Thursday, May 6, 2010

How do we know that the sky is not green, and we are all just color-blind?

I have been swept off my feet to a little place called “Reality”. It's not as bad as I feared it would be, or as peaceful as I had hoped, but it’s definitely somewhere in the middle...

I have not even come close to escaping my cynicism, but I think I've discovered a new twist that is hidden in such an outlook. What we know and what I have expressed is this: Life sucks. Life is heartbreaking. Life is hard. Life can't be planned. Life is too short. Everyone will let you down at some point. No one in your life is perfect. No one, except you, can make you happy.
Well FUCK all of our lives then!!!! Right?!


STEP 1: Fuck your life. Begin with this attitude.
STEP 2: Hate, and expect the worse from, all you come into contact with.
STEP 3: Stop paying your bills, and start buying cigs and booze.
STEP 4: Random hook-ups?
STEP 5: Make yourself gorgeous (head to toe) in order to feel good about one part of your life.

Ok, now you're officially jaded.
AND, here's what's probably going to happen now:

1) Yes, “Fuck your life!” You're never going to stop saying it, now that you see the truth behind it.
2) Everyone around you will bug the shit out of you sometimes... as you will them... and that's just the way it is. Surprisingly though, committing yourself to hating everyone will somehow turn into accepting everyone for who they are (without rose-colored glasses)... and soon that hate turns into an indifference, compassion, and/or love for whoever is bugging the shit out of you at the moment.
3) You now HAVE to pay your bills if you want a place to sleep, a phone to text with, and the ability to watch “Sixteen and Pregnant”. And it sucks to now be broke because you owe a million dollars in late-fees. And you have a smoker's cough, as well as the shakes in the morning. Lesson learned, probably not going to go that route again... at least till next time ;)
4) Just to clarify, I have not done the random hook-up for quite awhile. However, it is a good way to make you jaded; you will quickly learn you can live without those pesky STD panic attacks.
5) You now look good as a fake version of yourself: This also makes you broke, but totally worth it :)

I'm pretty sure this is where my life left off last time I wrote, so an update of what you can now look forward to if you chose to blindly follow me on my “Fuck my life!” journey?

Maybe one of your favorite uncles will die; an uncle you did not see for months because you were too busy being jaded and self-absorbed. And THEN, maybe a friend of yours will give birth three months early to a beautiful baby boy who is a miracle in himself; and you'll watch her stay strong, hopeful, and thankful every single day. And THEN, you'll see what you thought were perfect relationships end, and what you thought were shitty relationships making it work. And THEN, you'll have a great talk (as friends) with your first love who totally screwed you, and you'll find out you changed his life. And THEN, you'll have your ex-fiancé want to make things right with you, and you slowly watch, as his words turn to actions, and they become something real to you. And THEN, you'll play softball (something you're terrified of because you suck) and you don't lose the game for your team and you aren’t even made to feel like the “ball-and-chain” that you know you are. And ALL THE WHILE you are in contact with your biological father's family for the first time, and things don't go as you hoped, but peace and acceptance fill your heart

Okay, that might not all happen to you verbatim, but I'm sure life will throw it's own on top of your shoulders whilst trying your hardest to believe And what I learned while trying my best to face all of this as a jaded cunt? Fuck my life, I don't really hate anyone (though I do only truly like a few), my time is best spent loving; listening; being good to those that matter; not letting my past define the future; standing up for myself; and creating the life I want... even if it contradicts what other’s want for me.

Now I'm able to see the miracles in each day, which went missed by my heart before. The absence of my “rose-colored glasses” has in fact had the opposite affect of what I expected. I’m not angry, or lonely, or fear the horror of the future; rather, I have been opened up to acceptance and strength, I’ve gained the knowledge that love is everywhere if you're willing to see it in its purest form, that I'm destined to be happy and sad just like everyone else, and that everyone has their own battles that cannot and should not be judged.

While living in this new “Reality”, I’m starting to discover more and more about myself. I worry far less, I’ve stopped pleasing others before pleasing myself, and I don’t plan out how my whole life is going to look…

I now see that everything that happens… is just life. I have one shot at this, and it's both a beautiful and ugly thing...

RIP Uncle Ken. I love you.

Monday, April 5, 2010

All I want for Christmas is... Santa to be real again.

This past Friday, my twenty-ninth day of true unattached singledome, my dear friend Jillard and I decided to go have some good ol' country fun at our favorite bar: Wait for it.... in ENUMCLAW. A bar that only plays country and hip hop, a bar where our BDD vanishes as soon as our cowgirl boots hit the floor, and a bar that is crawling with every type of man that has ever existed: cowboys, gangstas, stand-alone creepsters, ROTC weirdos, (and our personal favorite) over-juiced Jershey Shore wannabes. It's basically our “Cheers” and everyone is welcome... we LOVE it.

Our night started typically, Taco Time in mouth and “Knock 'Em Out” blaring from my little bitch's Audi. We were promptly bought drinks by a too-drunk, too-old, too-pathetic to say no to cowboy, and made our way to our corner. Yes. “Our corner”... we are now Friday night regulars and the waitress insists on calling me Margaret because of how funny she thinks it is that that's my proper name... FML.

My gorgeous and hilarious 30yr old bestie is currently seeing an adorable 22yr old who doesn't even know what hit him, so we promptly met up with him and his friends: MISTAKE #1. I then promtly decided to follow through on my “I'm sick of being single and I am now a man-hunter” plan: MISTAKE #2. I set my sights on one of these 22yr old friends: Yes, MISTAKE #3. ANYwho, we will call this new interest of mine “DB”.

Before we go into how I behaved, giving him brush off after brush off, I should explain. I'm at a point in my life that I don't believe in romantic love AT ALL. I don't think it exists, I think it's something we grow up expecting, like Santa Claus. A belief in true love = a belief in Santa Claus (which) = ONE BIG DISAPPOINTMENT and pointless embarrassing convos in which you stick up for Santa to your friends. And oh DB, thank you for confirming this terrifying belief of mine.

I spent the ENTIRE night dangling my carrot and taking it away from this poor hot specimen of a lad. "Flirting? I'm in! Dancing? Ummmm... not with you! Throw me over your shoulder to show off your muscles and make me feel tiny? Please right now! Sit on your lap? Only if I can vomit on it too!"... You get the idea. Our night ended with me giggling, only allowing him to makeout with my neck since we have yet to invent a tongue condom, and an exchange of phone numbers and an un-prompted vow to marry me. Fast forward an hour... phone calls, sweet texts, and a sweet goodnight from my new boytoy. Fast forward six more hours... four un-prompted wake up-calls and three texts from none other then, HIS GIRLFRIEND OF THREE YEARS.

Bravo, DB, bravo. Not only do you have a crazy on your hands, who is now also on mine, but you have not surprisingly proved my point that love is fiction, I'm better off alone, and that my cowgirl “fashion boots” ARE made for walkin...

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

You can't fix something that isn't broken...

After twenty-four years living in this skin, I have only now begun to feel comfortable in it. I am seven years into the dating hoopla, and I believe I probably have a few more dreadful years ahead before settling down and finding someone who can handle the woman I've become.

I remember what naïve, untouched, and blissfully idiotic felt like, but that was years ago, and I can't imagine there's any part of me that would choose to live that way again. Of course, I did not jump straight from “All American Girl” to my... uh, current state... because in my naievety I for sure thought it best to drag myself through trials that no ounce of innocent love could survive. So here I am: twenty-four years old, an English major working as a medical receptionist and living paycheck to paycheck, a surviver (as I like to say) of a not fully thought through abortion, a single mother to my bastard dog (literally), slightly more jaded than I ever wanted to be, and living in a different city then my heart... currently residing in South Tacompton with two of my ex-fiance's best friends (FYI: I don't suggest it, unless of course you're an emotional cutter like me. And then, it's completely ideal).

This life is not what I signed up for, nor anything I thought I would ever experience let alone survive, and I realize I am only at the tip of the iceberg:
For the first time in my adult life, I am single and am thankful for it (or atleast getting there). I don't know what it's like not to need someone else to “fill my cup” so to speak, but I'm learning. I enjoy looking at myself as a work in progress; I'm open to learn and am excited that I have control of where my life is headed. At this point, it involves and affects no one else. For the first time in my life I'm learning how to be selfish and how to work towards my own dreams. I never wanted this responsibility, like many girls I imagine, I wanted so badly to be saved by my soulmate... and apparently, that's just not going to happen for me.

After having my fiance leave (completely out of the blue, I might add, as well as owing me thousands of dollars), I for sure spent two months in my room crying, begging, and waiting for him to wake up and see my worth. I then dove head first into two months of dating a fantastic man who fell on my lap just in the knick of time. He is a man who saw my worth more clearly than I; a man who treated me like an absolute goddess; a man who is the epitome of who you take home to mom and dad; a man whom I love to pieces as a person, yet a man who I just didn't fall in love with. I have now spent two weeks (and three days) so fantastically and depressingly single... that I have the wine bottles, cab bills, mascara-stained pillows, and mystery texts to prove it.

I'm not sure I've ever been so bipolar in my life: free yet trapped, full of both laughter and tears, confident yet having to face Michael's rejection, and thankful to be surrounded by the strongest women in the world... yet completely annoyed at all of them for pushing me not to settle and to be equally as strong.

I've been amazed by what I'm capable of surviving, and how much it's changed me, yet how much I'm still me. The core of Maggie cannot be tainted or taken away by what life throws my way (or rather, as normally the case, I jump into). I have been told recently by close and distant people that I have a spirit for life that seperates me from everyone else. I cannot tell you how this knowledge, and the fact that maybe I do have something to offer the world (and maybe even one day a soulmate), has carried me through the days and nights that I start to lose faith in why this is all happening to me. “Why me!?”.... But now that question has changed to “Why not me!?” As my articulate and darkly hilarious friends have now grown to say, "...this situation could be much worse. You could be going through it... while living in Haiti.”

These are the women I surround myself by, the women who I have laughed with, been on double dates with, spent nights watching “Sex in the City” with, cried with, yelled at, and of course... my personal Maggie touch to all close relationships... written CRAZY passive aggressive emails to before thinking twice about what I'm actually saying to them. Luckily, they're all just the type, to laugh and say, “Ohhhh Maggie.”

I have to say, that if I've learned one thing through the big mess that I like to call my life, is that you always have your mother and your girlfriends. And really, I don't know how I didn't realize it before. I've always been taken in by these women (physically, emotionally, financially, etc.), and I've had all my 3am phone calls answered...even if hung up on just as fast ;) They have taught me what it means to love another person completely and selflessly, what it means to make your own dreams a priority, and what it feels like to truly and wholeheartedly believe in someone else. They have taught me how to forgive, they have brought me my first laughter after months of depression, and they have taught me what it feels like to have someone love you no matter what. They have taught me that lying is not worth it, whether it's lying to yourself or to others. They have taught me how to communicate, and how to let people 100% in. Quite frankly, they have taught me how to be alive and how to live a fulfilling life.

What these women have given me is something no man has ever, or will ever, teach me... because maybe, I've already been “saved” by the women in my life. I searched my Seattle over for a man that would bring me all of this, and thank god I didn't find one. I'm much better off today than I've been in the last seven years, even counting the hormonal and blissful minutes of my relationships. I am living for me, everyday, and I'm still close to the key six women in my life. I honestly, and I'm not kidding, never knew you could live for YOU and still be fantasticly tied to someone else... and now I have six of them.

I count myself blessed that I have so many best friends. Recently, my roommate asked how I can call so many different women “best friends”, and my answer is simple: Each of them are wildly different, we do completely different things with each other... yet, they each are crucial to my heart. I've found true intimacy with them, I value them, and they know more about me than anyone on this earth. They are apart of why I am the way I am, not because they force me to be like them, but because they teach me how to be myself. We are all different and have met through completely random encounters: there are actresses, a sport fanatic, a woman who I was terrified of all through high school, a woman who met her husband while in high school (gag me), and my crazy mother. None of them are quiet like eachother, but all of them know and love (...well maybe just put up with) every part that makes me who I am.

A key part of this, that I thank every heartbreak for, is that my doucherocket exes (and my deadbeat biological father) have somehow brought these women into my life. Whether it be women I met through my boyfriend's friends, a woman a boyfriend has screwed over just as bad as he did me, or a woman who happened to get laid by my biological father... baha... I love you mom..... The point is, my heartbreak had purpose enough to bring these woman soulmates into my life, so maybe (and at this point it's just a maybe), these heartbreaks also had the purpose to make me stronger, love myself more, be able to weed out the bad seeds on a first date, and just all around make me the woman I am supposed to be. One day I might say they were supposed to happen so I can meet “the one”, but at this point, the thought only makes me swallow my throw-up burp.

Oh! And welcome to my blog: I'm a complete narcissist :)