you ever go night night n****

well...have you? lol!

i.love.them

Nicholas Kirkwood Autumn/Winter 2010
(i'm in love)

digital love...

As I sit in front of my computer screen, watching the season premier of gossip girl ::yes, I know, I’ve got to do better:: I listen, I reflect. On a number of things, like how my teenage years bear not the slightest semblance to Serena’s and Blair’s…yadda yadda, se la vie.  After that fleeting envious thought, I think about a conversation I had with a friend a few weeks back. Now before I get started, this person’s a really good friend of mine, and I told her I was going to write about her, so I hope this is fine :-/.  I’ll try to keep it light so I don’t ruffle any feathers…

My friend met a guy at a club and because I’m on a “Diff’rent World” high right now, we’re gonna call him Ron. She meets Ron, they talk, exchange numbers, get to know a little about each other. I talk to my friend a day or so later and she’s frustrated because with a common name like Ron, she can’t find him on facebook. Mind you, this conversation took place over text message, so I read the text and laughed a little to myself. I asked her why she’s looking for him on facebook…she has his number, there’s a breakfast date in the works…my sentiments are, whatever limited information you can get from facebook, he can tell you over breakfast. ::I say limited because 1. facebook lies and 2. who wants to date anyone who puts their whole life on facebook anyway!:: My friend’s very serious response to all this was, “I’m not dating anybody I can’t search on facebook.” I laughed very hard at this response and if I had the foresight of a Gossip Girl writer I would’ve said, “Cinderella didn’t google Prince Charming.” But because I don’t, I simply laughed and laughed some more. I might have even shaken my head once or twice. But like Serena tried to explain to Blair, and like I tried to explain to my very fly friend ::lol::, if you learn everything about a person before you get to know them, what kind of fun or dare I say “mystery” is there?

Now, to explore both sides of the coin, my friend just wanted to know a little about Ron and what she was getting into. Like she explained to me on her own defense, he could be a serial killer, a serious creeper, or at best, some kind of Casanova-type player. I’ll be the first to acknowledge the validity of these excuses, BUT again, “facebook lies” and the chances you’d meet and date a serial killer who wants to meet for breakfast are slim to none.

I’ve said all this to generate some kind of critique, not of my friend, but of the digital society in which we live. Yes, technology plays a dangerously wonderful role in our lives, but just how invasive is it? What place should it have in our relationships? Maybe I’m some kind of Elizabethan era romantic, longing for letters and more time-conscious shows of affection. But think, in this digital era, how much more special would a letter be than a text message? A phone call? I’ll admit, I like flowers and notes and letters. I’ll also admit that those aren’t things I’d want every day from a significant other, but facebook just seems so…overdone. Something personal, between me and him seems more romantic, more individual, more conscious. He thinks I’m special, I’m original, and not only does he show it, but I got it in writing! lol

truly.madly.deeply: i love

“I’d buy you rogaine, when you start losing all your hair
Sew on patches to all you tear
Cuz I love you more than I could ever promise
And you take me the way I am”

Yea, that’s how I feel about him…even though I don’t seem to sew that well and he doesn’t think he’ll ever lose his hair. The latter matters more to him than it ever will to me. He inspires me but I’m not sure what to write. Wait, because I think you misunderstood me. I’m writing this for me, but I’m not sure you would understand all that I’d write about him.

Where I’m at right now, it’s untouchable, and so if I tried to explain him to you, it would just sound or read like nonsense. He’s many streams of consciousness that always seem to collide. To borrow a line from a favorite song,

                         “love’s too weak to define just what you mean to me.”

So maybe you get it now, it’s not that I can’t, it’s quite explicitly, that I won’t. I know you want to know, but it’s really for your own good that I don’t tell you, that I don’t say anything because that’s when I say the most. If you look, not even too intently, you’ll see him on me. What I feel, somehow finds its way out. It radiates off of me. It’s like a humidifier in that way; it clears my air, helps me breathe. But if you think I need him you’re wrong because, you see, the shoe’s on the other foot.

What you should see is how he needs me. I’m a testament to his greatness. Without him, I’m me and without me, he’s him, but together it’s we. Like the color inside the lines, an uncolored book, is still what it is. But think what a few crayons and color pencils could do for it! We is the color of a drawing, the highlight on a page. We means, someone was here, they left a mark, and now, I will never be the same. It’s not just as good, it’s a lot closer to better.

deep with love: come follow me...

As I sit here acting as if I don't have volumes to read before the official work week begins tomorrow, my mind begins to wander. I think of all the posts I've been afraid to write because, "what if they're not good enough"? What if they don't portray me well, what if people just don't understand? These questions are real, too real, so real that I've half written at least two posts, and even now, half written they remain. I write and I realize...

My blog is all of me, flawed, not perfect, but all I have, I give. Just as it's unfair for me to deprive myself of all that I'm offered, it's unfair for me to deprive the world and all i meet of all of me. Think of the disservice! While I don't think I'm better than the next blogger with neon orange nails, or anyone else for that matter, I do recognize my value and that mine isn't exchangeable for anyone else's...nor is it for sale.

What I mean by my little adage is that, my biggest disservice to myself is feeling trapped to someone because I don't want to face the consequence (which is usually, their feelings being hurt). Now, I must say, I believe "hurt feelings" is a decision, if i allow myself to be hurt by your words, that's my choice. Of course, with that said, I wouldn't expect anyone to continue making remarks without any consideration for others, however, i also don't expect anyone to censure themselves and their feelings for someone else

::bottom line, it's all in how you say what you say::

"Yesterday, I was a little girl. I was worried about what other people thought and I showed it. I cried, often. And let everything hurt my feelings. My mom called it "emotional". Today, I took "emotional" and replaced it with love. 'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres' (1). And today, I became a woman".

I'm 21, developing what I call my "classic style" and now developing my self. Honestly, I can say that the time has come to put away childish things (I say this without fully admitting "grown-ness"). What I say and what I don't is because of love. 

Let's not forget, the choices we make and the things on which we spend our money, reflect our values and inevitably, our self; my self is what I give, again, flawed...but all.

true love: thoughts from she, thoughts of he

a reflection on what my daddy taught me...

Plain and simple, I love my daddy.

When I first started dating, my boyfriend expressed his fear of my dad. I laughed at this fear, laughed because my daddy plays the rough card, and very well might I add, but behind his often stoic veneer, my dad is cool, he’s funny, and the best addition to any friendship. My dad boasted for years of his guns and target practice but when I told my dad about my first boyfriend, he told me he liked who I liked, and until they gave him reason to dislike them, he trusted my choice. Essentially, my dad, the first man in my life, gave me the confidence and the courage to explore love, challenge what I knew of love, and to forego what others tried to sell me about my relationship with love; he instead taught me to replace love with what I thought it is and what I think it should be. These words and lessons I hold with me even today.

Last night, I talked with my best friend about SATC 2. She brought up the situation between Carrie and Big, where they were contemplating taking "days off" from their marriage. As I proceeded to to explain what I thought of this situation, my reply, though surprising to my girl, echoed what I believe were my daddy's words. Though Carrie's friends did not understand, and neither really did Carrie, she resolved that Big's proposition could be something that worked for her and her husband. This is the factor that proved most important.

Ask yourself, what works for you. Challenge yourself to challenge love as you currently know it, the love you have known, the love others have sold you. Trust yourself and do what works for you. We often, as women, rely on the opinions of our friends to gauge the validity and credibility of our actions, of our relationships, of ourselves. If it makes you happy, truly happy, not that "it makes                      happy, and thats good enough" happy or that "it's better than nothing" happy, but honest to goodness "it makes me happy" happy, let the situation work until it gives you reason to forsake it. Try not to presume its effects and guess where you'll end up after. Give yourself and your friends what my father gave me, confidence and courage to define your/their own love.

Happy Father's Day! 

mad with love: where i'm from

i wrote this one night, after a break up. at the time, he was what i wanted, what i thought i needed. this he was one of many who helped shape a she, a she that finds compliment in a man and not complement. a she that sees when he isn't meant to be. but finally, a she that knows love, how to give it and how to receive it.

a look into my thoughts that helped to shape this present past...

4/06

I want to move on but it doesn't seem to be working out. About six months of my time I devoted to him; exchanged sweet nothings all for nothing because here I am today. Dare I say it, a woman scorned. He told me he loved me, but that had to be a lie. Because if he loved me how could he just sever ties with me? How could he be in my space and not look at my face, how dare he say "what's up" how dare he utter my name from those lips. Those lips that lie, that falsify the truth.

Just tell me straight. Tell me sideways, backwards, but tell me something! I shed no tears for no man; no woman, NO CRY. He aint worth my tears. Yes he used and abused my time, yes he selfishly kept me to himself, kept me wrapped in his smile, feigned jealousy...because this couldn't be real. Soon someone will yell "cut" or pinch me to liberate me from this bad dream. You loved me right? Why? And how could you throw those things away? You know, I'm through with the page-long vents about you and the wrong you've done, because Mya said it best, "I'm Movin' On"