So, this post is actually part of an email exchange between myself and someone else. But, as I was on dictionary.com to double-check my spelling of "epiphany," the definition struck me as interesting - and, strangely, relevant to this email excerpt - so I share it with you now.
Epiphany
–noun, plural -nies.
1. (initial capital letter) a Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day.
2. an appearance or manifestation, esp. of a deity.
3. a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.
4. a literary work or section of a work presenting, usually symbolically, such a moment of revelation and insight.
So my brother's flat-mate ducked out on him today - just before rent is due, of course, and took money and other stuff - leaving my brother in a major lurch. Now, Joeley (my brother) is a missionary in Kiev living on a VERY tight and VERY fixed income. So, it's a pretty crappy situation for him. He posted on his Facebook the sitaution and how he was feeling about it. This, of course, prompted every Christian on-line at the time to give him the "God's will" "his ways are not our ways.." lines. GAG. Yeah, anyway, that sparked an email exchange between one of my brother's friends and me. With respect to him, I'll only post my parts and the pieces I feel relevant.
I didn't realize until I was typing the email that I really thought/felt this way about a few things - so, hmmmm, epiphany today. Enjoy.
The topic started off with Job – because whenever a Christian “suffers” they are immediately reminded of Job’s suffering. My initial comment was “…wouldn't it have been better for God to have not allowed the situation in the first place? I really don't get the whole ‘we don't know why God let's things happen’ comments, either. He lets them happen for sport - doesn't anyone remember Job? ‘Consider my servant, Job...’"
So, the first response to me was about the last chapter of Job being the reasoning behind all of the suffering and an “it all makes sense now” sort of feeling from this person with whom I was exchanging emails. Here’s my first response:
“I've read Job MANY times - and if you're referring to the fact that he ended up with many times more what he had – ‘So the LORD blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginning’ - I still don't see how it isn't just for sport.So, God decides to screw with your life (well, let Satan do the screwing, technically), but it's all ok, because, in the end, you'll be blessed? Yeah, I don't go for that. Or perhaps, the part in the chapter where God tells Job's buddies to sacrifice and have Job pray for them? Because, if you suffer and don't whine about it TOO much, then God hears your prayers more than your friends who were jerks? Again, not buying it.Sorry, I know it sounds bitter, but I just think that we, as people, ascribe a lot to God that really isn't in his nature. If it's true that he set Job up to be messed around with, then that's some pretty sick sadism, you know? I believe in God, but I think that this whole ‘he's got my best interests in mind’ or ‘he won't give me more than I can handle’ or ‘he's testing my faith’ stuff is horse crap. (You seem like a decent person, so I'll reserve my more colorful language, but you get the idea.)And, you're right, most kids don't understand why parents do and say what they do - but, the difference here is that kids grow up and learn the motivation behind what their parents were doing. Christians never grow up - they stay kids, under the thumb and will of their ‘Abba’ [that’s Hebrew for Daddy, by the way] God.”
I missed the mark on what the person was saying – the point was that Job’s eternal blessing was in “seeing God.” The reference (Job 42:5, if you’re interested) says, “I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear; But now my eye sees You…” Basically, this person was telling me that Job’s suffering allowed him to “be freed from a religious, selfish, [and] impersonal view of God,” and that this was “Job's ultimate blessing.” To which I responded:
“I had heard of God by the ear, and then I met God. Sorry to say, it was a bit like the ‘man behind the curtain’ for me. And, I don't think that it takes immeasurable suffering to be freed from a religious, selfish, impersonal view of God. I started out knowing God as a child - then church settled in (if you know Joel, then you're familiar with our upbringing). [Quite Jesus-y and VERY conservative, but in a cool –GAG – Calvary Chapel way.] I had a very simple, very accurate (in my opinion) view of God as a child - but then religion tries to complicate the beauty of simple things. Man has a tendency to muck things up - it's our special superpower as human beings, I think.
I have spent years getting back to my simple understanding of God - mind you, I can out-argue any Christian - because I know the Bible and all of the arguments better than Christians do(well, almost any - Joel & Dave Rolph trip me up sometimes). I think God is not bound by our concepts of right and wrong or good and evil. Yes, I believe that God is love - but I don't believe that we understand what that means. I don't believe in this benevolent Santa Claus in the sky (I mean, of course, if you have Jesus [because if you don’t have Jesus, the Santa Claus becomes the mean judge with a gavel that sends you to hell, but I digress]). I think that God is much less concerned with us than we think - I believe that God takes interest in us as it suits him - sometimes it suits him, other times it does not. Kind of like a kid with an ant farm.I think that you and I are probably not all that different. I, too, have experienced TREMENDOUS loss - if we continue this dialog, maybe I'll fill you in on the details - but details are really not that important. Suffice it to say that I understand your loss and grief - probably a lot more than most people can. And, while I do believe that God sustained me through very difficult times - there were times that I alone sustained me. [As well as times that other individuals sustained me – not relating to ‘God’ because these individuals don’t believe in God, get it?] There were times when I NEEDED an intervention from God - and it didn't happen. Because he was busy? Or uninterested? Or just interested to see what I would do without help? I have no idea. I do know, though, that God - if he wanted to - could disallow a lot of suffering, and he chooses not to. Which is entirely his prerogative - I mean, he's God, so he kinda gets to do whatever he feels like doing, you know?”
It ends with a few pleasantries, and the dialogue has continued – but these are the important parts – the epiphinous parts, if you will (yes, I made up that word). These excerpts are the ones that surprised me today.
See how many amazing things you can learn about yourself when your mind is uncluttered with other people’s bullshit? Say NO to toxic people! Oh, wait – that’s a bit out of context, another post to get into that – suffice it to say that I have cut ties recently with people who are unhealthy for me to be around. Until next time – ciao!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
The gloves are off...
Well, rather, they are about to be on. But, I use the "gloves off" phrase thanks to my good friend, Micki. You see, another Facebook night - amazing how that little site can inspire me to blog - so I posted that Spanky and I are going back to kickboxing class. And that I'm REALLY serious about it. SO serious, in fact, that I have taken off my acrylic nails. Yes, world, you heard it hear first (well, second, really, cause the whole Facebook thing), but, anyway - no nails.
And, my friend, Micki, commented, "'nails off!' It's kind of a hip chicks version of 'gloves off' right?" Yes, Micki, I do believe that it is. Now to really drive home the significance of this momentous occassion, you will need again, yes, some history. As a child I admired my mother's fake nails and LONGED for the day when I, too, could be grown up enough to falsely elongate my natural nails and coat them with hardening chemicals to enhance my beauty. At 18, upon being able to make my own decisions and pay my own bills (most of the time), I got myself a fabulous set of these wonderous accesories. And, dear readers, I never looked back. I did mention last post that I am 34 years old, right? So, yes, the math on that is correct. 16 years, that's almost half of my life. Now a few months here and there along the way I let my natural nails take a breather - but this was intentional, people. I actually went to the salon and ASKED for them to be taken off - I PAID for them to be taken off. Yes, amazing, I know.
Now, before you get all scared and think I'm going all natural and going to start growing out my pit hair, keep in mind that I do intend to continue my routine of regular pedicures, eyebrow waxing and regular hair coloring - because, you know, beauty requires some upkeep - well, my beauty anyway. I'm just trying to convey here how serious I am about beating and kicking the shit out of a bag at the gym. I started it up a few months ago, then sort of let it go - I liked the excuse that I kept breaking nails, because beauty is important you know - and that I really don't like to sweat. But, stopping the kickboxing class has become almost catastrophic.
You see, the Autumn that appears before you today was not always as svelte and sexy as now. Oh, no, dear readers, Autumn was MAJORLY fat. And I'm not talking Bridget Jones chubby here, no, really fat. At my highest weight I was 350 pounds. Now, it took a lot to get there, and that story is long - though not boring - but it is for another time. Suffice it to say that through circumstance, some hard work and a few illnesses, I made it down to a very reasonable 145 pounds last year (though most of the process was completed by about mid-2005, the last 40 pounds or so were just through last October). While recovering from a major illness and regaining back my strength, Spanky and I discovered the MMA - that would be Mixed Martial Arts, for those of you not in the know. So, the WEC or Ultimate Fighting Championship stuff - mix boxing and karate and jujitsu and wrestling and chokeholds and put it all in a ring and tear the hell out of each other - in a completely sportsman-like way, of course.
Then, we discovered a gym that featured this type of workout. I went to some kickboxing classes - and I was hooked. Never one for exercise, because, you know, the sweating and the red-face and the sweating and the physical effort involved and the sweating and the how in the hell do you look cute when you're DYING and did I mention, SWEATING???? Doesn't matter, this was FUN! And I was getting muscles. And I could almost - and really only almost - do like 5 whole push-ups - the girl kind, but still, this is major stuff. Then things got busy, then the breaking of the nails, and you know, it costs money that I could be spending on other things - like my nails....
Anyway, fast-forward to May. Hmmmm, my pants are getting a little tight. Mind you, I had to buy ALL new clothes last year because everything I had was too big for me. Oh, yeah, so cool when you're buying a size 6 and even THOSE are getting to be loose on you. SO COOL. But, I digress, stepping on the scale in May, about 147 - oh, watch that extra glass of wine, keep those calories in check. June, ouch - 154. I never knew 9 pounds could make such a difference. See, because, when you're 350 pounds, you can gain or loose 20 pounds in 2 weeks and never feel or see it. BUT, 9 pounds when you're 145 - that's a whole pants size difference!!! And then, OMG, the scale hit 158. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, most women have at least had SOME kind of issue with weight in their lives. But THIS woman has had major issues. And I'll be DAMNED if I'm getting up above 158, people. Well, right now it's 157 - but, you see the issue here. I CANNOT GET FAT AGAIN. (Well, let's say that with the exception of a pregnancy - because I haven't had any of those yet - and I hear it's kinda bad if you aren't gaining weight when you've got one of those going on.) So, kickboxing class starts up again tomorrow. 6:30 PM - and it's a 75 minute class. It may very well kick my ass. As long as it kicks my ass into a perky little shape, then it's all good.
Anyway, the nails came off, readers. And the gloves are going on (they're pink and SO cute, by the way). That damn bag isn't gonna know what hit it - because, even though I'm not 350 pounds anymore, I'm no more graceful now than I was when I did weigh that much and I certainly know how to buldoze my way through something - there's a story there, but, it's getting late. Watch out, bag - you're about to meet Autumn "Thunderfist Penguin" Donahue - and it ain't gonna be pretty for you!
And, my friend, Micki, commented, "'nails off!' It's kind of a hip chicks version of 'gloves off' right?" Yes, Micki, I do believe that it is. Now to really drive home the significance of this momentous occassion, you will need again, yes, some history. As a child I admired my mother's fake nails and LONGED for the day when I, too, could be grown up enough to falsely elongate my natural nails and coat them with hardening chemicals to enhance my beauty. At 18, upon being able to make my own decisions and pay my own bills (most of the time), I got myself a fabulous set of these wonderous accesories. And, dear readers, I never looked back. I did mention last post that I am 34 years old, right? So, yes, the math on that is correct. 16 years, that's almost half of my life. Now a few months here and there along the way I let my natural nails take a breather - but this was intentional, people. I actually went to the salon and ASKED for them to be taken off - I PAID for them to be taken off. Yes, amazing, I know.
Now, before you get all scared and think I'm going all natural and going to start growing out my pit hair, keep in mind that I do intend to continue my routine of regular pedicures, eyebrow waxing and regular hair coloring - because, you know, beauty requires some upkeep - well, my beauty anyway. I'm just trying to convey here how serious I am about beating and kicking the shit out of a bag at the gym. I started it up a few months ago, then sort of let it go - I liked the excuse that I kept breaking nails, because beauty is important you know - and that I really don't like to sweat. But, stopping the kickboxing class has become almost catastrophic.
You see, the Autumn that appears before you today was not always as svelte and sexy as now. Oh, no, dear readers, Autumn was MAJORLY fat. And I'm not talking Bridget Jones chubby here, no, really fat. At my highest weight I was 350 pounds. Now, it took a lot to get there, and that story is long - though not boring - but it is for another time. Suffice it to say that through circumstance, some hard work and a few illnesses, I made it down to a very reasonable 145 pounds last year (though most of the process was completed by about mid-2005, the last 40 pounds or so were just through last October). While recovering from a major illness and regaining back my strength, Spanky and I discovered the MMA - that would be Mixed Martial Arts, for those of you not in the know. So, the WEC or Ultimate Fighting Championship stuff - mix boxing and karate and jujitsu and wrestling and chokeholds and put it all in a ring and tear the hell out of each other - in a completely sportsman-like way, of course.
Then, we discovered a gym that featured this type of workout. I went to some kickboxing classes - and I was hooked. Never one for exercise, because, you know, the sweating and the red-face and the sweating and the physical effort involved and the sweating and the how in the hell do you look cute when you're DYING and did I mention, SWEATING???? Doesn't matter, this was FUN! And I was getting muscles. And I could almost - and really only almost - do like 5 whole push-ups - the girl kind, but still, this is major stuff. Then things got busy, then the breaking of the nails, and you know, it costs money that I could be spending on other things - like my nails....
Anyway, fast-forward to May. Hmmmm, my pants are getting a little tight. Mind you, I had to buy ALL new clothes last year because everything I had was too big for me. Oh, yeah, so cool when you're buying a size 6 and even THOSE are getting to be loose on you. SO COOL. But, I digress, stepping on the scale in May, about 147 - oh, watch that extra glass of wine, keep those calories in check. June, ouch - 154. I never knew 9 pounds could make such a difference. See, because, when you're 350 pounds, you can gain or loose 20 pounds in 2 weeks and never feel or see it. BUT, 9 pounds when you're 145 - that's a whole pants size difference!!! And then, OMG, the scale hit 158. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, most women have at least had SOME kind of issue with weight in their lives. But THIS woman has had major issues. And I'll be DAMNED if I'm getting up above 158, people. Well, right now it's 157 - but, you see the issue here. I CANNOT GET FAT AGAIN. (Well, let's say that with the exception of a pregnancy - because I haven't had any of those yet - and I hear it's kinda bad if you aren't gaining weight when you've got one of those going on.) So, kickboxing class starts up again tomorrow. 6:30 PM - and it's a 75 minute class. It may very well kick my ass. As long as it kicks my ass into a perky little shape, then it's all good.
Anyway, the nails came off, readers. And the gloves are going on (they're pink and SO cute, by the way). That damn bag isn't gonna know what hit it - because, even though I'm not 350 pounds anymore, I'm no more graceful now than I was when I did weigh that much and I certainly know how to buldoze my way through something - there's a story there, but, it's getting late. Watch out, bag - you're about to meet Autumn "Thunderfist Penguin" Donahue - and it ain't gonna be pretty for you!
Friday, July 3, 2009
If I knew in HS...
Those are famous words for pretty much any adult I know. If I knew in HS what I know now...what? You'd do things differently? No you wouldn't. You'd try and exact your revenge on the people you thought were mean to you or you'd use this aged wisdom somehow to your advantage or really mess things up worse than you did the first time.
So, tonight, I am innocently on Facebook, updating my status - like you do - when I get a Facebook IM from a girl I went to HS with. Well, I suppose she's a woman now, but in my mind she's a girl. A skinny, pretty girl with long beautiful hair down to her ass who didn't look at me twice unless it was to make a snide comment or throw a dirty look my way. It was a surreal experience. The IM started out - "Autumn! OMG - how are you doing???" As if we're old friends just catching up? Really? You want to know how I am? Seriously? Um, yeah, I'm alright, how about you? Weird.
Okay, so to fully appreciate the aboslute, cosmic WHAT????NESS of the situation, maybe I should recount a little bit of HS for you. I was never what you'd call part of the "in crowd." I wasn't pond scum, but I wasn't anywhere near the upper crust of kids in my HS. Starting out, I'm the oldest of 7 kids. Already not anywhere near your average Orange County, CA kid. On top of that - 4 of my siblings are adopted - GASP! SHOCK! WHAT???? Yes, my parents are saints, I've heard it before. So, okay, I've got 6 brothers and sisters. Let's add to that the fact that while I'm probably 6 months younger than most of my peers, I'm 30 or so points ahead of them in IQ. Now, before you get impressed, I'm not really smart enough to be GENIUS, but I'm not stupid enough to be normal.
Oh, and, did I mention I was fat? Now, in the beginning of HS, just about 15 extra pounds. By graduation, I was carrying around 75 extra or so. Don't start getting all pitying and feeling bad for me - I didn't. I was relatively happy. Way early I realized the what people think (because most people don't actually use their brains) doesn't really matter. Sure, like every American teenager, I wanted friends and to look cute and to have boyfriends and all that crap - but I wasn't caught up in it. Having said all that, I was kinda weird. Not weird enough to be the completely off-the-wall kid, but weird enough to be remembered as the akward, geeky, chubby kid from HS. Not to say I didn't have friends - I did. Not to say I didn't have dates, cause, again, I did. I think my brother put it to me best years after we were out of HS. He says, "Autumn, you were the girl ALL the guys in HS wanted to have sex with - they just didn't want their friends to know about it." Yeah, I wasn't my only issue - my family was special, too.
Anyway, suffice it to say, that while I didn't hate HS, it wasn't "the best time of my life." It was mildly uncomfortable, with spurts of euphoria and others of deep depression - but that's being a teenager, right? So, back to this Facebook chat: let's set this up with the fact that there were maybe 6 girls the same year as me who were ultra-cool. They gained this status in Jr. High and retained it through Senior Year. Oh, did I mention that I went to a private, Christian school filled with rich Newport Beach brats? Oh, and that the only reason I attended was that my mother was the school nurse? Yeah, again with the lack of cool - though I did have an endless supply of hall passes. So, I graduate HS at 17 and pretty much never look back. I don't think I've had regular contact with anyone from HS in at least 10 years.
Then, FACEBOOK! And all of these people I knew in school are sending me friend requests and trying to "re-connect." As of we ever really had a real connection. So, HS was weird and akward, college was a little better, then - I discovered a career! OMG - I had talent. And I could make MONEY! And - though there's A LOT in the middle I'm leaving out, and we can get to it later - at 34, I am a very successful, fairly well-adjusted, happily married, 145 pound 5'6" amazingly beautiful woman - if I do say so myself. I really did come into my own after my late 20's. I found myself and realized that the world could kiss my ass. I'll do what I want, think what I want and be who I want. I'm a corporate systems analyst pulling in a 6 figure salary with 29 tattoos, 8 body piercings, 2 Chihuahuas - oh yeah, and I mention that my husband is HOT???
So, Friday night, I'm at home, rocking out to some great tunes in my living room with my husband while he is singing classic Rick James to me and jamming on one of our guitars. I get a Facebook IM from (well, let's call her Mary) - and she's telling me how great I look and how she's so glad that I'm happy and all this crap that I can't even comprehend because the last time I saw this girl is at graduation when she gives me a dirty look and I leave campus and never look back. So, then I'm looking at her Facebook page and looking at what she's typing to me. OMG - she got fat. And, I think her life must have peaked in HS because her latest Facebook update is something about how Sarah Palin is the greatest woman on the earth. Um, she lost the election, right? Okay, just checking.
Now, I don't know if she was feeling guilty or just had one too many glasses of box wine, but this girl/woman says to me - "You know, we weren't in a lot of classes together, but I know you didn't have the easiest time coming up. You seem like you're happy and doing well. I'm so proud of you and glad to call you my friend."
Yes, that's what she said. I NEVER called this person my friend. Though, probably by about Sophomore year I would have LOVED to. But I got over that about mid-Junior year when I started wearing pajamas to school every day - yeah, don't ask. She said something else about HS being bullshit (my word, not hers) and then something to the effect of "you seem so happy. That's the best revenge against those people who were mean to you - just being happy and successful." Is this real? Doesn't she know that she was like the LEADER of the people who were mean to me??? I suppose if HS was still fresh in my mind I could bring up specific instances, but, hell, that was 16 years ago! A lot has happened since then. HS really wasn't that memorable.
But I guess everyone needs to get things off of their chest, right? So, I'm wondering, was that an apology? Or did she think we were bonding? Was some popular soccer mom mean to her and that got her thinking about all her bad karma? I dunno, just thought it was too good not to write down and share with the many (or few) who might stumble across this. I tend to be a bit scattered, but, if you check back often, I guarantee, it won't be boring. Might be a little hard to follow, but always an interesting read. Happy Friday. Oh, more Rick James awaits....no, wait, I hear that the music has changed.....Shooter Jennings!!!!! "Just can't find no shelter for the Wooooolllllffffff - oh, nononononono!!!!!" As Spank (that's my husband) stage dives from the coffee table.
So, tonight, I am innocently on Facebook, updating my status - like you do - when I get a Facebook IM from a girl I went to HS with. Well, I suppose she's a woman now, but in my mind she's a girl. A skinny, pretty girl with long beautiful hair down to her ass who didn't look at me twice unless it was to make a snide comment or throw a dirty look my way. It was a surreal experience. The IM started out - "Autumn! OMG - how are you doing???" As if we're old friends just catching up? Really? You want to know how I am? Seriously? Um, yeah, I'm alright, how about you? Weird.
Okay, so to fully appreciate the aboslute, cosmic WHAT????NESS of the situation, maybe I should recount a little bit of HS for you. I was never what you'd call part of the "in crowd." I wasn't pond scum, but I wasn't anywhere near the upper crust of kids in my HS. Starting out, I'm the oldest of 7 kids. Already not anywhere near your average Orange County, CA kid. On top of that - 4 of my siblings are adopted - GASP! SHOCK! WHAT???? Yes, my parents are saints, I've heard it before. So, okay, I've got 6 brothers and sisters. Let's add to that the fact that while I'm probably 6 months younger than most of my peers, I'm 30 or so points ahead of them in IQ. Now, before you get impressed, I'm not really smart enough to be GENIUS, but I'm not stupid enough to be normal.
Oh, and, did I mention I was fat? Now, in the beginning of HS, just about 15 extra pounds. By graduation, I was carrying around 75 extra or so. Don't start getting all pitying and feeling bad for me - I didn't. I was relatively happy. Way early I realized the what people think (because most people don't actually use their brains) doesn't really matter. Sure, like every American teenager, I wanted friends and to look cute and to have boyfriends and all that crap - but I wasn't caught up in it. Having said all that, I was kinda weird. Not weird enough to be the completely off-the-wall kid, but weird enough to be remembered as the akward, geeky, chubby kid from HS. Not to say I didn't have friends - I did. Not to say I didn't have dates, cause, again, I did. I think my brother put it to me best years after we were out of HS. He says, "Autumn, you were the girl ALL the guys in HS wanted to have sex with - they just didn't want their friends to know about it." Yeah, I wasn't my only issue - my family was special, too.
Anyway, suffice it to say, that while I didn't hate HS, it wasn't "the best time of my life." It was mildly uncomfortable, with spurts of euphoria and others of deep depression - but that's being a teenager, right? So, back to this Facebook chat: let's set this up with the fact that there were maybe 6 girls the same year as me who were ultra-cool. They gained this status in Jr. High and retained it through Senior Year. Oh, did I mention that I went to a private, Christian school filled with rich Newport Beach brats? Oh, and that the only reason I attended was that my mother was the school nurse? Yeah, again with the lack of cool - though I did have an endless supply of hall passes. So, I graduate HS at 17 and pretty much never look back. I don't think I've had regular contact with anyone from HS in at least 10 years.
Then, FACEBOOK! And all of these people I knew in school are sending me friend requests and trying to "re-connect." As of we ever really had a real connection. So, HS was weird and akward, college was a little better, then - I discovered a career! OMG - I had talent. And I could make MONEY! And - though there's A LOT in the middle I'm leaving out, and we can get to it later - at 34, I am a very successful, fairly well-adjusted, happily married, 145 pound 5'6" amazingly beautiful woman - if I do say so myself. I really did come into my own after my late 20's. I found myself and realized that the world could kiss my ass. I'll do what I want, think what I want and be who I want. I'm a corporate systems analyst pulling in a 6 figure salary with 29 tattoos, 8 body piercings, 2 Chihuahuas - oh yeah, and I mention that my husband is HOT???
So, Friday night, I'm at home, rocking out to some great tunes in my living room with my husband while he is singing classic Rick James to me and jamming on one of our guitars. I get a Facebook IM from (well, let's call her Mary) - and she's telling me how great I look and how she's so glad that I'm happy and all this crap that I can't even comprehend because the last time I saw this girl is at graduation when she gives me a dirty look and I leave campus and never look back. So, then I'm looking at her Facebook page and looking at what she's typing to me. OMG - she got fat. And, I think her life must have peaked in HS because her latest Facebook update is something about how Sarah Palin is the greatest woman on the earth. Um, she lost the election, right? Okay, just checking.
Now, I don't know if she was feeling guilty or just had one too many glasses of box wine, but this girl/woman says to me - "You know, we weren't in a lot of classes together, but I know you didn't have the easiest time coming up. You seem like you're happy and doing well. I'm so proud of you and glad to call you my friend."
Yes, that's what she said. I NEVER called this person my friend. Though, probably by about Sophomore year I would have LOVED to. But I got over that about mid-Junior year when I started wearing pajamas to school every day - yeah, don't ask. She said something else about HS being bullshit (my word, not hers) and then something to the effect of "you seem so happy. That's the best revenge against those people who were mean to you - just being happy and successful." Is this real? Doesn't she know that she was like the LEADER of the people who were mean to me??? I suppose if HS was still fresh in my mind I could bring up specific instances, but, hell, that was 16 years ago! A lot has happened since then. HS really wasn't that memorable.
But I guess everyone needs to get things off of their chest, right? So, I'm wondering, was that an apology? Or did she think we were bonding? Was some popular soccer mom mean to her and that got her thinking about all her bad karma? I dunno, just thought it was too good not to write down and share with the many (or few) who might stumble across this. I tend to be a bit scattered, but, if you check back often, I guarantee, it won't be boring. Might be a little hard to follow, but always an interesting read. Happy Friday. Oh, more Rick James awaits....no, wait, I hear that the music has changed.....Shooter Jennings!!!!! "Just can't find no shelter for the Wooooolllllffffff - oh, nononononono!!!!!" As Spank (that's my husband) stage dives from the coffee table.
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