I Just Needed to Vent

So, I have this friend.

And this isn't one of those things where someone says "I have this friend," and they're really referring to themselves, in this case, I really do have a friend I'm talking about.

Anyway, him and I have been close since we were 13. He was my first boyfriend, but since then we've just been best friends.

Well, sometimes he makes me extremely angry and one time I made him really angry, so I guess we're kind of extreme friends; we either love each other or hate each other.

Regardless of what kind of mood our friendship is in, I care about him a lot. I'd lay down and die for him. In fact, tonight, he informed me he was sleeping at a bus stop, and without hesitation I offered to give him my debit card number so he could get a hotel room. Being the stubborn asshole he usually is, he denied. I know he just wants to live through the night to tell people about it.

He's really special to me though. It's the kind of instance where if he hurts, I hurt. When his girlfriend broke up with him, even though she was one of my closest friends, I was truly angry at her and heartbroken for him. She hurt him, so therefore, she messed with me.

Which is why I'm so protective. People often mistake it as jealousy but it's nothing of the sort. It's fear, I guess. I get all "Mother Lion" when I think someone's messing with him.

Or his heart.

Which is why I hate every girl he ever shows interest in. I'm sure maybe under all their Abercrombie & Fitch, makeup, and hair products they're decent people.

Or they aren't.

He's not just one of those people who likes outdoor activities, he's one of those people who loves outdoor activities so much that it might kill him. He's an extremest in every sense of the word. He's the only person I've ever met who wears mountain biking protection to go tele boarding.

Come to think of it, he's the only person I've ever met who tele boards so out-of-control-fast that he needs to wear mountain biking protection.

He's a complete smart ass. He gets so under your skin to the point that you just want to smack him. But when you do, he somehow squirms out of the way and avoids the blow.

He's also witty, intelligent, and passionate about basically everything he's interested in.

What I'm trying to say is, he's unique.

Yet, he goes for these completely superficial girls. It's not that they're out of his league, it's just that they aren't even in the same ball park. I don't mean that in a negative way, I mean that in the sense that they are nothing alike. He sets himself up to fail. To be "friendzoned." To get his heart broken.

To break my heart.

Besides me, he's had one other real girlfriend, the one I referred to before. God, she broke his heart. They were so perfect. I wish it worked out. But, she's my friend too and I understand why it didn't. And, I try to explain it to him still, 2 years later. She was close to what he needs, but still, he needs the female version of him.

I'll never meet anyone as crazy, weird, hilarious, and exciting as him. But I hope so much that he finds a girl who at least comes close.

He deserves to be happy, but it frustrates me so much that he keeps putting himself in positions to fail with these stupid girls. And it drives me crazy, so I come off as a raging bitch. Then our extreme cycle of friendship continues.

But I'm not a raging bitch, I'm just protective like I said before. Mother Lion.

I guess this post is going nowhere, kind of like his attempts with the Barbie dolls.

I just needed to vent.

My French Mistake

Today marks the fourth day I've been in Portland, Oregon visiting my sister. She's taken me over into town to do a little food shopping and show me some cool shops, but until today I didn't have a chance to do any real exploring.

Erin and Drew both had to work today so I decided to walk into town and check out this giant thrift shop called House of Vintage. It is literally a warehouse full of old clothing, furniture, art, cameras, records, jewelry -- you name it. I got lost in there for probably an hour.

I didn't know how to use the French press in my sister's house so I figured I would go find a coffee shop to dwell in for awhile to pass time, and get some caffeine in my system while I was at it. When we were in town the other day, Erin pointed out Hawthorne Café and said it looked like a good place for me to go.

So I did.

But I walked in only to realize it was kind of a fancy sit-down restaurant and there was a bunch of old people sitting together having lunch. I started to get embarrassed because I just wanted a coffee and bagel to go, but the host was a French guy and I didn't understand what he said, but next thing I knew I was being lead to a table, for one, next to the window.

I was slightly mortified because I looked like an idiot sitting all alone and I probably had the biggest TOURIST tattoo stamped on my forehead. I looked around nervously trying to figure out how I was going to escape but the French guy was back with a cup of iceless water and saying, "To drink, Mademoiselle?" Did he just call me Mademoiselle?

"I'd love a cup of coffee with cream, please." Well, I was trapped. I had to sit in this fancy restaurant with white table cloths and iceless water all by myself.

I was starving though so I figured I'd take advantage of my time while I was there. I ordered the crêpe special which came with cream cheese and fruit filling, a side of a half an eggs benedict, as well as a fruit cup. Don't judge me, I was hungry.

I sipped my coffee and watched the old people in the restaurant, and I overheard the French guy say goodbye to them. I figured it was some people that he knew because he said, "I love you! Thank you so much for coming!"

When he set the food down in front of me, he reached to refill my coffee cup, and as I went to protest, it was already too late so I thanked him instead. I couldn't even finish saying, "Thank you," before he said, "I love you, you're welcome!" I blushed, and laughed because I usually laugh when I'm nervous. Then I dug into the delicious and beautiful meal that was set in front of me.

At first I thought the French guy was insane, but then I started to feel very at ease and happy to be sitting in this café. It was romantic, in a way. I was sitting next to the windows which over looked this beautiful garden, and the rush of the street below me. I felt calm in a crowded area, which usually makes me feel overwhelmed. I ate my French crêpe, laughed at my French host when he said, "I love you," again as he poured me a third cup of coffee that I didn't want, and soaked in the romanticism of the whole situation.

The meal was incredible, and exactly what I wanted. I sat there, sweating because the coffee was so hot and I was trying to finish it quickly so I could be on my way. The French guy came back over to my table and I figured he would be giving me my check but instead it was more coffee.

"Some more for the road, I love you." Again, I giggled and blushed, and considered if he was insane one last time, but he turned and said, "You're going to go home and tell your family how this guy at the restaurant kept telling you he loved you. But it's a nice thing to hear, isn't it?" I smiled, and thought about it for a moment. It was a nice thing to hear. "I think it's wonderful," I answered back to him, and sipped my fourth cup of coffee which was shaking in my now over-caffeinated hand.

He brought me my check a couple minutes later. "It's been a pleasure, Mademoiselle, I love you and have a lovely day."

What was at first a mistake turned into a magical experience. I left that café with a smile on my face, and if I have the chance, I'll probably go back again while I'm here in Oregon. I continually find myself underestimating the power of words, but certain times occur which make me stop, think, and realize that words are incredible. This was one of those times. Words have such effects on people, and we have to be careful how we use them.

But, there is never a time when you shouldn't express your love for someone, even a stranger.

I can't remember if it was my mom or my dad that always told me humiliation is good for the soul. I always thought that was stupid, because I hate being embarrassed. Today I had the all too familiar feeling of embarrassment when I first walked into the Hawthorne Café, but it turned out much better than I had initially thought.

It's good to feel a little embarrassed, and to accidentally step outside your comfort zone.

It's even better to be told you're loved.

But it's the best to tell someone you love them.

To whoever is reading this, and especially to the French guy, I love you.

Best Damn Decision I Ever Made

When I was in high school I vowed as soon as I graduated, I would never ever go back through those double doors unless it was absolutely mandatory. I never wanted to be one of those people who comes back in as if they never graduated and expects people to go crazy over the fact that they are in there.

I went back to Profile three times this year.

The first time was because my favorite teacher, Mrs. Innes, had something to give me and I had books to donate to her classroom. I also wanted to say goodbye to her because I was leaving for college the next day.

The second time was because I was re-applying to college and needed to ask Mrs. Frank how to send my A.P. scores. It wasn't bad because I snuck in and out pretty easily without having to talk to anybody.

And then I went in today. It was on a whim. I was doing a little cleaning and realized I had a bunch of books I've already read just laying around. So I picked them up, straightened my hair, brushed my teeth, and drove to Profile to see Mrs. Innes.

I walked through the doors and saw the same janitor I see every single time I go in who still can't remember that I dropped out of college, so I re-explained it. I saw Don, who said, "Hello, Friend," and smiled, and that made me feel good because he called me Friend. Sometimes I feel like I don't have many friends.

I said hi to Zack in the library, and overheard some redneck kid talking about how he was fooling his substitute teacher by going to get a drink and just wasn't going to go back to class. What an amateur.

You say you have an appointment and that you gave a note to the office. Dumbass.

Anyway, I walked into Mrs. Innes's room and she did a double take at me. She hugged me, and we talked. I was so happy to see her again.

She knew I had left school, and asked me what I've been doing since then. Since I left Colby-Sawyer, I haven't really had enough time to think about what I've done, I've just done it. But as I was sitting there in her classroom talking about it, it was strange to hear it all.

I left school and went to work. Every day.

Then I found another job at the Ski Club at Cannon Mountain.

So since I was making money, I moved out of my dad's house and into my own apartment.

Then I adopted a doggie.

And moved out of my apartment and into a beautiful cabin.

I bought plane tickets to go visit my sister for 2 weeks.

And I start school again at the end of this month at the community college.

It was interesting to look at and realize how much I've done since I left college. I grew up.

Fast.

It made me start thinking, because I often feel slightly embarrassed of what people think of me since I'm labeled as a college dropout. But, I realized, if I didn't leave school, I wouldn't have had the chance to do everything I did this year.

There are two times in my life, I can think of, where I made the decision to do something that everyone told me not to do.

The first time was in tenth grade, when I dropped American Studies.

The second time was when I left college.

I gotta say, that was the best damn decision I ever made.