I finally decided to come out of the blogging closet with my best friend, Rene (through this blog post). I hate the thought of keeping anything from her and I definitely have been feeling a little blogger’s guilt creeping up inside. It’s a little bit daunting because (a.) I care about what Rene thinks and (b.) Rene and I have a mutual friend who tends to send out these massive broadcasts updates about their life and we laugh about those pretty mercilessly. I would die if people read my blog and thought that.
Talking about Amanda yesterday made me think of all the things that I appreciate about having a friend like Rene.
21 Things I Like About My BFF
(in no particular order)
She’s a little bit country, a little bit rock and roll. (She grew up in Anchorage and L.A.)
She is the hardest working person that I know.
She is absolutely forgiving.
She uses terminology like “chillaxin” and nobody thinks she’s weird.
She has an abnormal obsession with reality television.
She is a talented artist.
She is a talented chef.
I can’t think of a better person in the world to eat Asian food with. Well, any type of food with.
She is not ashamed to put things out there.
Her heart is always in the right place.
She believes in love.
Her insecurities make her a stronger person.
Undeniably fun and funny.
We grew up with the same music. She can appreciate everything from Lita Ford to Madonna to Jefferson Starship.
Her dirty little tabloid magazine secret is also my dirty little secret.
She donates to “Idol Gives Back.”
She has survived the first 34 years without a buying a car.
She keeps me from feeling old and haggard.
Rene is the only one in the world nice enough to tell me that I’m bossy (in a bad way).
She shops at the same store that my daughter does.
She’s having a baby so I can live vicariously through her.
So I had Aaron reconnect me with his sister Amanda, my best friend in high school and POOF! we are now reconnected. Over the years I’ve wondered what became of Amanda. I usually think of her when I see a bottle of Boone’s Farm, eat cranberries or hear an “oldie but goody” R.E.M song. And of course, much to her dismay (I am sure) I ALWAYS think of her when I hear that Boston song.
As a teen, I used to think the world of her. She was my north star and I just followed everything that she did, because I thought she did everything exceedingly well. I adored her family, especially her mother, but even Grandma Esther was dear to me too (Esther made the best sugar cookies on the planet). It was never easy being an Asian in a small coastal town. I could never get my bangs high enough and using “Sun-In” on my jet black hair didn’t quite have the same effect as it did on those other girls. But Amanda’s family always made me feel at home. They were like a little piece of Americana to me and at that age being around them made me feel like I was a little piece of Americana too. I’ll never forget their kindness.
I often wonder if Amanda saw what I was trying to hide. Did she know that my mother was a paranoid schizophrenic? Did she know about all of the hard things that I was going through during my adolescence? The heartache? The self-esteem issues? Did she know how very lost I was? I don’t think I ever talked about it. I don’t remember. I always tried to hide these things because they were so hard to talk about back then. Sometimes they are still hard to talk about. But I wonder if she knew deep down inside or if she believed the little lies that I would tell to cover things up. I don’t remember much back then.
I plan on meeting Amanda and her two lovely kids sometime this fall when my schedule clears up. She lives somewhere in Portland, just a stones throw away. While we’ve exchanged emails and pictures of kids back and forth, you don’t know much until you just sit down and shoot the shit with someone face to face. I am excited to see what happens.
Okay, I am a nerd who loves politics. I LOVE POLITICS!
However, I would never write about politics because there are so many wonderful political writers out there who would laugh and cast stones at my humble opinion. Plus, this blog is no place for political ramblings. I am a single parent and mommy, that is controversial enough. Premarital sex! Bi-racial baby! Pregnancy without marriage! Devoid of religious conviction!
This little piece totally had me cracking up though. American is so hawt!
Paris Hilton responds to John McCain’s comments comparing Obama to she and Britney Spears:
Teen aged daughters are fickle, fickle creatures. They are. They hate you, but they can’t live without you. They must know your opinion about everything, but then they choose to ignore it. They pretend you don’t have feelings and then proceed to break your heart.
You may think I am paranoid, but I am really beginning to think that she thinks it’s her job to make me feel like an old hag.
Me: Why do you keep doing that when I tell you not to do that?
Paige: Duh. Because it’s my job to make you feel all old and shriveled up inside.
But once in a while, when it’s really late at night and no one is looking, Paige will crawl into bed with me and we will watch vintage Beastie Boys videos on Youtube. And then she’ll say something like,
“Please mommy, tell me that story about the three Jewish guys from New York who formed a rap band again. Pretty please.”
And for one brief second, she actually realizes that it was me who heard the song first, not her. And for one really small moment in time she knows that I know more than she does.
Because of some bigtime baby daddy drama these past few weeks, I am really stretching my kindness and compassionate muscles. REALLY STRETCHING. All I want to do is scream expletives and question whether or not I should just turn my back on the situation. I am trying to transcend my own opinions about the matter in order be there for Paige. Anger has never served me well and I will continue to visualize rising above (and right out of) this predicament.
Since I’ve been dealing with this drama, I’ve talked to a lot of people that I haven’t spoken to in years. YEARS. Paige’s father’s childhood friend, Aaron was the brother of my childhood best friend, Amanda. Aaron and I spoke a few times about the babydaddy’s situation and have tried to keep each other updated on the latest information. I haven’t talked to Aaron in a long time because (a) he is the babydaddy’s friend and thought it would be weird and (b) I totally flaked on his sister. [Amanda and I lost touch over the years because I ditched her when we lived in Portland together. I was trying to get through the culmination of a lot of years of childhood angst and drama and basically left her holding the bag. I never said I was sorry. I need to put that on the list.]
I also have been talking to David, the babydaddy’s other childhood friend. I think my heart skipped a beat when I heard his voice for the first time in a long time. David was present on the day that that I went into labor with Paige and I will never forget the fact that he held my hand on the way to the hospital and let me squeeze till I was white-knuckled. That must have been painful. And just the other day, when we were on the phone, he told me that he was on my side regarding the whole babydaddy ordeal. “For whatever that’s worth,” he added. That totally crushed me and it brought a little tear to my eye. Like some sort moment of vindication of the fact that other people realize that I am carrying all of the weight of parenting Paige. That the babydaddy’s not just moving through life getting away with being a deadbeat. Other people see it. His friends see it. It’s not okay.
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