morning that, sadly, no one could go, best friends didn't respond, and it was just "a bad weekend".

A bad weekend? Don't they know it's my birthday weekend? Which then lead me to my next thoughts...is it just me, or am I just not a good friend? Just not the type of friend you want to cancel plans for and be there for her party? Or make an appearance? Or make sure to let the party planner know that this is great...but...

Perhaps it's my sarcasm. Or my honest sense of humor. Or maybe sometimes I'm too honest. Or maybe it's that I'm not always the most social gal, so they figure why bother. In any case, it truly made me assess my friend base and I felt, well, for a lack of a better word, bad about it. Bad that it didn't happen, that I couldn't be surprised. That I, potentially, have no friends? Could it be, out of the once 900 facebook friends I once had, none of them were "good friends" so to speak? How is it? I mean, come on, I was president of my high school class for crying out loud? (She says with an ironic smirk).

Now don't think I am trying to make you feel bad, or pity me. It's just an honest question about life and how it works and maybe my shy home-body sarcastic nature has done me in. But please don't feel bad, because that is not the point of this. The point is the assessment of life and where it goes and how we get here be it train, plane, automobile, with a hand to hold in the seat next to you, or not.

Just a girl. Wondering, in life, who are your good friends? And who are the ones that just don't show up for the party...and perhaps, never will.

A.C. Newman

There are those people, well in my experience it is a good many people...that do this thing. This thing that once the conversation is over, the frustration just mounts as you wonder where it really went or what the point of it was. More often, over and over, I see this happen. And I wonder, why even bother? You clearly don't value my opinion that much, you just want to hear what you want.

I have, throughout the years, been that girl that people come to advice. I've always been that friend that people will come back to for their little therapy sessions over and over because they know I will listen and give advice when they want. But do they want it? This is the question I ask of myself. More often during these times I believe that when people ask for your advice, they are really asking for what they want to hear. And then, when they do not get this,  they either end the conversation, give a cryptic response, or my favorite get defensive over whatever statement you just made. Don't they realize that they came to you for advice? And that more over, since you are the one in the situation maybe you can see it a little more clearly?

I always wondered why I was that girl that my girlfriends would always drop after a little bit of time. I was that girl that would go above and beyond for my friendships, even at younger ages, including being the one that would give a birthday gifts when I would get nothing in return, or call and call and call them and never receive a phone call back. In short, embarrassingly enough, I wasn't good (and am still not, with the exception of a handful of my very close friends) in keeping a friend. Am I too honest? I don't believe that I am brutal in my words by any means. And a lot of times I feel the person out, if I don't think they want my advice, I just don't give it, but rather listen.

But back to the issue at hand...the ones that do ask for said advice and in turn, never take it. I try to present all sides clearly, never favoring one or the other, but playing devil's advocate on all the issues.  Don't they realize, we just care not to see them hurt?  Sigh.  Why bother? Ever notice that the advice you give on it would have worked better in the long run anyhow? 

Just a girl learning that she can't live any ones life for them, nor does she want to, and they have to learn for themselves, as hard as that may be for us to watch.

The Felice Brothers

It could have been Christmas, with the boxes scattered all over the worn hard wood floor. Big boxes, little boxes, boxes filled with things of a lifetime past. A lifetime that was packed up 10 months ago, waiting to emerge. Calling out, with each item hiding inside. Wondering at what point they would rush back into my life.

These boxes held my memories. Memories of lives past, of things that appear different from when I once had them strewn around a warm Los Angeles apartment, or a cold Brooklyn loft. Yes indeed things were different now. Not only have I lived many lives, these boxes now have as well. Being moved 3,000 miles to a garage, down to a basement, back to a garage, to a truck and into another home.

For each time I pulled my box cutter across the tape a new surprise would pop out. Books from my childhood, scripts, items from movie premiere's, my frying pan.  Who was this person? I look at these items with curiosity trying to place who exactly she was in my brain. Movie premiere's? A childhood long since passed... I can't quite figure her out, and yet become nostalgic for her all the same.

Other thing have changed too. The world has changed. It's not just me. It's finding a shirt with an intact New York skyline on it; or pictures from a marriage that is since broken. The images all look happy enough, never to know what kind of miserable end they would encounter. I piece it all together one by one, but still don't understand. How did things get to be this way? How did I get to be this way?

All of this is neither good nor bad, it just is. Each box is my time capsule. It reminds me of you, or you, or you, my friends, my family, my loves, everything that has made me, me. But who am I know? It all remains to be seen.

Just a girl. Unpacking once again, for these boxes have sat through many moons to once again be torn open to find their treasures (or tragedies) inside.