regardless, give it to him anyway.
p.s. i ell ooh vee e u. ex oh
(you know who you are.)
my 2 dads: a tribute to the best and the bonus.
i’m a very lucky girl. in the dad department, i scored BIG!
my mom and i have certainly had our issues (more on that later. maybe.), but she picked me out the 2 best dads on the planet. i seriously don’t think she could’ve done better for me (and my brother. though, he’s even luckier than i am cuz he gets both dads AND me as a sissy!)
my dad is the best. he’s generous, loving, and would do anything for me. he’s taught me about unconditional love, math (against my will), and continues to remind me of my brilliance daily. he’s always there when i need him and has done everything in his ability to make my life easier. plus, my love of books is due to him (and if you know me AT ALL, you know how i love love love the books). he always encouraged me to read and was always willing to buy me any book i ever wanted (shel silverstein, i love you! but not more than my dads). if my heart could take a human form, it’d likely look identical to him. my friends are constantly begging for him to adopt them. sorry folks, he’s all mine!
my bonus dad is the greatest. he’s patient, kind, calm, compassionate, and somehow managed to stick around through my bratty adolescence. he is the perfect compliment to my nutty mom. it doesn’t even feel right to call him a step-dad because he’s so much more than that, hence why i refer to him as bonus dad. i can barely remember a time when he wasn’t part of our lives. he was there when i was learning to drive (i remember him making me drive the car in reverse up a dirt road hill because he said most accidents happened while in reverse), he’s the one that taught me how to change my oil (i don’t remember how to do this, but i tell people that i do, for street cred), he didn’t say a single negative thing when i was going through my i love jim morrison phase and wrote ‘jim morrison is god’ (blasphemous, i KNOW! shoot me, i was young) in his birthday card instead of something heartfelt (sorry about that. my mom yelled at me about it and i STILL feel badly), and he’s always been a great sounding board (he gives damn good advice too, without sounding judge-y. he’s pretty remarkable). i hope to be half the parent he didn’t have to be.
i know i don’t thank them enough for the roles they’ve had in making me who i am. and for helping me develop into the amazing, lovely, and incredibly intelligent person i’ve blossomed into. so, here it is: thank you both. you mean the world to me. and i love you, more than i’ll ever be able to express.
(thanks mom.)
i’m a best friend whore.
lots of people collect things:
shot glasses.
teapots. (my mom)
those weird little spoons. (i don’t get that – it’s bizarre)
matches. (me)
boots. (me)
jeans. (me)
sunglasses (someone who i’m not permitted to mention in my blog)
best friends! (me, again.)
when it comes to best friends, i’m hard pressed to pick just one.
there are five gals that i went to high school with and am still very very close to and i consider them all my besties.
(i’m not comfortable naming names because my wildly popular blog invites stalkers. no, that’s not true. i don’t have any readers. just you girls. but still…i shall honor your privacy)
without further ado:
gal #1: loves everyone and everything (mostly). has the best laugh in the world. and i just adore the crap outta her. she’s so sweet that i worry about her sometimes, i’m completely overprotective of her…but she’s a tough little cookie. she can handle herself. however! if anyone hurt her, i wouldn’t hesitate to cut someone.
gal #2: my sounding board when i’m feeling a little crazy. she supplies me with wise mind, a fresh pair of eyes to see the situation with, and most importantly, wears the same shoe size as me. she’s my little bookend. (and closer to wise mind than i’ll ever be, but i’d never ever admit that to her)
gal #3: my courageous one. she’s the one with an air of mystery about her. (i’ve always wanted an air of mystery, but can’t seem to attain one. i think it’s because i talk too much. and overshare. all the time. oh well.) she’s also my favorite activity partner. i can always count on her to join me for a fun workout class or a hike. i love her for her honesty (she’s quick to tell you how she feels and i respect that!) and her spirit.
gal #4: i call her my sister. we’ve been through some rough patches (we used to be very alike). she’s a bit of a drifter. at times we’re super close and other times we will go weeks without talking. in any case, in my heart she remains.
gal #5: the milf. if you knew this girl in high school, she’d probably be the last girl you’d guess would be married with two (gorgeous) kids. she was my first friend in high school and the one that i was the closest to throughout the years. she’s more than a friend, she’s like a part of my family. my dad considers her his other daughter. she’s the one that knows all my secrets, all my fears, and all that matters in my life.
there are a handful more (specifically two) that i refer to as my best friends as well and i know there are several more that refer to me as their besties. i must say, there are few things more flattering than being introduced to someone as “shirin, my best friend”. i get so giddy when i hear it. i love love love it. when my pals say it, i hear “this is shirin. out of all my friends, she is the BEST, my FAVORITE. all the others come after her.” hence, i win!
and if you know me, then you’re well aware: i play to win. or not at all.
losing faith.
lately i’ve been bombarded with stories about cheaters/liars/jerkface boys. it makes me so so sad.
‘i want so badly to believe that there is truth and love is real’
i don’t understand. what’s the point of being in a relationship if you’re gonna cheat and lie and run around? if that’s what you wanna do, go be single! i just don’t get it.
in all fairness, i’ve been guilty of boyfriend borrowing. it wasn’t intentional. and i was young. and selfish. and very, very different. now, i know better. (read: got a taste of my own medicine and it was BITTER!)
in any case, i don’t condone cheating. or lying (unless it’s absolutely necessary. for instance: no, i’ve had those boots forever! i didn’t just buy them yesterday during my lunch break).
one (read: several) of my ex-boyfriends think it’s okay to text me obscene comments about umm…you know…the ‘stuff’ (mom, dad, and current boyfriend: i have NEVER done anything inappropriate, not till i’m married, i promise!) anyway, it’s gross. pathetic. and really really sucky for their new girls. at one point i may have found it flattering. i mean, i love the idea that my exes are all sitting at home crying over losing the best thing they ever had. but now, i just feel horribly for their new girlfriends. and of course it sends me down the whole ‘was he doing this while we were together?!’ path. and that road is just ugly. so, i’m staying off it.
but seriously, all the stories about liars and cheaters make me sick to my stomach. and make me want to never get married or trust anyone. it’s sad.
please world, stop making me sad.
this is the fear, this is the dread, these are the contents of my head.
i’m suffering from massive blogger’s block. at this point, i have seven half-written blogs. i can’t bring myself to finish them. i’m not sure what my malfunction is…if i had to hazard a guess, i’d say it’s a bad case of the crazies mixed with a little wanderlust.
i battle the crazy on a daily (read: minute by minute) basis.
the fact is, i’m completely neurotic, often anxious, and get caught up in these insane hypotheticals that i invent in my own head. i don’t know why i’m sharing this. i don’t know why i share most of the things i do…especially since i’m not really a fan of sharing. ask my mom. (about my inability to share, not about what a head case i am)
don’t get me wrong. i mean, i think i’m fabulous, but i recognize that even in all my amazing-ness – there is room for improvement. let’s not get too deep here though, that’s a different topic for another day. i just spent the better part of the morning trapped in my head over-analyzing something that i just need to let go.
apparently, ‘letting go’ for me somehow translates to ‘i need a vacation’ (just go with it). and so i’m sitting here…thinking/plotting/planning where i’d like to go. and then i realize: it doesn’t matter where you go, honey. you gotta take all your crazy with you.
so, for now. i’m staying put. in my head.
watch out, world. (read: poor, sweet boyfriend who has to put up with me)
sdinsd 