My best friend is coming!
My oldest and dearest best friend is coming to visit me tomorrow. I can't wait to see her.
We've been best friends since the dawn of time. This friendship has been wrought with separations, life alterations, drama, insidious family injuries, family drama, and so forth. This girl has been there for me every step of the way.
We have picures of us together in Kindergarten, dancing in some ridiculous school play. We were separated then, when I switched out of Catholic School and she moved to B.C. She came back in fourth grade, and we were fast friends. We were separated again in fifth grade, and weren't together again until four years later, in ninth grade. By that time we had different interests (Me: boys; her: livin' it up). We were separated again then, to be reunited after my first nervous breakdown in twelfth grade.
Since then we have been through a multitude of failed marriages, college applications and acceptances, university applications, engagements, wedding plans, family members reproducing, on stage performances, the loss of pets, friends, family, boys, and hair pieces, and about everything else that happens to a girl between being seventeen and now.
She was also there the day that my car caught on fire while I was driving it down the road. She watched as I threw a temper tantrum on the side of the road, kicking the damn thing and swearing.
She was there for my failed red veal operation. She was there to toss around feed bags full of corn, observe while I shoveled the shit, and point and laugh while my dad and I wrastled the calves around in an attempt to weigh them. She was my business partner in a scheme to raise chickens and sell eggs. Unfortunately, that went under when an owl came and ate our chickens.
When we were in fourth grade,Terri was always doing totally cool things like telling the teacher to fuck off and getting sent to the office. She was always the more outspoken one of us. I was always more shy and quiet, observing my environment. When people made fun of me at school, I'd quietly walk away. Not Terri. She would stand up and call the stupid fucker to his face, and that made her my hero, because I never had the balls to stand up to someone who hurt me. It's a flaw I deal with to this day, and to this day I wish I had more of the "fuck off" that Terri has.
She tells it like it is, no matter what. She doesn't hesitate to sing "Take your meds, Crazy Girl!" When I sleep over at her house. Because she views my insanity as something that is frickin' hilarious, and as a simple fact of life. You may as well accept that you're nuts. This is her motto. I can tell her about the scary thoughts and fears that come with being OCD. I can tell her about the urges that overcome me, that I can only stop with insane behavior. I can tell her the things that are on my mind that scare me. And she's always there to say something that makes me laugh and cry and say "Good God, you're right." (Her advice usually falls into the category of:"Good Grief. You're fucking nuts. Quit it, will you?" Now, by all professional standards, this is not the way to deal with a crazy person at all. But with Terri, it works.)
When we were little, I used to think that her mom was the best thing since sliced bread. She would let us do totally cool things like stay up until one in the morning watching horror movies. I blame Terri's mom for my uncontrollable fear of the dark that lasted well beyond the age of sixteen for me. She would also do such uncanny things as swear in front of us, and allow us to use a calculator for our math homework. The day she allowed that was the day that I accepted her as an honorary SuperCoolMom into my heart. Calculators and I are buds, and she allowed that friendship to flourish.
I've always had a secret crush on her older brother as well. Every girl has to have a friend whose older brother she can have a crush on. It's totally safe that way. We can never date, but every time I see him I can think "Dude, he's yummy." And she can think "Dude, if you think that one more time, I'm going to murder you in your sleep."
Terri and I are pretty different people. At the same time, we're identical. It's amazing to me when I see this strong, powerful woman admit some inane fear to me. I always view her as the one without flaws, the one who is there to support me. When she needs something from me, I feel so empty, so useless, because I'm sure that no matter what I do, it will never amount to the good she has done for me in my life.
So, my best bud is coming tomorrow. I can't wait. I want to see her, to laugh with her, to show her my house and my cat and introduce her to my roommate. I need her help in putting up some shelves and she is the type who doesn't get defeated by such tasks as sticking a piece of wood to a wall. This is why we get along so well. While I'm crying in my Circa 1901 bed about the fac that I have nowhere to hang my DU camo housecoat, she's hauling out the hardware and rolling her eyes.
She's my best friend. And I can't wait to see her.
Toonses
We've been best friends since the dawn of time. This friendship has been wrought with separations, life alterations, drama, insidious family injuries, family drama, and so forth. This girl has been there for me every step of the way.
We have picures of us together in Kindergarten, dancing in some ridiculous school play. We were separated then, when I switched out of Catholic School and she moved to B.C. She came back in fourth grade, and we were fast friends. We were separated again in fifth grade, and weren't together again until four years later, in ninth grade. By that time we had different interests (Me: boys; her: livin' it up). We were separated again then, to be reunited after my first nervous breakdown in twelfth grade.
Since then we have been through a multitude of failed marriages, college applications and acceptances, university applications, engagements, wedding plans, family members reproducing, on stage performances, the loss of pets, friends, family, boys, and hair pieces, and about everything else that happens to a girl between being seventeen and now.
She was also there the day that my car caught on fire while I was driving it down the road. She watched as I threw a temper tantrum on the side of the road, kicking the damn thing and swearing.
She was there for my failed red veal operation. She was there to toss around feed bags full of corn, observe while I shoveled the shit, and point and laugh while my dad and I wrastled the calves around in an attempt to weigh them. She was my business partner in a scheme to raise chickens and sell eggs. Unfortunately, that went under when an owl came and ate our chickens.
When we were in fourth grade,Terri was always doing totally cool things like telling the teacher to fuck off and getting sent to the office. She was always the more outspoken one of us. I was always more shy and quiet, observing my environment. When people made fun of me at school, I'd quietly walk away. Not Terri. She would stand up and call the stupid fucker to his face, and that made her my hero, because I never had the balls to stand up to someone who hurt me. It's a flaw I deal with to this day, and to this day I wish I had more of the "fuck off" that Terri has.
She tells it like it is, no matter what. She doesn't hesitate to sing "Take your meds, Crazy Girl!" When I sleep over at her house. Because she views my insanity as something that is frickin' hilarious, and as a simple fact of life. You may as well accept that you're nuts. This is her motto. I can tell her about the scary thoughts and fears that come with being OCD. I can tell her about the urges that overcome me, that I can only stop with insane behavior. I can tell her the things that are on my mind that scare me. And she's always there to say something that makes me laugh and cry and say "Good God, you're right." (Her advice usually falls into the category of:"Good Grief. You're fucking nuts. Quit it, will you?" Now, by all professional standards, this is not the way to deal with a crazy person at all. But with Terri, it works.)
When we were little, I used to think that her mom was the best thing since sliced bread. She would let us do totally cool things like stay up until one in the morning watching horror movies. I blame Terri's mom for my uncontrollable fear of the dark that lasted well beyond the age of sixteen for me. She would also do such uncanny things as swear in front of us, and allow us to use a calculator for our math homework. The day she allowed that was the day that I accepted her as an honorary SuperCoolMom into my heart. Calculators and I are buds, and she allowed that friendship to flourish.
I've always had a secret crush on her older brother as well. Every girl has to have a friend whose older brother she can have a crush on. It's totally safe that way. We can never date, but every time I see him I can think "Dude, he's yummy." And she can think "Dude, if you think that one more time, I'm going to murder you in your sleep."
Terri and I are pretty different people. At the same time, we're identical. It's amazing to me when I see this strong, powerful woman admit some inane fear to me. I always view her as the one without flaws, the one who is there to support me. When she needs something from me, I feel so empty, so useless, because I'm sure that no matter what I do, it will never amount to the good she has done for me in my life.
So, my best bud is coming tomorrow. I can't wait. I want to see her, to laugh with her, to show her my house and my cat and introduce her to my roommate. I need her help in putting up some shelves and she is the type who doesn't get defeated by such tasks as sticking a piece of wood to a wall. This is why we get along so well. While I'm crying in my Circa 1901 bed about the fac that I have nowhere to hang my DU camo housecoat, she's hauling out the hardware and rolling her eyes.
She's my best friend. And I can't wait to see her.
Toonses
posted by Amanda at 23:26
1 Comments:
What a lovely entry (lol I say that a lot!). She is lucky to have you as a friend!
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