I am going to see my best friend in Ohio next week. I found out today that she has to work everyday that I am there. 500 miles there and 500 miles back for three nights. That is love. I am in the process of stitching her a little housewarming present. Pictures to come upon completion, I promise. I learned to knit and stitch and sew at a very young age; my mom is very crafty. And for a while, starting in my late teens, I was really into mixed media art projects, collages, paper crafts. But I've been really inspired to paint lately, and I'm a little embarrassed to say that I don't really know how. Perhaps it's lack of imagination on my part. I've been thinking about signing up for a painting class at an arts center in town or maybe trying to find one in the city.
Sometimes I feel like the only way I am going to find a good guy is by process of elimination, and I feel like I've been making my way through them rather quickly lately. My little brother gave me the best advice last night, the kind that I would give to other people but am too blind to take myself. He said, and I'm paraphrasing, "Just be honest. That's it and that's all. Whatever you're feeling let him know, but be sure of your feelings first. Your feelings are a part of you, and if he can't appreciate your feelings then I expect you and him aren't right for each other." I fully understand that I'm a little bit nuts. That is to say I feel things more intensely than a lot of people (ie passion, which I've heard people say is an admirable quality), and, rather than bottling my feelings up like every other person on the face of the earth, I believe in letting them flow freely, and this is, by no exaggeration, utterly frightening for some men. (Seriously, I've met so many of them this past year that I've lost count.) But, you know what, fuck 'em. The path they're on leads them not to happiness, but to some sad girl with so little self-worth that she's willing to make due with the meager emotional sustenance they're willing to spare. And I am not that girl by any stretch.
But then again, maybe he's wrong. Maybe the crazy's in the blood.
