Ice, Ice, Baby

A few days ago, I went ice skating with some friends. I was superexcited about the trip all week, trying to get more and more people to join me. When people asked if I was a great skater, I said I'd only gone once or twice when I was a kid, but I didn't see why that should stop me. I put my makeup on and got all cute and went outside to meet the girls I was going with and we excitedly walked over to the hockey rink. There was food and hot apple cider and people holding hands and skating, and it was so incredibly quaint and cute that I rushed over to the stand to rent my skates and began putting them on. 

...And that's where the trouble began. I could barely STAND in them; how was I ever going to skate? My friend tried to convince me it wouldn't be so bad once I got out there, so I followed her onto the ice...and froze. What had I been thinking??? That I could just go out there on the ice for the first time in ten years and whiz past people like a pro? That ice skating was going to be just like roller skating? That I was just naturally good at everything? Whatever crazy misconception of my own life I'd been suffering from, it disappeared rather quickly as I realized I had no idea what I was doing out there. 

So the wall surrounding the rink became my new best friend. Wallflowers aren't just for high school dances anymore; in my bright red sweater, I was a flower on the wall of Baker Rink. I held onto it for dear life and slowly made my way around the circumference of the rink. On my second time around, there was a girl doing worse than me, blocking my way on the wall and I had to leave the wall and skate unaided around her. My friend M saw this, applauded me for having let go of the wall for 10 seconds, and held out her hand to help me skate around with her without the wall for support. I was nervous, but I went around once with her; I still didn't feel comfortable afterward, though, and retreated to the wall. Then I saw my friend E, who I know used to be a figure skater in high school, and told her about how hard skating was for me. She said my skates were too loose, and once I fixed them, it was a whole new ball game! I began to skate near the wall, rather than holding onto it, and when my friend K held out her hand to skate with me, I wasn't that scared! It was especially poignant because about a month ago I taught her to roller skate in almost the same exact way, and I remember how scared and shaking she was; oh how the tables turn. An event photographer even took a picture of us in our cuteness, and when she went to get some food, I kept skating around by myself! Before the end of the night, I attempted to help teach someone else to skate better, learned the basics of skating backwards, and was DANCING in my skates on the ice. 

Moral of the story: Recognize that being a wallflower is NOT cute. Recognize that you can do it, even if it's foreign and difficult in the beginning. Recognize that your friends are there to help you, and take their hands when they offer them in assistance. This whole damn world's a slippery, slidey, carved-up-and-full-of-nicks-and-grooves place, but if support and teamwork and patience and love got K, M, and I through the night without ever falling, then chances are pretty good we'll stay on our feet for a good long while. 

(Just don't try to get too fancy. J was the only one who fell all night, after tryna show off, haha.)

This one goes out to all my ladies

I have love on my arms in six languages today. All that love, it's for you, all the ladies of all the world. Today, and every day, I want you to know that you are loved. You are appreciated. People care about you. You matter to someone. Your thoughts and opinions matter, as do your safety and well-being. I want to remind you, ladies, that your bodies are your temples, so treat them with love and care, and remember that no one can tell how wonderful you are on the inside unless you reflect that on the outside. To all the women who feel like there aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done, take a twelfth of one of those hours (ie. five minutes) for yourself, take off the invisible 'S' you carry around on your chest all day, and breathe; you'll be shocked at how much easier the rest of the day comes. To all the women who don't know where the rent money is going to come from, or how you're going to put food on the table for your kids, I admire your strength and resilience, and I know that if my mom could do it, you can do it too; you are in my thoughts and I hope the best for you. To all the women beating themselves up striving for perfection: stop and take a look around; you're already there. And to all the women who gave up their pursuits of happiness a long time ago, I want you to go stand outside and feel the sun shine on your skin, the rush of the wind through your hair, the laughter of the kids playing next door, and remember that while there may be darkness and pain and struggle and strife in this world, there is also joy and light and blessed moments of peace, and above all else there is love, and this is worth living for. To these women and more, I have love on my arms and it's all for you.

____________________________________________________________

"To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.

To Write Love On Her Arms Day is a day where anyone can write the words love on their arms, to support those who are fighting against depression and those who are trying to recover. On this day, just write love on your arms, and show it off, other people will ask why you have love written on your arms, and you tell them you are supporting to write love on her arms day, and how its benefiting a non profit organization helping stop depression, and make love the movement ♥"

Compliments

Sometimes it's really hard to be sincere. There's this guy I know, and there's something I want to tell him. Don't even go there--this something is not romantic in any way. I just want to give him a compliment; I just can't figure out how to do it in a way that's a) not socially awkward, and b) that he won't laugh it off like I'm kidding, because I'm seriously not.

He impresses me. Hell, he downright amazes me, and though some of the brightest minds in the country are here, very few people are overall amazing to me. He pushes himself harder than most people I know, in every single aspect of his life, and everything he touches is golden. He's also nice and sweet and I just, I want him to know that I think this highly of him. I admire him.

I have this other friend, who I love equally and admire almost equally, who commented the other day about how I observe too many things about him, things most people would never notice. I wanted to say I watch him because, while it might seem like I'm always trying to change him, I sometimes wish I could be like him.

But people don't say these things. It's a shame.

Best compliment a black woman can ever receive from another black woman:

"I would buy hair like yours." -My friend T

Four-Letter Words

Some folk don't like them. (Sorry, had to make that whole sentence four-letter words, lol.) Fuck. Damn. Shit. Hell. I use these words a lot. Some would say too much. But there's one four-letter word I pepper my speech with possibly more than all the others combined, and that's L O V E. 

People say I'm a really affectionate drunk, and that I love everyone and everything once I've had a few. This is both true and untrue...most of the time, I just stop giving a fuck about what is socially normative in terms of affection and love when I've been drinking, and treat everyone how I'd like to treat them all the time. Because the people I grew up with, they taught me that a friend is someone you hug without asking, and whose back is comfier than any pillow, and who it's okay to contact 949379834 times a day, and for whom concern and worry are the most natural things in the world. A friend is only a strange half-step away from a lover, and that step might not even be down. And I love those definitions of friend; I'm not really ever going to be willing to give them up. I just attempt to tone (ha!) them down a little in daily life because other people are more reserved, or something, I guess. [And yet E talking about her wannabe boo who is so overly overtly physically affectionate like I want to be and how open and in touch with her emotions it makes her feel makes me consider dropping the normal act and--call me cliche, but--reaching out and touching someone whenever I get the inclination to.] 

What I'm getting at here is that I'm a pretty loving person, and I'm usually pretty open about that, even when I'm sober. I love mozzarella sticks, I love the way B's hair feels when I run my hands through it, and "M, I love you, but [insert some criticism or refusal here]". I love my single, I love studying in the large library, I love my JP topic, <3s in my facebook wall posts and when I'm saying goodbye to anyone on AIM or Skype. It's, like, the opposite of a big deal when I drop an "I love you" in casual conversation; people seem to interpret this as meaning "I appreciate/enjoy your company", which is fine by me.


But a friend of mine is going through some drama with his boyfriend that is causing me to, at the very least, wonder about this emotions-wide-open-heart-on-my-sleeve philosophy of life. His boyfriend said he loves him for the first time a few months ago, and he has been unable to say it back. Truth be told, I was really surprised when he told me this,  because he's one of the friends with whom I can't part ways without exchanging i-love-yous. But once he explained it to me, it made perfect sense. It's like, right now, to the best of his understanding, he loves his boyfriend the way he loves me, the way I drop I-love-yous in casual conversation, in the I love being around you/I love the way you make me feel/I love the person you are and the person I am when I'm with you kind of way, but totally not on that I wanna ride off into the sunset on a horse with you and live happily-ever-after tip. He's having trouble recognizing the differences between the various ways of loving other people, and whether there is a middle ground worth recognizing between the point A and point B I just described.


I've never talked about this to anyone before, but here's a secret. I accidentally told J I loved him on like, the second or third night of our relationship. It was really late and we were on the phone and it just seemed natural, because I am that kind of person. And on one level, I did love him then. Because on some level, I draw no line between "I love X-cool-thing about you" and "I love you". I never have. But what's going on with my friend and his boyf right now has made me realize that someday, this distinction will become important. I will have to know when it is okay to say I love you to someone I'm romantically involved with, and what that means compared to with someone I'm simply emotionally involved with. I will have to understand what the difference is. Why does it matter that I love my hypothetical boyfriend any more/in any other way than I love my actual best friends? I'm not sure that even makes sense to me. I don't see love in the real world as sunsets and horses and the whole cast breaking into song and dance; love is compromise and love is work and love is building something to come after honeymoon-happy. Love doesn't automatically entail ever-afters, but I don't think that means you can't love if you're not planning on buying the horse, if that's not too much of a mixed metaphor.


And this may possibly be the root of my recurring boy issues. I throw the word and the idea of love around so much that my brain doesn't really distinguish friend-love from romantic love or familial love (for instance, I say I love my girls like my sisters, but I treat them SO MUCH BETTER than I treat either of my sisters, and would be hard pressed to say I didn't care about them more. Goddamn, I'm rude. Anyway.), and thus flip-flops around between the two when it comes to boys I absolutely adore. So maybe if I figure this out, my boys can just be my boys and that's it. 


I just like to love people. I love almost instantly (along with trust), and will love and trust fiercely unless/until something is done to ruin that love and trust. Call me a hippie, but I just want to be able to love everyone, and for it to not ever be weird. I wish everyone gave hugs freely and leaned on people's shoulders when they felt like it. The world would be a better place.

As I passed the strip club today,

I saw that they've started advertising for their Thanksgiving special. It involves wrestling in a giant pumpkin pie. Maybe Quad has ruined me forever, having introduced me to food fights on a whole new level (chocolate pudding fight as part of Willy Wonka-themed initiations. Ask, if you'd like. I'll tell.), but the first thing I thought when I saw that was DAMN THAT SOUNDS LIKE FUN. 

Feel free to judge me, lmao. 

My New Motto in Life

What exactly my dear are you clinging to

Some propaganda stating you've gone as far as you're going to?

That your skies are finite and limited

That your growth is an impossible dream

That your future is inhibited

Aw please, they been shoveling them lies since the '50s

Can't nobody decide what your life can move through

This is your time and your challenge--what is it that you want to do?

Sit and be still and not shine the way your light was meant to?

Oh, I pray that ain't true, I pray that ain't true

Aw please, don't fall into the abyss because something negative once ruled you

Please understand I'm from where you are and I've got to fight my demons too

Please don't give up because somebody broke your heart and some things fell through

This is life. You owe it. Life does NOT owe you, okay?

An obstacle is something that impedes or blocks one's way

You can climb over, you can dig under, you can chip through it, you can go around it, you can move it, you can ignore it, but you can DO it

YOU      CAN        DO          IT

-Jill Scott, as seen in this song by Kem:

Fact: I really like my uncle's current girlfriend

because she makes an active effort to include me in post-amazing-meal-my-Nana-has-prepared discussion among the adults. As the only person in my local family who falls into my age category (ahhh, emerging adulthood constantly on the brain. Thanks, JP), I usually end up curled up on the couch in a corner reading and observing this conversation from afar. But now, she asks my opinion on things, or will direct something at me, and it is slowly having the effect of pulling me into the "adult" category of my family, as opposed to downstairs with the kids. But when I want to, I can still dip out of the conversation and return to my book and my couch. It's nice, I like no longer being isolated, but not having to be totally included either. Oh middle ground. :)

So unlike my dad, my mom always parks and goes in with me when she takes me to the airport. She goes through the line with me and stands with me near the entrance to the security check for as long as she can until it's obviously socially awkward that she's still there and she hugs me one last time and lets me go. I don't call her out on this, because part of me really likes it. 


There's something else she always does, though, while we're waiting in line to check in, or whenever she catches a glimpse of my PUID in my wristlet, or sometimes even if we come across an old picture or something: she sees a photo of me from back when I straightened my hair, and she says some variation of Oh look, there's my daughter. My daughter, with the long straight hair. My daughter, who was ashamed to embrace her own identity and spent the majority of her life trying to be something and someone she was not. My daughter, whose hair used to come out in clumps from all the heat and dangerous chemicals she put on it. Evidently that girl was my mother's daughter, and I am not. And I'm sure she doesn't event think about it when she says it, but a little piece inside me just crumbles whenever she says it. Like the person that girl was and the person I am will never be reconciled into one individual in my mother's eyes. Like she'll always want someone I'll never be again.

And speaking of straight-haired Maya as someone I'll never be again, this reminds me of the one thing that can snap me entirely out of ridiculous stupid not-crush phase with this guy: he has told me to my face that he thinks it's stupid that I have vowed to never straighten again. He thinks one of the things I should embrace about my hair is how versatile it can be. He thinks I should consider straightening it for special occasions or something--AS IF  STRAIGHT HAIR IS MORE SPECIAL THAN MY HAIR, as if I as myself am not special enough for a floor-length gown and a ball. He says I shouldn't feel like I'm conforming if I'm just wearing my hair in another style that looks good on me. I don't even know how to interpret thinking straight hair looks good on me; a) do I still think that?, b) do I think it because I think it or because I've spent my whole life with people telling me that's how my hair should look? Regardless, as much as I enjoy being with him, remembering that can kill any and every inkling of desire I have for something more. This is both relieving and unfortunate.

Conversely, to give some points to my father: When I first sent him a picture of me with my hair natural, he said it was the most ME I've ever looked. This is one of those things that he has said that I will never forget, but in a wonderfully positive way.

I wish I could chalk this up to friggin hormones...

...but I'm not even close to starting my period. So this is just stupid me being, well, stupid. I have absolutely no reason to miss you. I really and truly have absolutely no reason to miss you more than I miss my girls or the boys I'm supposedly *crosses fingers* like this with. There is no reason for my thoughts to keep drifting back to you. I'm worrying about you in that special way I only worry about people who are IMPORTANT. But I need to keep this in check, because I can't lay even the smallest of claims to you. And I shouldn't want to. I shouldn't take note of the fact that you are actually taller than me, or you're way more likely to call when a text would suffice. I shouldn't watch you study long enough to categorize your various thinking poses, or to know you once played piano because I spend that much time staring at your hands. And that night you took my survey and it almost made you cry? I can't yet tell if I shouldn't have wanted to hold you til the hurt went away. Because these are things I do with everyone, because being MY anything (even friend) means you get all of me in return, all of my worry, all of my love, all of my laughter and my adventure and my concern and my help and my hope and my weakness and my strength, attached to you with the tenacity of the loyalest of dogs.

FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE, CAN I PLEASE JUST ACQUIRE A NEW CLOSE MALE FRIEND WITHOUT GOING THROUGH THIS AWKWARD PINING PHASE?! Please and thank you.

Just so you know, I WILL NOT have a crush on you. This won't happen. Don't make me start singing Meg's song from Hercules. My heart needs to learn its fucking lesson.

I /shouldn't/ put this on Facebook, but it NEEDS to be shared...

I <3 college?

Is 20, not 02.

See that picture? Isn't it cute? Awwww it's adorable. But see that little girl? She's LITTLE. She's like 5. And hey, guess what, I'm not. 


Perhaps my father has forgotten this. Or just doesn't want to admit it. But we've had Dad-don't-ask-questions-you-don't-want-to-know-the-answer-to moments about my supersexy Halloween costume and my alcohol habits, and Dad-don't-you-even-go-there moments about boys and things from my childhood I don't want to talk about and other touchy subjects, so I think it's safe to say I've been trying to remind him that I am not a child.


So why, WHY does he insist on doing things we did when I was little? Watching movies I hated the first time around to see if I still hate them (I do). Renting bikes and biking along the boardwalk next to the ocean (which was fun, I must admit). Cleaning, Neosporin-ing, and Band-Aid-ing my wound when I hurt my shin. (Seriously? Neosporin? I haven't put Neosporin on a wound since people actually still put my bandaids on for me.) Giving me old t-shirts of his to sleep in (Uhm I actually have supersexy nighties, kthnx). 


Dad, this is cute, but I AM NOT A CHILD. What happened to last time I visited, when we went on a short cruise and danced at dinner at a nice Italian restaurant? That felt like we were two adults. This doesn't, and I'm sorry but that's not okay.

I Been Gone for a Minute/ Now I'm Back at the Jump-Off

So sorry I disappeared for almost a month. What can I say? Life got busy. But I missed the release I get from this, so I'ma try to be more faithful to you, dear blog and dearest readers.

October in a Nutshell (readysetgo!)

That guy I was gushing over all summer? He has a new girlfriend. She's a freshman. Possibly cuter than me. I found this out by running into them when they were on a date. (low point)

The next day, random (cute) black sophomore guy and I got pretty damn hot and heavy on the dance floor at Quad, and I WASN'T EVEN THAT DRUNK. (high point)

Omg, I absolutely love my Junior Paper topic, and so far the research is fan-fucking-tastic. I'm studying the effects of the institutional structure of large public universities and small private universities on students' transitions to adulthood. I designed an awesome survey and am comparing institutions on lots of variables and I'm pretty sure I've done more work than I need to by this point, and the best part is I'm enjoying it so much!!! Watching this transform from an idea I thought could be cool to a tangible item I created, and watching the item go out into the world and come back with data from real people that kind of fits the idea i originally had! Fuck all those oh-no-what-have-I-done feelings I was having immediately after declaring SOC last year, I fucking LOVE. MY. DEPARTMENT. Kind of related side note: I also fucking love my friends from Oakcrest. I hadn't talked to some of them in legitimately YEARS, but now that I need research help, they're all willing (and most of them excited) to help, and it makes me feel so loved! <3


(Oh and I think I have a thesis topic. But we'll discuss this later.)

I got a LAMP mentee this year! And I already know her and absolutely love her. She came over last week and we chatted and had fancy snacks. It was so cuteI. People think we're a great match, and we're determined to prove them right.

 I think I'm developing a new best guy friend. I mean, Quad's given me a whole circle of amazing new friends who I love and wouldn't trade for the world, but I think one specifically is taking over that spot in my life, which has been feeling decidedly empty for a little while. (Kind of sad side note: Somehow, I feel like seeing the guys that used to share the position of my best guy friend nearly every day now that they're in Quad with me is hurting us, somehow. I don't really understand it...maybe because I don't just go chill with them anymore because they're so far away? Maybe because I'm too...[insert whatever's wrong with the way I am with very close guy friends here] in public at Quad and it weirds them out? Maybe I'm just reading too much into this? Whatever's going on, I feel like K is taking M and A's spot, and the strangest part is I'm not sure I mind so much. I love all three of them with all of my heart.)


Midterms were rough but obviously survive-able. Enough said.


I think I said this already, but Princeton is beautiful in the fall. I want to spend part of this break (once I get back on campus) appreciating that.


PRINCETON HALLOWEEN WAS THE MOST FUCKING AMAZING NIGHT OF MY LIFE. I'm sorry ML friends, Pirate Party may have been surpassed. I got soooooo many compliments about my scandalous costume ("GOD IF I HAD YOUR BOOBS"- a friend). I had sooooooooo much to drink, but remember the entire night. I had a great time behind the bar, getting hit on by lots of frat guys from Rutgers and BEATING TWO AT CHUG IN YOUR FACE! A co-Quad-officer was dressed as a doctor and we were on tap together for a little while (didn't plan this); out of this came the quote, "NURSE THIS MAN NEEDS BEER, STAT!" There is at least one photograph that is too scandalous for facebook. Two random WHITE GUYS danced with me; that never happens. A friend of mine and I exchanged a verrrrrry tight hug complete with cheek kisses (just drunken fun. Not even thinking about reading anything into it.)  While all my little-pussy friends chased their shots with apple cider, I chased my shot with another shot. All in all it was an incredible night and so totally what I needed.


And nowwwwwww I'm in Florida visiting my dad for half of fall break! 


yayyyyyyy nutshells!

The Soprano Sax

I'm taking some time today to remember why this is my favorite instrument of all time.

New commtiment!!

I'm going to start going to the gym on Wednesdays and Fridays, because these are the days I don't have to get up for class and can thus go to the gym and THEN shower. My mom lost 9 pounds going on this nasty cabbage soup diet and walking on the treadmill in our basement, and I'm maaaaaaad jealous.

 

So later I was talking to my dad, and he wants to get out into the world more and meet more people and just...have a life outside of work. I want to go to the gym. We are going to keep each other in check about these things. Yay killing two things-I-don't-want-to-do-birds with one stone! (Making sure I go to the gym and talking to my father.)

Dear Bra Companies,

I don't mind you calling bras in my size "Curvy Fit" or "Full-Figure", because I have lots of curves and I am full-figured, and I embrace both of these things. EMBRACE being the keyword there. EMBRACE. Synonyms: love, cherish, accept, welcome, approve. This may be hard for you to understand, I guess, but I like my body. So I want to ask you to change the marketing strategy for the bras you sell in my size. Just because I'm a D cup does not mean I want my bra to MINIMIZE my boobs by up to 1.5 inches. It doesn't mean they're sagging and I need my bra to DEFY GRAVITY. If you must know, the girls are quite perky all on their own; all they're looking for is support that's comfortable enough to get me through the day. I must applaud you for accomplishing that, but still, you disappoint me >.<

Think about it,

Maya and the girls

"Without a sense of urgency, desire loses its value."

 This was a friend's facebook status. Well, a person-it-would-be-socially-unacceptable-to-not-be-facebook-friends-with-but-who-is-not-my-actual-friend-in-real life's facebook status. Anyway, I can't get over how it describes with incredible accuracy what happened between me and the guy that featured prominently in so many of my letters this summer. I guess people can be more rash, more inclined to give into their passions and desires, when the end (or in our case, I suppose an extended pause) lingers on the horizon. Kind of like absence making the heart grow fonder before the absence even occurs. And now that we're back in the same place, it's like, should we choose to take them, there are an infinite number of chances to make this work. So every time, we let the moment pass, thinking there will always be another moment. And for now at least, this is tentatively true. 

Fragile Families

I know this isn't true, and is thus entirely irrational, but sometimes when I'm listening to lectures, I feel like the speaker is talking about ME. For instance, we had a guest lecturer in my Sociology class on Tuesday, speaking about research she and a team of grad students had just done on Fragile Families--children born out of wedlock and the tenuous ties that bind their parents. She kept talking about these people, these children, these parents, like they were so far removed from our current situation, and the whole time I just wanted to scream YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT ME!
She said a lot of things I don't agree with about children supposedly like me, but if being a SOC major has taught me anything so far, it's that I'm not like anyone who falls into any of the same categories as me. Comparison is futile. So I fumed silently, then finally treated myself to a Starbucks coffee mug to make myself feel better.
But early this morning, as I was laying in bed trying to go back to sleep, I realized she was right about how the introduction of new partners into the family and the dissolution of those relationships is stressful for the child involved. I had been refuting this because the dissolution of my mother's marriage was perhaps one of the most joyous occasions of my life. But laying in my bed, I began to feel this forbidden ache: I was again missing the one person I'm really not allowed to miss.
Greg. My mom's ex-boyfriend. I recognize that he was not right for her, and that the best decision for her personally was to terminate this relationship. I understand that, and on some level I am proud of her for being able to make the decision to walk away...in the past, I have known her to fear solitude over second-best relationships. 
And yet. Greg is one of those people that makes me question whether there is someone somewhere with some great big plan in which everything happens for a reason, because even if the 6 years or so he and my mom spent together weren't right for either of them, in some respect they were perfect for me. ...Wow, I didn't mean for that to sound so damned selfish. It's like, I mean no disrespect to my actual father, and all the disrespect possible to my ex-stepfather, when I say this, but in many ways, Greg is the closest thing to a traditional father I have ever known. (Not that he's very traditional about anything.) I guess, the relationship he and I had...he made me want to be enough of a little girl that we could go to Daddy/Daughter dances and enough of an adult to sip wine and have intellectual conversations at the same time. I would never admit this to him, but I cared SO MUCH what he thought about everything. He kept it real. He listened to my poetry and didn't judge me for it, just listened. He was trying to win my mom's heart, but he managed to get a pretty good chunk of mine too, and goddammit, I don't give a fuck if it's somehow disloyal to my mom, sometimes I miss him so much it HURTS. If ever I believed in family, it was when he was the head of mine. He lies somewhere near the root of my belief in unconditional love, too. It feels so wrong to say this, but it's how I feel so here it goes: Losing him was like losing my dad all over again.
I want to be able to have dinner with him. I want him to know about my JP topic, and I'd be more comfortable talking to him if I started dating than either of my actual parents. It's not fair that my mom wanting him out of her life meant taking him out of mine too. It's just not fair.

But you know, I still firmly disagree with the guest lecturer about one thing, and my belief about this is unwavering. She said children of fragile families would be better off with no transitions, even if they were into better relationships. That's just plain untrue. Even knowing how much it would hurt to finally understand what a father-daughter relationship is supposed to be and then lose it, I'd do it all again for the sake of the memories. I'd do it all again for the pure joy I got from running into him at Walmart over the summer, or for the shared secret joy my sister and I got from texting him to wish him a Merry Christmas.


I really do want to meet him for dinner or (in a few months) drinks or something and catch up. Maybe that's stabbing my mom in the back, but hey, I never wanted to break up with him. Don't I get some choice in who stays in my life?

I was told yesterday

that I act like an only child, and everyone just assumes I'm an only child because I don't want children and I don't seem like the loving-older-sister type. 

I suppose I wouldn't really categorize myself as the loving-older-sister type either, but somehow coming from other people, this feels like an insult.

I love my brother and sister! I don't always like them, but I love them. I'm more of the protective pushy older sister type...but that's just tough love, right??

Self-Appreciation

One of my favorite natural hair blogs declared today to be a self-appreciation day, and as those are always good, I decided to follow suit.


I love the way bright warm colors look against my caramel skin. I love my collarbone and like to draw attention to it with necklaces and low cut shirts. I love that people stop me on the street to ask about my kinky curls and are shocked to hear how little maintenance they require. I love that I don't feel like I have to wear makeup every day. I tease myself about needing to go to the gym, but I LOVE my curves. And most of all, I love that I've gotten to the point in life where I can shout all of this from the rooftops (read: to a little corner of the internet) without feeling embarrassed or ashamed. Every day I look into the mirror and the person staring back seems more and more like ME.

What do you love about you?

Confession: As much as I hate to admit this, because it makes me feel like a slut, if he'd played along Saturday night, his first view of my room would have been from pressed against the wall or in my bed. But he didn't, and as such, as I was wandering drunkenly back to my room at 2 AM, I started mumbling to myself about wishing he was with me. 


...I don't know if it was just because I saw him and then got drunk and wanted someone, or if it is actually him I want.

Confession #next: the first time I saw him once we got back to campus, and he hugged me and I felt his hands on the small of my back again, I finally understood what people mean when they talk about their knees going weak.


...It's just, weak from a desire that is specific or generalizable? That is the question.

There are few things in this world I hate more

than automated customer service robots. I would like to gather a baseball-bat-armed legion to go forth and find the computers that give them such acoustically pleasant voices and smash them to pieces. Better yet, I'd like to go around the country (world?) under the cover of night and do it myself. You can't ARGUE with a robot. You tell a robot how frustrating it's being, and it just says, "Sorry, I didn't catch that. Your options are...". When that frustrates you even further, the robot begins suggesting that you hang up. When you ask to speak to customer fucking service, the robot tells you that the information it gave you is up to date, and customer service is not an option at this time. When you yell at the robot asking WHY THE HELL WON'T YOU LET ME SPEAK TO A HUMAN BEING?!?, the robot says, "If you're done, please hang up." 

Insolent fucking piece of machinery. I had to call you four times before I finally figured out how to get you to let me speak to an actual person.


GIVE PEOPLE THEIR JOBS BACK SO I CAN TALK TO THEM WHEN I'M HAVING PROBLEMS. I wouldn't yell so much if the voice on the other end of the phone could understand what I'm saying, rather than just recognize the words. 

I had a geode once...

^Sort of like this.

The person I was with told me not to buy it. His argument was something to the effect of there would probably be better things I could spend my money on. My counterargument was that I'd always wanted one.

...Damn it's crazy how hindsight is such a BITCH. Those three sentences really sum up his and my entire relationship...and happened within a matter of hours before the relationship ended.

I don't know exactly what happened to that geode. I may have gotten rid of/hid it somewhere in  one of the bouts of depression and anger I wrestled with for months after this all went down. Which really SUCKS, because despite all the metaphorical deeper-meaning-ness of that statement, I really have always wanted a geode.

I bring this up now because my residential college is sponsoring a trip to the Dodge Poetry Festival. 

I'm sure most of you don't automatically see the connection here. The Dodge Poetry Festival is where I bought the geode. It's where I almost had my first kiss. It's the first place I ever publicly belonged to someone else since the days when my father wanted to put me on a leash (don't even get me started...). It is without a doubt one of the most naturally beautiful places I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. 

It's also the place where my heart was broken [hopefully] harder than it will ever be broken again. It's the place where I realized that having a past doesn't necessitate a future, and that even someone I have trusted for as long as I can remember may not necessarily deserve said trust. 

It's a place I want to go back to and also a place I fear ever returning to.

The trip is free.

I should go. I know I should. I'm just going to need some time to turn that should into a will.

I mean, can returning really be that hard? Can it be as hard as turning him down when he came slinking back into my life freshman year was? Will I see the haystack we rolled in, the tree I climbed, the bench we sat on, and feel the urge to contact him? Will I kick myself for still having his number? 

Or will I just go and have a good time at a festival I love? Can life be that easy, just this once?

Bonus points if you get the literary reference.

Grrrrrr...

Being angry at someone for the first time is an interesting experience. I suppose it becomes more and more interesting depending on how long you've been close to the person before having to cross this bridge of anger. One of my closest friends on campus is really flaking out and making my life difficult right now (I'm sure he doesn't mean to be, but regardless), and it's putting me in a really bad mood. It took me a while to realize that this funk I'm in is anger...this is what it feels like to be angry at him.  

So they say real women have curves

...and as much as I hate the "real women" qualifier (what the hell are fake women, anyway?), I'm pretty sure I've got that part down pat. 

...and yet, a close friend recently informed me that perhaps the guys in my life don't see me as a girl. Not the way I'd like them to, you know? This has caused me to re-evaluate the time I spend with my boys. I've come to the decision that I play one of two roles that come quite naturally to me around them: either hanging out as just another one of the guys, or as a worried protector motherly type. I'm either in the middle of watching a football game or debating the ethics of strip clubs, or worrying about a new injury and whether they're getting enough sleep. I suppose neither of these things is inherently sexy. 
I told said friend that I don't see how me hanging out with a few guys I'm close to is any different than me hanging out with a few girls I'm close to, and she says that therein lies the issue. Should there be a difference? 
I don't see why. I'd rather be thought of as being ME than as just a girl.

Dear Parents Everywhere

Why do you even ask questions that start with "You don't mind me asking..."? You know you're wrong. You admitted it yourself. Just do us all a favor and accept your wrongness before the words come out of your mouth. Yes, we mind. It's about time somebody let you know.

Quack, Quack

I've been thinking a lot about baby ducks recently. More specifically, about how sometimes I feel kind of like a baby duck, and not just in that I'm cute and loveable and soft (LOL) and that some might call me high-yellow.
I've been thinking about imprinting. How when a duckling hatches, it latches on to the first living thing it sees and calls it mama. Supposedly humans don't do this. But I feel like I do, in a different way. The first place that feels nice, I call it home and don't want to let go. The first people I knew on this campus are still my closest friends, and losing one of them to Oxford for a semester hurts. I seize the smallest show of affection and in return, find small ways to scream love.
I think I care too much about everything, and I'm fairly sure it's just going to get me hurt.

My mom thinks I'm a good friend. For some reason, this makes me feel really proud. 

My mom isn't particularly a touchy-feely person like I am. She rarely says really nice things about me like this. I'm really glad she thinks so. I guess it means I'm doing something right, you know?

I believe many of us--too many of us--don't take enough time out of our lives to appreciate the simple things. I was reading an article for class yesterday, in which someone said he "abhors the dull routine of existence." I didn't realize how much that struck me, until today I was walking home from lunch and, for no real reason, I glanced up at the sun as it cut jagged little patches of light through the reddening trees. I was overcome with a realization of the true beauty of this place I nonchalantly call home, and instantaneously upset with myself for ever having forgotten it. So I beg you, the next time you're out and about taking a walk, no matter your destination, take a short moment to really look at your surroundings. Remember why where you are is where you have chosen to be, and why you have chosen it. Remember that we are products of our surroundings, and do your best to reflect the beauty that surrounds you.

Sometimes I still marvel at the fact that this is a building I have class in. It makes me feel rather classy overall...

I'll leave you with a song:

...Do you ever have dreams that are just fucking weird? Like, strange trippy sexy dreams? The kind that involve you, say, rubbing Vick's VapoRub all over the warm chiseled chest of a very close friend, and then lead you to practically drool when you run into him the next day? Do you ever wonder what the hell your subconscious is trying to do to your life?

...Yeah, right, me neither. >.<

An exerpt from "In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens" by Alice Walker

"Did you have a genius of a great-great-grandmother who died under some ignorant and depraved white overseer's lash? Or was she required to bake biscuits for a lazy backwater tramp, when she cried out in her soul to paint watercolors of sunsets, or the rain falling on the green and peaceful pasturelands? Or was her body broken and forced to bear children (who were more often than not sold away from her)--eight, ten, fifteen, twenty children--when her one joy was the thought of modeling heroic figures of rebellion, in stone or clay?

How was the creativity of the black woman kept alive, year after year and century after century, when for most of the years black people have been in America, it was a punishable crime for a black person to read or write? And the freedom to paint, to sculpt, to expand the mind with action did not exist. Consider, if you can bear to imagine it, what might have been the result if singing, too, had been forbidden by law. Listen to the voices of Bessie Smith, Billie Holiday, Nina Simone, Roberta Flack, and Aretha Franklin, among others, and imagine those voices muzzled for life. Then you may begin to comprehend the lives of our "crazy," "Sainted" mothers and grandmothers. The agony of the lives of women who might have been Poets, Novelists, Essayists, and Short-Story Writers (over a period of centuries), who died with their real gifts stifled within them."

...This is perhaps the best reason I have ever identified with as to why I must create. 

Stolen from Bones:

"When the butterfly emerges,

 does the caterpillar cease to exist?"

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...

Fact: I love Robert Frost. But that's not what this is about.

I have this friend, a very close friend, in fact, who loves to ask really deep and somewhat philosophical questions out of nowhere, and expects an instant answer. I usually just give her one of two looks: o.0 (read: wtf are you talking about?!) or -__- (read: ...really?) when she does this, and wanted to do the same this last time, but I actually had an instant answer to the question. It came to my head before I could register either of the two looks, and then I couldn't deny it. 

The question? Something along the lines of "Who do you want to see but don't really want to see at the same time?" 

...You probably know where this is going.

Well, I saw him today. It...wasn't a total awkward-fest, but it wasn't totally non-awkward either. It's like...just when I'd totally and completely gotten over what it feels like when he has me in his arms, you know? I had to invite him to dinner, because in the situation, it would have been rude not to, but part of me was slightly relieved when he said he already had plans...I'm not ready to start making a fool of myself again. 

It's time to make a decision about this once and for all. (Can I even do that without talking to him about it? Is that fair to all the involved parties?) I have a date on Friday with someone else! If he asks me about Friday, will I tell him that? Will I sugar-coat by just saying I'm headed up to Rutgers? I don't know if/how he'd be affected by either answer. Just because I'm going on a date (okay just because I'm going on my first date ever) doesn't mean that the door we nudged open in May is closed on my end. I just...dammit, after all this time, I still don't know if it's open on his.

TURN OFF, BRAIN. STOP READING TOO MUCH INTO THINGS.


...do I ever want to have to wonder what might have been? Does he?

Pretty Mama if you're single, single...

So part of me really likes living in a single. I can watch my TV shows out loud on my computer, and don't ever have anyone bugging me to put headphones in when I'm listening to music. It's a major goal of mine to be at least relatively clean this year--so I can invite people over!--but if I slip, there's no one to bug me about my desk being a mess, etc. IF I DON'T FEEL LIKE WEARING PANTS, I DON'T HAVE TO. This space feels definitely MINE, and I've never really had that before, and I think I absolutely love it.

I will admit, however, that it was kind of scary going to sleep last night. I don't know why, because I slept in the apartment by myself in Chicago a few times! But alas, I am unashamed to admit that part of me really wants to get a nightlight. 

A diva nightlight like this:

 

I think that one of the best things in the entire world...

is the discovery that a friendship runs deeper and is more valuable than you'd ever predicted, the realization that in a rather unlikely and unpredictable source, you have found someone who will truly be there for you in a time of need, who will listen and advise without pretense or protest, and for whom you would unconditionally be willing to give the same honor to. It serves as a reminder that the people in our lives are gifts, and occasionally the most extraordinary of gifts comes in the most ordinary of wrappings. It is in these moments, this time we take from our lives and dedicate solely to a true friend in true need, that we remember how to say plain, pure, powerful statements, such as "You are important to me," and feel the blessed weight of their joy returned to us as well.

Packing

There are few things in the world I hate more than packing. I mean, I really and truly abhor the entire process. And this doesn't ever change, no matter how much I want to get to wherever I'm going. I'm sitting here, legitimately counting the hours (68) til I'm back home (by which I obviously mean on campus; there are few such places where I feel like I truly belong), and yet standing between there and here is a shitload of packing to be done, and I...am camped out on the couch watching Bones online. I tried to pack this morning. I got started. I just...it's so boring and so tedious and takes so much time and I JUST DON'T LIKE IT. *whine*

Dreams

"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." --Shakespeare

"No more worries; rest your head and go to sleep. Maybe one day we'll wake up and this will all just be a dream." --Eminem

^Up yours to anyone who says rap isn't poetry.

But that's a side note. This post is about the movie Inception. I watched it online earlier today, and those two quotes popped into my head as soon as the movie was over, while I was struggling to come to terms with reality. I remember in 2004 when that Eminem song came out--for those who don't know, Mockingbird, one of his best, go inform yourself--sitting at the table in my high school having a conversation with my friends over french fries, about how mind-blowing a concept that was. What if the entire life we have, everything we know and everything it feels as though we have ever known, is but a dream that we will someday wake up from? What if one day we woke up and our bed wasn't our bed, our hands weren't our hands, our reflection featured a stranger blinking back at us? What if our parents weren't our parents, our friends weren't our friends, and we were no longer the ourselves? If everyone from Shakespeare to Eminem to Christopher Nolan can become fascinated by the same idea (the most resilient parasite, after all), is there a possibility that this world which feels so really is just a product of our abundant imaginations? I'm sure it's not, but chew on that one for a while, haha.

Side note: I can't see people's faces in my dream. It's not like people are mannequins or weird faceless blobs...Everything's just a little too blurry for me to make out the details. Faces, places, all of it. Like, I know where I am, and I know who is with me (even if I don't actually know that person(s)....I rather often dream of strangers who are entirely known to me in my dreams...the products of my subconscious, I suppose), but none of it is entirely clearly visible. Almost as if it's from a "real world" I can't quite remember? (If the third level was ten years, we could spend lifetimes in a fourth level...a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream...) 

For your entertainment...

Random train of thoughts!

Follow me, this one is fun.

So my music player is on shuffle, and "A Thousand Miles" by Vanessa Carlton just came on. (Don't judge me, 90s music is awesome.) So I was contemplating the line from the chorus, If I could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass us by? 

Falling into the sky was the part that was interesting to me for a moment.

It made me think of Falling Up, the book of poems by Shel Silverstein, whose books were among my favorites during childhood. (The Missing Piece is still a pretty accurate description of my life as a whole.) 

Thinking about Shel Silverstein made me remember this awesome thing that happened to me when I was visiting my dad in Florida last year. We were driving somewhere, probably just to Walmart or something, and I saw the best sign ever.

 

So for the longest time I've had this recurring random wonderment. It's often rather difficult to explain to people...so much so that, as of late, I'd rather stopped trying. 

It's like, when we're little kids, our preschool and kindergarten teachers point to some colored squares and say, "That's blue," "That's green," "That's red," etc. And we nod our little heads and say yes. And we go home and our parents do the same thing with our favorite ball and our jacket and the grass outside and the sky, and the colors of all these things are roughly the same as the colors on the squares our teachers showed us, so we nod our little heads and say yes. But how do you know that little Bobby sitting next to you in class sees the green square (and thus, the grass) as being the same color you see it as? What if little Bobby thinks what you both call "green" is actually the color you see as "red" and visa versa? What if your green is purple to him? HOW COULD WE EVER FIND OUT IF WE SEE THE SAME THINGS THE SAME WAY???

...One of the really and truly incredible things about this online dating thing is that it has matched me with other people who, in their I spend a lot of time thinking about box, list that exact question (in their own words, of course). ...I didn't even include it on my profile because I thought it was too weird. Mysterious forces are at work here, verrrrry mysterious forces.

Relient K - Be My Escape (Video)

Fits my mood right now. Idk who I'm begging, though. Possibly myself.

Facts

So as I've mentioned before, I've been using this dating site, OKCupid, recently. It has led me to realize something that I find very troubling about myself:


I have extreme difficulty answering the following questions:


What are some of my interests?


What do I like to do for fun?


...These are very basic and simple questions. I should immediately be able to come up with answers. I can come up with a few, but they're not very satisfying, even to me.


FACT: This is further proof that I don't do enough things for myself, because I want to and like to, not because they'll look good on my resume or will help a lot of people. 


Fact: This is a problem.


I want to I'm going to do more to fix this...I just don't know how to do that without disappointing a lot of people, myself included. I always thought I just liked being in charge of things, but maybe that's just all I'm used to. I need to get used to something new.

I always say I would NEVER have wanted to go to a big state school...

...but that's not exactly the whole truth. There are occasionally, times when I semi-seriously wonder what it would have been like. I'm going through one of those times right now. 

What is this time inspired by, you might ask? Well, I was sniffing around on Google, trying to come up with (read: steal) some ideas for what the black groups I plan events for on campus could do to welcome new students to campus. Firstly, I was surprised by the sheer number of results I got. I was so excited, look at all these links that [supposedly] contain ideas I can bring to my campus! :D :D :D *mental cartwheels*

...Then I started clicking on them, and was SORELY disappointed. And not in the usual google-search-didn't-give-me-what-I-want way, but in the so-and-so state's CENTER FOR BLACK CULTURAL AND STUDENT AFFAIRS hosts an annual BLACK STUDENT ORIENTATION, or so and so university's BLACK CULTURAL CENTER welcomes black students in this-or-that way, or other-small-private-liberal-arts-school's African American Student Affairs center, etc. etc. etc. when the director of our "Multicultural Center" just gives us empty promises and dry criticisms. I really can't imagine a possibility in which a large effort to make black students feel welcome and included on campus comes from the center itself, rather than our student organizations begging and pleading for its "support" while we scrape something together ourselves.

Sorry, moment of *angryrant*

Still on the search...

Patience is one of those virtues I REALLY need to learn. So is...

tolerance.

It's like, there are things I think are okay, and then there are things I don't think are okay whatsoever. There are varying degrees of these judgments, and I pass them more heavily or less heavily depending on how much I know and love the person being judged. (I sound like such a terrible person already.) I don't like to think this makes me intolerant, though. I like to use words like opinionated and steadfast...I just don't compromise on my beliefs well. I always thought standing up for one's beliefs was a good thing...
But this causes drama in my daily life sometimes. Because, okay, when talking about beliefs and theoretical happenings, my friend/acquaintance/potential-significant-other and I can disagree vehemently and loudly and staunchly, but realize this is all hypothetical and theoretical and go back to being friends/acquaintances/(potential) significant others and it's nbd. --That is, usually. Some of my friends don't seem to understand the way I was raised to have arguments and get offended/hurt. Conversely, I don't understand their "arguments" and get pretty ticked off when they speak quietly instead of showing their anger...bad things happen on both ends.-- BUT, when someone, particularly a very close friend (or I suppose a significant other), actually DOES something that falls under the "things-I-don't-think-are-okay-whatsoever" category, I just don't know what to do. How do you reconcile if-I-just-met-you-and-knew-this-about-you-I-probably-wouldn't-like-you with I've loved you all my life and don't understand who I'd be without you? I mean, I've-loved-you-all-my-life-and-don't-understand-who-I'd-be-without-you TOTALLY and OBVIOUSLY wins out, but how do I stop the harsh judgment? How do I not be...utterly disappointed? How do I stop worrying whether you're slowly becoming someone I love but don't really like? (Is that even possible? Does that mean I have some huge underlying problem, if I can love people without liking them? We're not there yet, but I see possibilities and they frighten me.)
 

I shaketh my fist at you, dangblasted Universe

All I want is just a tiny little adventure. Just to go see something new and exciting with someone I love--hell, at this point I'd even settle for doing something new and exciting with someone I barely know. 

I just need a break from the monotony. Something to make this stint at home worthwhile (not that I had any feasible alternatives to it).

Dear Universe,

Is that too much to ask?

-Maya 

PS: 

xkcd

So I've recently become slightly obsessed with the web comic xkcd. XKCD doesn't stand for anything, in case you were wondering, and proclaims to be a comic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language--3 of those are among my favorite things in the world! (And even math makes me remember high school fondly and wonder whatever happened to the person I might have been had I not gone to California and given up on calculus...she's probably wandering around in some parallel universe, furiously scribbling equations on some clear plastic board...) I had dabbled in it in the past, curiously clicking friend-provided links and occasionally venturing to the site on my own, but just learned that there is a secret message that appears if you hover over the comic, which sometimes provides further insight into the more complicated comics, and sometimes contains a second punch-line! It entertains me so, and I'm almost considering purchasing a signed print of one of my favorites to hang in my room. (Sn: I'm trying to think of really cool dorm decorations to put in my single, if you have any great ideas let me know. My room is mostly blues, greens, tans, and browns...I'm into cool colors.)
Anyway, it gives me so much pleasure during these days of summer boredom that I thought I'd let you all check it out too. It's really quite adorable, even if you don't get the math (which I almost never do.) 

My absolute favorite ever. (so far)

I like making random confessions on here...

Confession: Vintage arcade games like Pong, Tetris, and Centipede still absolutely fascinate me.

30 Day Letter Challenge--Day Thirty: To Your Reflection in the Mirror

Dear That Girl I See Staring Straight Back at Me,

Yup I stole that from Mulan. So sexist, but one of my favorite Disney movies. (Sn: I love almost all Disney movies. Except the Toy Story series...not really the biggest fan. Didn't even see TS3.) 
Hmm, my reflection in the mirror. I don't see you as often as I used to, especially since I've come home. I guess I only really see you when I'm trying to make [so-called] improvements to you, like doing my makeup or plucking my eyebrows, and these things seem incredibly less important when I'm back in the house I grew up in, with the people who've known me since before I knew what mascara was. Or before I leave the house if I'm going somewhere I'll see people; but the only place I've seriously been with people since I've been home is the beach, which is rather obviously dress-down, haha. 
It's kind of ironic, because in the past I've had people mock me for how much time I could spend looking at you. Does this mean we've grown apart, or closer together? Have I just stopped caring about you? Are you me, or just a manifestation of who I try to appear to be? If I stop looking at you, am I trying to just be? 
I'm sure our relationship will pick back up once the school year starts. Hmm...that kind of pokes holes in my claim that I try to look good for myself, huh? I guess it really is for all of them. Meh, *hates that she cares so much what other people think of you*. Damn superficiality. 


-Me


PS -- I don't tell you this enough, but I love you, you sexay thang ;)

I am now in a world where I have to hide my heart, and what I believe in. But somehow, I will show the world what's inside my heart, and be loved for who I am.

30 Day Letter Challenge--Day Twenty-Nine: To Someone you wish you could tell everything to, but are too afraid to

Dear Person I'm Sick of Writing to,

I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M WRITING TO YOU AGAIN. UGH. 

I wish I could have told you how I felt as I was feeling it. When I had the chance, I was too scared. I became emboldened by your absence, but the whole other side of the world thing made telling you not really a possibility. Now I'm pretty sure whatever we started has ended without really getting off the ground, and this upsets me slightly. I had a lot of chances I could have taken, I should have taken, and while part of me wants to kick myself repeatedly, part of me says hey...so did you.

Time to just say oh well? 

Maya

 

30 Day Letter Challenge--Day Twenty-Eight: To Someone that Changed Your Life

Dear everyone I have ever interacted with,

I firmly believe in the philosophy of tabula rasa, that we are all born as blank slates, to be written on by those we meet, those we know, those we love and those we hate...even by those to whom we never gave a second thought. Every thought we think is influenced by those we have come into contact with, personally or academically, real or imagined; it's really hard to have an originally original thought in this day and age.

Anyway, I like to say funny phrases like color-me-happy and I'm living in a heavily outlined world. I like to think that all of you take turns coloring my world in.

Thanks for making me who I am. I owe you all my very life as I know it. Blessed be.

-Maya

Go ahead, grab a pen. There's space left there somewhere, promise.

Update to Letter 23

Just so you know,

I've gotten pretty sick of this. At this point, I'd rather have a new first kiss with someone else than a second kiss (second fit of kissing?) with you.

Do something to make this up to me, or prepare to feel...nothing from me. Nothing from me at all. A shell of a casual friendship, I suppose, because we have too many mutual friends for me to intentionally make things awkward.

Maya