9 posts tagged “friends”

I've just realized that i can write about all kinds of things about everybody else and how i feel about everybody elses business and ideas and minds and thoughts.
But when it gets rough inside me i don't bring it to paper. I don't even bring it to Vox. Which is probably the smarter thing to do cause that way i bring it to Holly or my mum or , sometimes even, to my grandmother or friends.
But i don't write about it anymore. My life is quite troubled currently. I worry about quite a lot, my graduation, my drivers license, my lack of sleep and food. There's more stuff.
And still, it's feeling like it's bringing me closer to myself. I've always had issues with getting in contact with myself. I could try to lock myself in a room and spend time with myself but this usualy ends with me being utterly depressed. Whilst i don't know if being with myself triggers the depression or if it's just me being stupid. Most likely the latter.

When i was younger i was battling this lack of contact with cutting and self-abusive behaviour in general. My (step-) dad used be violent against me. Quite much, actually. I remember my mum saying that i was provocing his behaviour and that secretly, I wanted to get the response he was giving me.
Of course she only said that when she cried hysterically, being completely overwhelmed with everything and not knowing what else to say. And of course i reacted like any 13 year old would react - hysterically calling her a cunt and storming off to get drunk ... Okay, well,not every 13 year old.
But the point is that she was kinda right. It's quite rough to admit that cause whatever my dad did was completely fucked up and i'll never forget ( dunno about forgiving, it's a thing you learn that your parents are just human aswell, somehow ). What he did was not right and even if i had physically made him hit me he shouldn't have done it.
However, in retrospect i think my mother was kinda right. And i'm still doing this - having people hurt me because i make them.

In his case he did it physically but we all know there are millions of other ways to hurt a person.
Back then the thought of me wanting to be put in the place of being hurt wasn't even crossing my mind but thinking about it know it does fit my self-abusive personality in a bunch of ways - which is scary in one way and peace-giving in another.
It's hard to explain. Amy Winehouse ( to bring in my latest obsession ) said in an interview that there'a song called "He hit me and it felt like a kiss" by the The Crystals. Most people would be like "oh my god, she's supporting domestic violence." ...But i know exactly what she's saying.

For the past, i dunno, about a week now? So yeah, for the past week my way to school has been lightened up a little. Quite a bit.
It appears I like geeks.
It appears i'm in a big hole called romanticism.

It's a beautiful, beautiful hole. I'm all sucked up in it and i like it a lot.
It makes me do things. Quite extraordinary things, yet so simple and delicate they're barely noticeable. This pitch black, wooden hole of romance is making me smile. This entirety of darkness and spring breezes is making me change my hairdo and walk like a woman.

He's tall and he's skinny and he has blonde geek hair, a black coat covering most of his slim body up. It makes him appear even taller, i think. I imagined him naked and whenever i do he's a little less tall so i can kiss him perfectly well in all kinds of cinderella manners i've been told about.They are true girl&boy kisses.

It's a very intimate feeling. All it does is make me feel crushed. I'm not a girl for usual relationships, it seems. All that was ever given to me was one big true love breaking my heart and useless attempts out of pure boredom and being suffocated by my surroundings.
Now there is something new.

He is passing me by every little morning and every time I grin when he rushes away into the train - he's always nearly letting it pass, he's always almost too late. Seconds later i smile at him through the whide, yellowed windows of the tube wether he's looking or not.

That's the time of the day I like most. For a week it's been my  favourite time of the day. If i had to fill out a survey about favourite times of days i'd  check the box  next to where it says "7.27am - 7.29am". It's a very very good time of day for me.

He's got the geek-purse. It's beautiful, black leather, with a long leather band sliding around his long, long upper body and back. He's always walking very upright. It's a big purse and you can tell it's been used for a little while now,  contrasting his black, new fleece coat.
I like his shoes, too. Men never wear good shoes, do they. There's the emo or rock kids with their Converse looking like bummers and the slick types with their smooth sneakers or black boots looking overdressed. Also the ones with their white-white-white sneakers which they love more than anything else.
He's got perfect shoes.

Every time I close my eyes seing him step inside the train. I count to four, it's one and two and three and four, my fingers counting down - then i open my eyes up again. I try to find him, catch a glimpse of him inside the packed train. I'm feeling like i'm window shopping and wish i could just shoplift him. From where i'm passing the street as the train takes a turn and leaves in my direction.
I've never been the type for the usual relationships. Really.

He's beautiful and I just wanna kiss him.He's a geek. You can tell entirely from looking at him. He's got clear skin and a beautiful face structure. With the way he rushes by you can almost smell his awkward way of talking - atleast that's what i pretend to smell.
When he's gone i forget him again for the rest of the day. He just doesn't appear again. But the very next morning he's there again, rushing by, catching his train, me passing by being amused by my reaction to his random appearance in my system.

I'm waiting for the day he'll miss it for the first time, having to notice me.

This was intended as a reminiscing piece about my lovely groupie moment ( probably my first and last ) with Jesse Hughes from the Eagles of Death Metal.

It's all typed out, called „Oh my.odt“ sleeping peacefully on my desktop. That's where it will stay, i guess.

It was my little rockstar moment, kissing one of my favourite rock 'n' rollers on Valentines day is quite a lovely thing to remember i'd say. It's also quite rockin' to have his scarf and probably the cutest autograph one could get.

But that's all there is to it. I could make a big story out of it – I actually did by writing the „oh my“- file. I could make it a whole big deal. Maybe i'll post it somewhen, maybe i won't. It's just.. it's not that important.

What is important is that i just made my mum a lovely cake with lots of little chocolate hearts on it and looooads of whip cream on it and a heart in the middle with little stars on it. The important part is that i have finally finally realized that i do have a life i can go back to. I love my friends, i truly do, the rare bunch i've shoved around me. I love my job at the kindergarden. I am nearly done with school and i can't wait. There's so much else. There's so much bad and sucky and bleh. But it's good. I have a life i can rely on. I have a life i chose over a coked up night with random rockstar sex. Nothing against a little smooching y'know. But still. "No thank you Jesse.I gotta get back home.School tomorrow and work aswell."

This is such an overwhelming feeling i'm crying right now and i've been everytime i thought about it.

I'm so fucked up you have no idea. I truly never would have thought of myself as somebody who has something to fall back into. But i do. I really do.

you don't really believe he's sipping on tea, do you?

What method do you use to prepare your coffee or tea? 
Submitted by AgentBouche.

black. coffee that is. tea is for the british or the crazy.

All you crazy Starbucks kids really need to have one of those. Sometimes i wonder if there's actually any coffee left in those no-fat-decaf-no-cream-no-nothing-pure-water-thingies.

There's nothing better than black, bitter stimulating black black coffee.

Guess who has had a double-date deluxe last saturday? Yes, ma'am Janine and Svenja. Apparently they went over to Janines with each of their boyfriends and watched a movie, haven't gotten many details.
Awww, Isn't that sweet?

They're not having tea either...

&Yes, i'm just jealous.I really am.I wish i had a boyfriend who'd be the ultimate key to a triple-date! Imagine the fun!

In the three years i've known Janine i've been over to her house exactly two times, once for her birthday party with a hideous amount of people she had talked to once in her life, second time for a bbq with some other kids.
Nows, of course i want Svenja to do whatever she pleases to do and i couldn't care less about them ( as in „those two“ ) meeting up but this really makes me wanna yell "Geeesus, lady you're replacing people in your life more often than you change your pants." at Janine, really.

This whole experience with and around Janine shakens how i see friendships quite a lot. It's a time where i'm changing anyway and some of her actions make me doubt actually some of my principles.

I mean the question forcing itself onto me is clearly „Are people like this?“ More defined „Are girls like this?“.

Is this how my generation sees friendships? Replacable excuses to say "Yes, i did do something on saturday night other than watching telly alone in my room. I'm not a loser. You see? You see?I did do something!!", because that is indeed exactly how those lazy attempts of social interaction people are making these days feel to me.

There are exceptions of course, like there always are and hopefully always will be. But the majority? All pure bullshittin' cocksuckers with low self-esteem trying to get a saturday-night date going on without having to really put an effort in it.

that's what a parteeey should look like, peachessss!

"Pizza and movies? At my house?Sure!!...Oh, you wanna go outside first? Uhm,

like can't we skip that part?"

To say it clearly, those people rather rent Saturday night fever for the seventienth time instead of going out and doing it. It's a lazy attempt to cover up how uneventful and steady their lifes are. Imagine all the people renting a flic about partying going out actually partying. There'd be boogie all over, kiddos. Boggie all the way downtown.

Don't get me wrong, I am  a hermit. I'm the biggest loner you will ever meet, it's a friggin' miracle i'm actually having friends surrounding me and it certainly isn't suprising the least bit that my best friend lives an ocean away in the deep woods of Wales, England. ( Phone calls in the middle of the night in need of a ride home? Nope. Sudden appearance in front of my door, 4 in the morning, cried out eyes saying she's staying for a „couple“ of nights? Nope again. Advantages. Pure advantages i tell ya. )

Yet, if my dear friend Franzi messages me on a friday evening and i can tell she wants to go out desperately - Really go out, not some half-arsed gathering to drink some cocktails and/or the latest J.Lo flic ( i can tell from experience – no.not mine!- that's the most disgusting combo ever.ever.never try.never! ) - if i can tell that she needs a real night out. With a friend, a silly drinking and cozying up on the toilet the early next morning kind of thing.

If that happens i get up and out doing what she needs me to do.

Is that too much? Too much of an effort for something like friendship? This odd thing nobody seems to really know about these days anymore?
It would be quite a pissing miss-out for everybody if so, really.

I remember being about five years old, the age you go out on play dates your mum has set up for you desperately seeking to get rid of you because good lord you're quite a shithead for being five. Which five year old paints whole bathtubs in hot pink Cover girl nailpolish? Who in the world?!

But anyway, you go on this playdate your mum had to lie you in ( „She's a real good girl these days, we had a hard time, i'm sure you've heard about when she tried to kill this little boy, Mike was his name, i think?“ ) and after half an hour you start screaming your lungs and heart out because you simply cannot fucking stand this obnoxious girl in front of you with her blonde curly her and all you wanna do is drown her bubbly „personality“ in the bath tub you just decorated with the dog poop you found downstairs ( Fun stuff. ) .

Arctic monkeys - from ritz to rumble - "Said this town's a different town to what it was last night

So your mum picks you up and starts banging her head against the steering wheel of her 1989 Ford thinking about that one time the doctor asked . „Are you sure you want this child, miss?“.

Y'know she could have gotten a Benz for all the diapers instead.

Thing is, you got picked up again if you didn't wanna stay and screamed hard enough and/or resisted her 20something ( I know I know..what a flashback! The 80ies! When parents weren't either 14, neither were they going for their three digits-age when getting a child! What a time, what a time! ) in front of you trying to calm you down with all kinds of precious candy.That's just what moms do, wether they have a 4o'clock appointment at the local Spa with the hot message therapist called Antonio or not. They hop into their cars with just a towel wrapped around their body and pickels in their face in worry of you.

I think basically that's what ruined all those bummers these days. They know they can get out of things if they just bail hard enough. If they „forget“ to charge their phone and if their boyfriends are just have that tiny bit of anti-social attitude they can get out of situations they don't like every damn single time.

Apparently, after a bit of research i have found out that my mum sometimes would pretend to be stuck in traffic and finish her spa session being about 2 hours late to pick me up. The babysitting moms by then were usualy calling the cops as i was killing either the cat or their kids. Fun stuff, once more.

All those bummers now, who have been picked up the second they started yelling ( before the freaked out phone call by the other mom. ) , seem to have turned out as anti-social bailing-pros who can't stand or do anything that seems as too much of an effort.

Solution?

I say shoot them! Shoot them all and burn their phones because they won't use them anyway!

See, i truly believe that if you sometimes just do things without thinking about them, drowning that little voice saying „You don't really wanna do this.You need sleep. And a bath. Or a shower atleast.There's laundry and dishes to clean and homework to do!“ , if you just drown that little bastard in the leftover bits of your CoverGirl pink nailpolish you might just end up doing something extraordinary.

Something like one of your closest mates in your favourite club on a friday night moshing with you to Blurs Song #2 even though she's one of those chicks doing the booty-shake on the daily base. Something that brings you closer to the people you love. Because you do something out of the extaordinary for them.

I'm aware a Hip-Hop-listening 19 year old moshing to Punk songs isn't John Travolta in SNF, i'm aware, yesyes. It's way more real though and way more precious aswell.

It's a very delicate feeling but it's making people spend their last money to come to London with you because you simply asked them to. Just for instance of course.

Maybe that's worth it. Maybe it's not. I just wonder if double dates and John Travolta movies making the little voice in your head shut up for a little but not too long is going to work for your whole life. The entire decades, that is. Every single day. Or if not one day you're going to ask yourself if you couldn't have spent the $2.75 on Cruel Intentions seven, eight and ten for a train ticket or a pint in the pub with your mate.

So, life?

On thursday Janine brought me my grand-grandmas ring back. Why did she have it? Cause I gave it to her two years ago. It's a beautiful piece of gold with purple jewels in it. It's very decent and unspectecular, but so sweet in detail that you can't miss it.

I used to have three of them. One with dark green jewels, the purple one and a light blue one. All surrounded by fine gold. All given to me through my grandmother skipping my mother in the line.

They're precious to me and Janine always mentioned how beautiful she thought it was. One day i decided to give on to her. I said „Janine, i'm going to give this to you. It's my grand-grandmothers ring. It's nearly 50 years old, maybe older even and it means the world to me. That woman meant the world to me. If i'm going to give this to you you have to promise to give it back to me if one day we're not friends anymore.“ , she agreed and with that it was hers.

Now on february 8^th 2007 i got it back.

QotD:
Show us the person who knows you best.

'Oley

<-- hawkedriot

yesyes.that's her.she's quite hot isn't she.i know how to pick cool people hehe she knows quite big parts of me.all the shit parts mostly.most of the good ones as far as i have some aswell.she's precious.

& that's the girl who used to know me best..her name's manu.i used to love her.and she loved me back.it's been a while.we hurt each other lots.but yeah she knew me.

Looking at both the pictures holly and her have the same kind of attitude, don't they! hehe just kidding.

i wish i could find a picture of Diana.she used to know great bits of me aswell.Back when i was so young i didn't even barely know who 'me' was.. i think she defined what i understand as 'love' today.We were friends...and even though i can't really imagine being with a chick again i think Diana defined great deals of what is me today back then.In a way that isn't just friendship but goes further.I think back then i'd have given my life for her.Or so it felt atleast..With all her crazy loveness.

i'm glad they have been ( or are ) here.with me.and stuff.i'm such a pussy.