Tags: freedom of speech, talking
This post is dedicated to my dear friend and fellow blogger, Ms. Dezolutions, who is usually at the brunt of my unfiltered chatter.
In life, there are those who talk and those who use very few words. There are also those who it just takes a little bit to get out of their shell, and sometimes it just takes some maturity to feel confident speaking one’s mind.
I never had that problem. For as long as I can remember I have spoke my mind, without much hesitation. I am blunt but often eloquent. Basically if you want to really hear the truth, just call me up. What comes with this capability is the ability to always have a come back, to be able to bounce off a perfect stranger at the drop of a hat. This can really help make the morning commute, and other times spent in the company of strangers, much more pleasant.
And when you are a talker, people listen. They know you will always have something to say and they count on you to get the conversation started if it gets awkwardly quiet. What can I say? I like conversation. And what makes a good conversationalist is someone who also listens. I don’t talk just to hear the sound of my own voice. I talk to learn from others and to share my opinions and knowledge with others.
Of course, I have suffered the occasional foot in mouth syndrome. I have regretted many things I have said that, perhaps, went unnoticed, and perhaps didn’t. I’ve sounded stupid, in retrospect, and I’ve definitely offended a few people. Surprisingly, my mouth never got me into a fist fight. I learned a long time ago that a better verbal fighter is one who fights fairly and does not use curse words or call names, unless completely necessary (or if I’m insanely angry).
And I have learned from my mistakes. We live in a world with a lot of over-sensitive people and you never know if you are in the presence of one, or if you are just about to hit on a touchy topic. While I am not one of these people, I have become more reserved when necessary and increasingly more thoughtful in how I word things.
But I haven’t lost my edge. Not at all. Not in the least bit. I’m still as ballsy as I was when I walked around college in Massachusetts with my I LOVE NY back pack. I’m still as sassy as I was cheering for the Yankees in a crowd of Red Socks fans. And I still play the devil’s advocate when the heated topic of politics comes to the table.
I live my life unfiltered. I don’t sugarcoat. I can be harsh. I can be funny. I can be offensive. But above all, I am honest. If you want someone to lie to you, you are in the wrong place.
Tags: domestic, facebook, friends, lgbt, marriage, relationships, renting, roommates
I was out to dinner recently with a couple girlfriends, catching up. We talked like girls do about our boyfriends — each of us at different but overlapping points in our relationships. One of the girls was saying how her and her boyfriend have been fighting a lot lately. We started to comfort her, saying it’s probably just a phase. Couples fight. We’ve all been there. To which she of course asks the question, “you guys still fight over stupid stuff? Like what?”
The other girl and I start ranting about how our boyfriends are messy, or clean, except for that one thing they do that doesn’t make any sense. That they go to bed too late or wake up too early, and in both instances, we wake up with them. We argue about who is going to take out the garbage, maybe we’ll argue about the bills or who is going to walk the dog.
And when we took a second to breathe we realized that nothing we argued about had anything to do with our relationships. The difference between our relationships and our friend’s was that we lived with our boyfriends. It’s a blessing, my friend said, because it makes things easier, which I agreed with, but it doesn’t make everything easier.
Because we are no longer just “in a relationship.” We have unknowingly entered into a domestic partnership.
So when I saw in the news that Facebook was adding two new options to their relationship status, I was intrigued. I know that this decision was made to accommodate our LGBTQ friends, but doesn’t this status pertain to me too? Yes, I am straight, but I am living with my partner, just the same as a same-sex couple would.
But the problem with the phrase “domestic partnership” is that it takes away from the intimacy of the relationship. A domestic partnership to me sounds more like two people getting together for convenience, like Hillary and Bill Clinton. You can’t tell me there’s love in that relationship. And our LGBTQ friends have just as much love in their relationships. But right now they don’t have the same rights to declare their love as straight people do, so we gotta do what we can to help them describe their relationships while our country catches up to our social reality.
So what does this all mean for straight people? It means we shouldn’t forget that we have the right to express our love the way we want to. That we shouldn’t forsake our relationships once they reach the level of domestic partnership. That we should continue to love and not mistake domestic disagreements for relationship problems.
And hopefully, in the lifetime of a 20 something, we will see that we don’t really need all of these classifications related to sexual orientation. That love is love — not some box you check off on a form.
Tags: life, love
It’s not about being selfish. It’s not about being spoiled. It’s about wanting to live the best life one can possibly live. It’s the feeling you get when you reflect on your past and think, “Did I do enough?” “Did I have enough fun?” “Did I live enough?”
The stories you tell when you are older are made when you are young, so it’s only fair to want to make the most out of your youth, because you can’t turn back. Of course, you always could have done more. You could have had more crazy nights when you broke all the rules. You could have had more romantic moments. You could have taken more risks. You could have had more laughs. But, from what you do remember, was it enough?
I for one don’t want to stop making those kinds of memories. I have some great ones already, but I’m not passed the point of not being able to make more. I don’t really know when you reach that point. I just sort of imagine that it exists, but maybe it doesn’t have to. But when I think back to the memories I have made I do wonder if I did enough. I call this the art of always wanting more. It’s not about regret. It’s about having a thirst for life. I want to spend the rest of my life learning and experiencing all that I can. I want to travel, try new food, see live concerts, meet new people, I want it all!
I want to be tired when I am old, not because I am bored. I want to be tired from having lived so damn much. We may never know the meaning of life, but I plan not to waste away while I try to find out.
I will take pictures. I will make home movies. I will say what I want, even if I regret it later. I won’t hold back out of fear. I will enjoy some down time watching tv. I will work hard. I will sleep. I will love. I will cry. I will tell my children and their children all about the endless possibilities life has to offer, even when it seems like there is nowhere to go. We all get stuck sometimes, but life does eventually go on, and even these memories have a place in the rocking chair of old age.
And I will always want more, because there’s no such thing as too much living.