Trust.

Trust (along with communication and overall compatibility) is one of the key ingredients in any lasting relationship (either platonic or romantic). Honestly, I'll be the first to raise my hand and say that I'm not one to jump on the trust train when I meet people, and that a lot of people don't see me as a proper candidate for someone they want to put their trust in at the end of the day. I have major trust issues because of life experiences, and I have broken the trust of others by doing and saying really stupid things over the years. I'm not perfect, but I'm sure that everyone was already aware of that fickle slice of information. 

In the hustle and bustle of trying to woo someone over or even maintain something that's already been constructed, it is fairly easy to forget to show that you trust someone AND that you're worthy of being trusted. Like cooking bacon, if you leave it alone for too long, something is going to end up burnt, and, let's face it, burnt isn't tasty and it isn't something you'd want to invest your time in. That crap is going straight for the trashcan.

Something happened recently (not something bad, for all those who will read this and assume that some kind of God-awful thing happened) that reminded me that trust is not a simple thing, and it comes in all types of forms. Growing up, trust meant keeping secrets. (Don't tell Bobby that Judy has a crush on her,  Don't tell Lisa she's getting an American Girl sleeping bag for her birthday, etc). Trust was created through verbal agreements like promises and pinky swears. It wasn't until recently that I realized trust can be shown in ways I wasn't even aware of during my adolescence. I've realized I trust others more than I thought.

If I sing in the car (even when I know I don't sound good) when I'm with you, I trust you. If I let myself eat half a pizza while sitting across from you, I trust you not to judge me for being such a fatass. If I allow myself to fall asleep right next to you, I trust you. If I let you touch me at all, I trust you. If I let you see me cry, I trust you. If I let you read my writing, I trust you. If I tell you things you know no one else knows, I trust you. If, despite the struggle I'll put out, I watch something scary with you, you better bet your booty that I trust you.  If I let you in, I trust you.

The catch, though, is that that trust can be gone in a blink of an eye. 

At the end of the journey, I want to be able to look at the people I've brought along with me and know that I'm not going to be betrayed or hurt by any of them. Sadly, I've lost a lot of cool cats along the way so far because of trust issues. As I get older and a little bit wiser, though, I've learned that anyone who didn't cut it has had something in common with the others who also didn't cut it.

I want to be surrounded by those I love and those who send love in return. Is that too much to ask for?

My Internet Friends and Me

While a majority of grown-ups and people who were raised on something other than the great and power World Wide Web are hesitant to venture out into the not-so-safe areas of the cyber universe, I can say that I have been there and done that, and you what I figured out? Every adult who has ever told me that everyone on the Internet is a pedophile was lying to me. They all told me about the dangers of talking to strangers on the Internet, and I nodded in agreement, but my impressions of the lurkers of the Web quickly changed when I finally swam out and ... touched the butt.

When I was about 13 or 14, I got really into web design and web coding (because what 13 year-old girl doesn't love twiddling her fingers in Paint Shop Pro and CSS coding?). I fell in love with my hobby, and started looking for places to showcase my skills and knowledge. I joined staff teams for a few websites (run by young people) that specialized in graphics for, and don't you dare judge 13 year-old me, Neopets (yeah, like guild layouts and user-lookup layouts. I told you not to judge me). This gave me tons of practice to learn new coding and find new brushes and styles on Paint Shop Pro 9 (because I couldn't, and still can't, afford Photoshop at the time). Eventually, towards the end of 8th grade, I talked my dad into letting me buy my own domain and get paid hosting so that I could have my own website to offer graphics on. I called it InsaneTruth.net because I was lame and weird but thought I was insanely cool.

One of the last pieces of graphic design I did during my prime
(click for bigger view)

Anyway, around that same time, I had an affiliate (basically link 4 link, now) on my site and she had a message board (or mb if you want to be hip) called Splash MB on her domain. I joined it because why not? It was there that I ended up meeting my genuine best friends during high school. Everyone on there was between the ages of 12 and 18 and primarily female (with the exceptions of some...
questionable characters from the UK).

We all grew together and had inside jokes and leaned on each other during hard times and, yes, there was drama. I learned how to write fan fiction and about British television and who Gaspard Ulliel was. We fangirled over Twilight together... and then later hated every single aspect of it. Oh, and there was a fictional dude named Pedro, but that's a story for a night when I'm really drunk and full of pizza.

Eventually, the message board died, but I continued to talk to a couple of girls every single day on a website called Plurk (it's like twitter, but lame). We skyped, added each other on FaceBook, discovered Tumblr, and continued to grow as young women together. During late night skype sessions that were filled with gossip, innuendoes, and laughs, we put ourselves on the line and secured our most private secrets with each other. My life became full of sexy jokes about geometric angles, secret chatter about the French exchange douche, and Ringo Starr's dramatic plead for NO MORE FANMAIL. PEACE AND LOVE! We watched TV shows together and freaked out over bands (even ones each individual didn't care for... we just supported each other's interests no matter what). We had it made. We had a time...

Always and forever

Honestly, these girls probably know more about my four years of high school than I remember. They know every crush, every geometry class scandal, every single time I was blocked on FaceBook, every Jonas Brothers concert I ever attended, and even about the first time I fell in love. For someone who doesn't easily trust or open up about anything, looking back, I gave a lot of myself to those women.

We don't talk like we used to anymore. Some of us went off to college and started new lives that didn't allow us to spend every waking minute online, and others just matured out of the awkwardness of being in middle school and early high school. We're still FaceBook friends who wish each other the best on our respected birthdays, we follow each other's Tumblrs, and every once in a full moon, we catch up on each other's lives as if we never stopped talking.

You can say that online friendships don't count, but I'd like you to think about what makes a friendship. Is it seeing someone in person? Is it being in the same city? Being able to hug the other? No. Its none of those things. Friendships are made on trust and laughs and common interests. Distance means nothing. And that's what I had with these beautiful women.

So, thank you, Ale, Jellaw, and Roni. You guys will forever be in my heart. <3 

Release.

[The following is an excerpt from April 1, 2013]

It comes once the sun has risen and the beeping alarm blares once again in my ear. A moment of panic. A moment of mere heartache that thumps and pounds and thrashes inside of my chest at the speed of life. A gust of breath fills my lungs, and I remember why I didn't sleep well and why the gastric acids in my stomach are churning once again. Like every morning since the endless night.

I check my phone. The light blinds me briefly. My eyes adjust. Nothing. 


Am I a skeleton or girl? I cross my toes for luck. Get out of bed.

Please...

I brush my teeth, wash my face in the dark, put on a fresh pair of clothes that don't match or fit correctly because it doesn't matter either way. Like clockwork, I prepare for a day I must face exhausted and dazed and stressed beyond oblivion.  Guzzle 4 glasses full. Put on socks.

Did you put on socks this morning?

Check my email. Spam. Spam. Spam. Worthless school announcements. Spam. Facebook notifications. Spam. Delete my emails. All of them.

Should I eat? Am I hungry? Do I need this? I grab a cereal bar and call it a day with a side of multivitamins. Swig and swallow. Wrong pipe. Ouch. 

Did you remember to eat? 

40 days and 40 nights. A sigh of relief. A sigh of desperation calling for one more night, one more touch, one more heartbeat lullaby singing you softly to sleep. Hush. Hush. Don't wake. Don't stir. Hold me closer, tiny dancer....

The agenda is simple. Class. Eat. Class. Eat. Workout. Shower. Sit in wonder, procrastinating away until the due dates zoom in on the points of panic attacks and sleepless nights and falling eyelashes and bags of Sour Patch Kids on my tongue. And I wonder why I'm no fun. 15 minutes to kill.

Did you have a good yesterday? I wanna know. 

My mind blanks. I wonder about why it happened and why me and why you and why us and why the sun still shines even when you're not smiling. Can't stop thinking. I could have stopped this. I could have cried wolf. I could have saved you. Shame on me. Tsk tsk tsk.

Please...

Log-in. Tightened shoelace lungs. Dust bowl tongue. Goosebumps like rockets.

5 hours. 

Release. 

Angela & The Ferocious Bruce

For the last two years, I've pretty much had the most amazing partner-in-crime aka devil's advocate aka very best friend aka Bruce. Needless to say, I have no freaking idea where I'd be without this crazy fothamucka (what? you think I'd actually use that kind of vulgar language on my blog? what kind of girl do you think I am?) in my life. While, like everyone I know, he can make me think he's a total pain in my shrinking ass, there have just been too many awesome adventures and illegal questionable moments over time for me to get rid of him. Plus, he knows way too much. Gotta play it safe, right? 

Look at that posture! What a pro!

One of my favorite Bruce moments (like might possibly be number one, seriously) happened in the summer of 2011. We were hanging out, and he suddenly, for reasons I can't explain (so please don't ask me to!), had this ridiculous need to make pancakes. Holy shit. So, he goes to make these pancakes, and he's putting all of his mighty concentration into making these pancakes. And there I am laughing my pants off at him while he's trying to make the most perfect pancakes this world has ever seen. So, he's slaving away over his yummy meal, when he goes to flip the first pancake. I don't know what was going on his head when he decided to flip said pancake, but I don't think the pancake was prepared to be flipped how it was. It just seemed to fall apart into a big crumbled mess.

So, then he tries again with a second pancake, but, once again, his efforts failed. The second pancake turned out just as screwed up as the first. But, never fear, Bruce took his cooking like the man he is. He devoured that plate of orgasm-worthy pancakes like a real champ. And didn't share or offer any to me. 

Then, of course, there was the time when he forced me to watch a very terrifying movie called Insidious (which I do not recommend to anyone with eyes). Yes, for the record, I was forced against my own will to watch this very scary movie. I protested it the whole time. I probably sounded like a real wimp with all my begging and pleading for him to let us watch something happier... like pretty much anything but this one movie. I'm pretty sure there were actually times when he had me held down with his hands holding my head in the direction of the TV, but please don't quote me there. The entire time, I was on the line of peeing myself and actually dying from fright. And then the end (which I won't spoil for you because that'd be just cruel) came and BAM! I probably peed myself a little. Not even going to lie about that. And he made fun of me because I couldn't take the movie like a pro. Whatever. That movie was no tiptoe through the blasted tulips. I will never watch that movie ever again (ya know, in case you thought I enjoyed it or anything). But at least we added a super cool song to the soundtrack of our friendship, right? (aka Tiptoe Through the Tulips by Tiny Tim)

Yes, I did kick his ass. You can just tell from my face. 

We've been through so many good and bad times together, and I can't imagine having any of our experiences with anyone else. Our friendship isn't just the deformed pancakes or me being forced to participate in things against my own will. It's so much more than that. It's coming home passed my curfew smelling like cigarette smoke. It's walks to QuikTrip to get the donuts they just put out way too late at night. It's ditching Julia to go buy red shoes. It's getting way too drunk and then being hungover for a week. It's watching tortoises go crazy on each other at the zoo for a highly inappropriate amount of time.  It's the exchange of Stephen King novels. It's staying up until 6 am for the other just because that's what friends do. It's so much that I can't possibly fit it all into this one post. 

I think anyone who has a best friend understands that you can't put multiple years of friendship into words. Especially when, at one point or another, neither of you were truly in your right minds to make any smart decisions, let alone remember what you said or did (even if that means the other won't believe that they goosed you on St. Patty's Day while they were under the influence).

I'm just so happy that I get to have you as a part of my life, Bruce. I know that the last couple of months have been brutal (that actually might be downgrading it, so I apologize) for you, but I'm not planning to jump ship anytime soon (or ever, really). You're an amazing person and you care so much about the people in your life, and I couldn't have asked for a better best friend than you. 




So, happy 23rd birthday, Barnacle Puff. Let this year be a year full of laughs and adventure and chances to be the best you can be. You deserve that more than anyone. Love you, sweet pea.

Friendship Lesson Learned: No, that monkey doesn't have two asses, Angela. That's a female.