Toenails, accidents, and bobby pins...

Ok guys…this one’s a doozy…but forgive me for my keyboard diarrhea :) Another segment from "indian princess 'too-much-in-headum'" (thanks Mel).

Yesterday was the 23rd of January. According to Jenny, this is the most depressing day of the year. You know how I live my life by the book, so of course this held true for me! I got into my first accident in ages. Ugh- we won’t even go into it. I’m ok, the other person’s ok, and both cars were (relatively) uninjured. But still…it makes my stomach clench up thinking about it. Then I got into a little argument with a friend. My adrenaline was just sky-high. I guess, down on paper, this doesn’t look so bad, eh? But I just wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head.

It was one of those stupid arguments that shouldn’t even be an argument- I won’t go into details. But you just want the other person to see where you’re coming from and feel what you feel. But you don’t have the words; you can’t make them see things from your perspective. So you get frustrated, then you get angry. Wouldn’t it be easier if we could bypass language, just look at someone and they’d know where we were coming from, our intentions, our feelings? Language is so clumsy, words are so fallible. It’s dangerous terrain, this thing we call communication. Needless to say, I was more frustrated than anything, and am incredibly sorry it got blown out of proportion.

Last night I came to a realization. I realize that I’ve been single now for about 4 months, but it’s funny how I’m still realizing new things about not being in a relationship. Last night’s bit of insight came when I was driving home from Lisa and Carrie’s house (yummy dinner, guys-thanks!). Ok…when you’re in a relationship, and you have a funny story, or something crappy happens, who’s the first person you tell (or want to tell)? Of course it’s your significant other. It’s like one person knows your life history, or at least the segment of life history that occurs while you are together. And the longer you’re together, the more segments you share, until they have (almost) the whole orange. They have you. Every embarrassing childhood memory, every disappointment, the parts you hide from the outside world. But also your secret dreams, your plans for the future. After 8 years, my ex-girlfriend could probably tell my life story as well as (if not better than) I myself could.

But…then what happens if you break up? Who do you tell these things to? Ok, you may have a close friend, you may even have a best friend, but she’s not the one you go home to at night. She’s not the one that sees you at your worst, with morning breath, unwashed hair…the one who knows you’re secretly afraid to use the blow dryer when you’re at home alone (um…for example). So then what? You tell your stories, events of your life to this person, these people. But each person gets just little pieces…and one day you realize that there’s not one single person who truly knows you and your events…there’s not one single person who has you completely. And it’s freaking scary! On the positive side, there’s also nobody to blow your cover if you choose to embellish your stories (No, but then my whole KITCHEN caught on fire…and I extinguished it using my bare HANDS!), there’s nobody to roll their eyes when they hear the story of how that stripper pursued you relentlessly while you were in high school (hehehe).

So maybe, just maybe, this blog thing is so appealing to me because I can get it all out in one place- no fragmentation, no breaks. Even if nobody reads this in its entirety, at least I know it’s there :)

So…L-Word was good this week. My favorite part was when Moira gave her lobster talk…

Ok, I’m being pursued lately by bobby pins. I know that sounds kinda sketchy, but it’s true (Mel, it’s like when you were being stalked by dolphins, so don’t laugh!). First, I found one in my clean laundry. I think it belonged to my downstairs neighbor, Erika (a totally hot girl, by the way!). Then, I found some in my sofa after a Girl came over to my place. Next, I found one in my car when I was cleaning it out. And I don’t think that anyone who has ridden in my car lately wears hair pins. Now, where the Hell did it come from? Finally, when I went to get my car’s oil changed, there was a random bobby pin sitting on a chair in the waiting room (with a hair still in it-yuck!). Seriously, this was all in the course of like 2 weeks! I haven’t even seen a bobby pin in ages and suddenly they’re on me like Brian on Darren (hehe…I love you Brian!)

Ok, that’s all…hopefully my next post won’t be so impossibly long.

One little note/question: I read that 15% of all people are toenail biters. Any ideas on this? Who among us is flexible enough? I admit, I’ve done it before. Anybody else brave enough to step up? Or do I stand (er…chew) alone?