Jan. 2nd, 2013

narcississy: (Default)
I was watching the finale of the a propos, educational Cougar Town's breakout season last night. Oenophilist Alcoholophilist Forever 21s spending a day at the beach with cervezas (gross), snapshots, and sympathetic subterfuge, it was done to break it as "lovingly" to the sole singlet of the group that his ex-wife and one of his best friends are dating. Happy ending night on the beach fire and toast ensued.

Fast-forward to when I had the theme song to Friends resounding through each wall/gyrus/sulcus/ventricle/&c., for about 20 minutes. Coupled with that to which I bore witness last night, I thought about how this tight friendship concept doesn't seem to apply to me. I can't really that I've been denatured by nurture; perhaps it's that human gene for which occurred a knockout or missense mutation in regards to me...at least/moreso when it comes to friendships not buffered with the secure borders of a few devices and a maelstrom of 0s and 1s.

It brings to mind the yesteryears ago when I was a less vibrant and none-the-less-agèd girl of eyne of blue and weight of 102 (I wish...) 102 Googols -- a girl who, just as solitary as she still boasts to this day, had set her hopes and eyne upon the social life she envisioned, modeled after the "tetrafecta" of the cast of Will & Grace. (As evidence, such musings may even be found if you, oh Hypothetical Reader, were to browse/stalk my journal's annals.) x years later, with visions past dashed and bestrewn against the ground of my life more than glass shards over the floor at a Jewish wedding, I sit here and think about how mine own project for myself was basically no less a self-sabotaging sham/false advertising than the whole "It Gets Better" project against which I've cried "foul"/"fake"/"scheme"/"virus"/"demagoguery"/"false prophesying"/&c.


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January 2013

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