I really, truly appreciate the relationships that I have right now, but I really don't have room for any more, so please don't try to be my friend.
Um...not that anyone is. Trying.
There is Katie, who is a rock of sorts. The sort of rock that you can't talk to on the phone unless it is a dire emergency, but you can talk to her online for absolute days. She will never, ever judge you, and in turn, you will judge not her but her boyfriends for not being good enough. You want to protect her, thinking if ever there were someone who deserves to have the perfect mate, this is her. Anyway.
There is Esp, with whom you celebrate the superficial things and together, you make them deep. It's kind of annoying how she's impossibly busy, but that makes the time she finds to hang out all the more special.
There is Joanna, and even when you live in the same apartment, you only hang out when you're hanging on by a thread and she'll let you focus all your frustration on her. You might talk once a month, but those conversations last hours even if they're only twenty minutes long.
There is Adam, and he makes you feel normal in comparison, and you will attempt to dissect each other's psychoses and there will be no conclusions but a catharsis of sorts in spite.
There is Michelle, who is your most normal friend and she is the type of perfect person who excels at small talk, a talent you have yet to nurture. She makes you feel like you're a good friend even if you're not.
There is Suzzi, who is the fun one. Things will never be boring around her, but there will always be some kind of fun-inducing substance hanging out in the background.
There is Derrick, whom you keep around in case he gets famous. Also, he makes you feel deliciously attractive.
There is Jen, who is kind of like a second mother and she is judging your every move but you know who to call when the shit hits the fan.
There is Sanam, who is the cynic of the bunch. If she laughs at something you said, you know it was funny.
And then, there is Aaron, who has become the embodiment of all these characters in your little realm of sanity- he can make you laugh when you're pouty, he'll laugh at you when you do silly dances, he'll say nice things when you feel insignificant, he'll be so fucking needy that you have to step outside yourself for once, he'll be demanding to the point that you wonder why you keep him around at all, and then you'll come home from an impossible day of serving other people's demands and he'll have candles lit and dinner ready and he'll serve you and be as excited to make you happy as you are to be made happy.
The great thing about Kid Koala is that, even when your CD is scratched beyond compare, the songs still sound awesome and it's like nothing is wrong.
Another few points about the sound system Aaron brought back: two Bose speakers, a Yamaha receiver, a Philips 5-disc CD changer, and now I can listen to my Phantom Planet and feel that I am experiencing every chord in its appropriate magnificence. Also, the whole setup reminds me of my dad and how he would play Top Gun at seven in the morning at full blast through his seventies speakers (it's true, they don't make things like they used to...these things are bloody amazing) to get us up. Even today, every time I hear Danger Zone (which is not often), I am reminded of waking up in the pink Costco sleeping bag, crawling to the bathroom where I once spent the night because I had such a vicious flu, grabbing a bag of peanut M&Ms from the freezer for a mid-skiing energy boost, and braving the weather to get from the house to the Suburban that my dad had preheated. Sunriver, Oregon, holds some of my happiest childhood memories.
I used to be truly priviledged. My mom complains that I am not living up to her standards, because she and my dad worked so hard so that my brother and I would have an easier time getting through, and I appreciate that I had the opportunity for a happier childhood than most, but I have not evolved to the point that I can learn from her mistakes. History is doomed to repeat itself; my family and I cannot escape this cliche, and I'm tired of trying.
The only time I really enjoy my father is when we're skiing, because he has nothing but good things to say. Truly, I am a talented skier. I have been skiing since I could walk (literally), and I can ski anything, but I prefer moguls. I can get down the mountain faster and look better doing it than you. Everyone who sees me ski is appropriately impressed, my dad's ski patrol buddies included.
The reason I am so adament and, let's face it, egotistical about this is because sometimes it seems like it is the only talent I have left. I was a ballerina for five years and played the piano for six, but have long lost those abilities. I can read a three-hundred page book in a day, but no one really cares about that unless you can write a thesis on Faulkner or something in a week. I don't care to understand politics and the social issues that haunt my activist friends don't affect me in the least. I can't blowdry my hair properly (a moot point since my dog ate my blowdryer) and I wear too much makeup. I can't clean and I'm socially inept when it comes to conversation with strangers. I've burnt rice and caused more kitchen fires that I'll admit to. I'm too codependent when it comes to my boyfriend but too independent when it comes to getting out of difficult situations. Now look that way and face this: I am a horrible writer. My subject matter is hardly unique and my fiction is grotesque. I don't have good taste in music and I am in awful shape (though that doesn't stop me from dancing around the apartment naked). I hold grudges when it's unnecessary and forgive things that shouldn't be forgiven.
On the other hand, I'm really good at smoking cigarettes and watching tv. I can eat with the best of them and can spend money like there's no tomorrow. I can be quite manipulative when it's really important (like convincing people to spend $300 at my store so that my company will give me $10 for lunch). I can write letters that will convince my insurance company to cover things that they don't want to. I can alphabetize really well.
Oh! So I was at the dog park and this girl came up to me and asked if I wanted to be in their TV show. So if you tune into the Travel Channel in June, there's a show that tests products that help people get around, and you'll see me riding an electric scooter down a hill in Alamo Square with my dog running next to me. So there you go.
I wish I had showered that day.