First, I would like to apologize for this late entry. Its been a crazy week, and a very good friend of mine just had her first son (okay she’s not a very good friend of mine but under the circumstances she has no one else and I have to become the very good friend while she deals with the agony of healing after giving the world a precious eight pound bundle of joy). All I have to say is after years of envisioning my own wonderful childbirth experience I may have to seek counseling before making this leap into motherhood. Having said this it is ironic that my mom asked me today when am I going to marry my three year plus boyfriend, and my response was “Mom, he doesn’t want kids.“… Believe me there will be many restless nights, as there have been these past three plus years, that this topic will undoubtedly be instigated by me with the ever innocent and eloquent “Honey, we need to talk…” speech. But, I will keep that conversation for another episode of my life. Coming to a WordPress blog near you!
Last weekend was a very laid back self indulged episode of my life. But, I did have the occasional drama attack moment on Saturday when after work I decided to stop by a street art fair. I had probably spent about half an hour on the phone with my girl Nat, and another hour at the fair when I saw one of my frenemies striding down the street at the fair. Luckily I had taken the oppurtunity to indulge in conversation while sitting between a macho infused sculpture of a medieval man and a bare posterior painting of a woman that I envied. The sun’s light did wonders for her figure and forced me to do nothing but stare down and tell Nat on the phone in a pleading yet undaunting manner how I would confront T in our never ending saga of Frenemies Attack. Needless to say I took the high road and turned towards the back of a booth filled with what I considered unimpressive avant-garde paintings. It was then that I thought of my frenemies aligned waiting in darkness to attack me, perhaps glimpsing from the corner of the thick and lean statues like dancing shadows of art. I running past circuses of disillusioned and fantasy paintings only to be plunged into their world of betrayal. But the truth is I would have fought back had this been some world without boundaries, had there been anarchy and selfishness in the game. I would have buzzed them out with my Guitar Hero mad skills, and stained them with a YouTube victory video.
I only stared back to watch T walking past in a hurried manner towards the el; I imagined that perhaps she too had thought of my attacks at that moment and wanted to scream out “I took the high road!” before she could acknowledge her under deserved privilege of having missed a butt whoop/ get-out-of-my-way smack down. So instead I choose to find relief and solitude at the most amicable of places- the movie theater. I sat with Nat that evening watching Hell Boy II, smiling as I tried to ignore my rusty precarious seat and calmly shifted my weight, leaning back to muffle the cries of a child frightened by the darkness that only presides in the movies.