Letters Unsent… But maybe they should be

I often struggle between my inner dialog and the one that goes through my lengthy filtering process. When friends ask for my opinion or advice, which happens way more often than I care to say, I often ask myself repeatedly ‘should I really give it??’ ‘do they really want it, or are they just asking so I will reassure them that their decision is perfect and I am their minion?’ ‘Don’t they know by now I’m gonna be honest??’ ‘Why the fuck are they asking me??’ Then I give a kindly worded, much pondered, answer that may not be what they wanted to hear. But oh well, you asked. However, there have been a few things since my last post that I haven’t addressed. Frankly, this shit is tiring. Buddha (or whoever writes cool quotes and says they are from Buddha- either way, I like it) said that carrying around anger (or resentment or frustration or unaddressed hurt- those mine) is like holding a burning coal in your hands and expecting the other person to get burned. Smart guy this Buddha. So I’m gonna drop some hot rocks. Prepare yourselves bitches…

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Dearest Friend,

Please stop apologizing for the things that happened almost ten years ago. We both made mistakes and we both did stupid things. We let pride and ego and self come between us and now… We don’t. We’ve grown, we’ve changed, we’ve suffer losses without each other to wipe tears. We’ve had wins without each other to celebrate. We’ve seen the people that we drifted toward drift from us and we’ve made our way back to each other. Yes it’s different. No, we are not the inseparable pair we were then… But we wouldn’t have the amazing men in each of our lives. Now we are friends. Not just friends, but true friends. Friends with history and shared heartache and shared love and shared laughs and shared jokes that no one else understands. We can be three but cycle and the other one will always get it. So move forward, because we can’t finish the movie if we keep rewatching in the last scene.

I love you princess. More than my shoes… Even the ones I don’t wear anymore.  

Less than three.

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Dear Friend (are we still?),

Thank you for finally articulating your feelings after simply dropping off my radar for three weeks. I really thought we had the kind of friendship where you could drop by and say ‘hey friend, we need to hash something out’, but I guess we don’t. To be honest, it wasn’t so much the content of what you said texted that hurt most, but that you couldn’t talk to me… That you still can’t talk to me. Don’t get me wrong, what you said affected me too… In a what the actual fuck? Am I really reading this right now? Noooo, really?? Kind of way. I have been the same person since well, always. I think what’s really changed is the message. You don’t like what you are hearing now. A few years ago the message was supportive, because that was my truth to you then. Now the message isn’t as supportive, it’s more questioning, more of a devils advocate. It’s still given with kindness and in my voice, but I am not towing your party line. I’m not sorry. I think you are making some horrible decisions. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the decisions you are making are good and I’m wrong. Or maybe I’m the enabler. Maybe these couple months without hangin out with me have been good. No one is helping you spend time self destructing. If it took my “hurting your feelings” to get you to pull your shit together then I’m not sorry, not that I was anyway. I don’t hold on to those coals. It doesn’t help anyone, least of all me.

I hope the last couple months have been really good for you. I hope the kids are well and if they ever want to come over for Mac n cheese and minions, I always have time for them. And when you are ready to have a conversation, with words… Through your mouth, I’ll be here. Same as always. Because unconditional is the only way I know how.

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Units,

Fucking figure it out because we didn’t choose, you did. So fucking act like it. Act like you give a shit, because frankly, I don’t. Others do, but I don’t. And do you have any idea how much it takes for someone like me to stop caring??? Ask around, ask my friends, ask other people that know me, ask people on the street. It is known. But I am done and over it. The fucks are gone, the shits have done been given. The love that remains falls under the obligation category but the like… There is no requirement for like that in the handbook. I checked. For fuck sake. This isn’t even about me, it’s about them, the ones that still have something left to give.

I can’t even. Words are failing me and words are what I do. I just can’t.

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Yang,

You have put the knees on my bees. You are the grammar nazi to my writers journal. I have had best friends that are forever friends (you have met the princess) but you are somehow a part of me I didn’t know I needed. You give voice to things I can’t and help me rein in the compassion that seems to flow unimpeded when you aren’t around. At the same time, I think I lend a chisel to your edge and a filter to your outer voice that you may have been looking for… The chisel and filter that have been sitting there in their pretty boxes just waiting for their home. Plus, you get the parts of my favorites that I don’t, and you eat the centers of my cinnamon rolls and you smoke when you aren’t on fire giving me a chance to take a break when I need it. 

I love you too, more than my shoes… enough to let you borrow them and give them to you if you want them. Or find a better pair made by ALDO and send them to you as a gift.

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Dear Country,

I knew some of you were not that bright. I knew some of you would believe anything the channel you watch most told you. I even knew some of you were such fucking sheep that you would listen to the loudest one in the room even if he was telling you that you were on fire, while you were wading in a swimming pool. I did not think enough of you were were so blind and ignorant that you would allow such an obvious piece of shit to leave his mark on your door. I did not think you would lay back and open your legs to what is obviously the smallest dick of them all, while he tells you how huge it is… And then tell him how huge his centimeter feels. Haven’t you had enough of this nonsense? Haven’t you felt sufficiently reemed? Must you allow this to continue so the rest of us have to endure your shame? Once again I find myself struggling to find words to properly describe the disgust I feel at the people I have to share citizenship with.

Wake the fuck up! You think we have issues with “terrorists” now? What the fuck do you think will happen if you right wing nut jobs succeed at putting this idiot in office? You know, the guy that has insulted every race, creed and culture I can think of. Do you think we’ll be fine? Do you think it will be okay, that his GIANT centimeter cock will protect you?? Think again motherfuckers… All the “terrorists” that hate each other may stop for a minute and get together to decide- hey, wait… We need to go show the giant, entitled, overinflated, American wack-job that he fucked with too many of us. You can fuck with the people that guy hates, or the guy over there, but not everyone, that’s just greed. Terrorists hate American greed. And who is a bigger poster boy for American greed than our Republi-cock candidate? NO ONE.

So sort yourselves out. This has gone way past funny to, again ridiculous.For fuck sake people.

For. Fuck. Sake.

I can’t even. Again the words are failing me and words are what I do. I just can’t.

So I will let someone else… (It’s not new… But it will work)

I’m Pretty Sure That it’s Fucksox Friday

Did you know there is an actual thing called a whirly-gig? yeah… its that wooden thing they stake into your lawn that has hands or feet or something that “whirl” around…. I myself thought I was a whirly-gig but it turns out I was in fact wrong.

So for this Fucksox Friday I take my cue from her Snarkness, and instead of waxing on and on about whatever.

sooo I’m pretty sure that,

…Ben Franklin was right and beer is proof that god wants us to be happy.

…no one should ever be able to wear Hypercolor again. PERIOD.

…if what doesn’t kill is supposed to make us stronger – my neighbor deserves a bigger set of biceps and a rockhard fucking ass.

…you shouldn’t walk around lookin like a whore on holloween, with your child in tow… save that shit for the adult party.

…my boss has no idea whatsoever. none. I am so overqualified that in about a week I could make her obsolete.

…love is love no matter who is giving and who is receiving. It’s sad that a piece of paper has become so fucking important.

…living in a small ass college town for the last 18 years has caused me to look at women differently and pretty much think that all of them are whoores between the age of 18 and 22.

…living in a small ass college town for the last 18 years has caused me to look at men differently and pretty much think that all of them are whoores between the age of 28 and 42.

…I hate the color yellow.

…if I hadn’t been so frightened as a child by so many bad things I would be a complete stoner.

…Bret Michaels should not be allowed anywhere near a microphone. Ever.

…I married satan’s spawn when I was 20. He left scars that still open at the most inopportune times 12 years after we got divorced.

…if I didn’t have those scars, I’d probably be an ugly person.

…fuckin Chuck Norris is a gangster and could take out Steven Segal any day.

…that I have been very recently influenced, loved and cared for by some amazing women (and men) I have never met and it has reminded me that we as humans are really basically good and become bad through our own choices.

…my cell phone has retarded me, as have calculators and computers… really. Do you know all your family member’s phone number’s by heart or have them written on paper??? that’s what I thought.

…I would love a shot of Jameson right now but also sure it would be a bad idea.

…that I have not had a mindPod shuffle the entire time I’ve been writing this list.

…Clowns are fucking SCARY!!!!!!!!!!

…there are some things you can never unsee: your parents fucking, your grandparents fucking, scatporn, the cross fucking scene from the Exorcist, some of the crap on awkward family photos and Human Centepede.

…the Abe Lincoln is the best type of beard. (I’ll shank you over this)

…Sushi, should be Japanese, Thai food should be um Thai and Chinese food should not contain msg.

…I love TOOL and think Maynard is a genius but do not want to have his babies, lick his shoes or any of the other ridiculous things I have seen people offer just to meet him. He’s a human, talented, but human. whatever.

…my mindPod smells like teen spirit.

…I love all kinds of music but cringe when Lynerd Sknyrd comes on.

…you should not get married because you are knocked up. Even if her/your dad threatens you. It rarely works.

…there is love at first sight, sometimes the least likely couples actually have it figured out.

…you man can never be too good looking, your drink can never be too strong and you can NEVER have too many shoes.