State of the Blog Address
So, here I am, getting ready to move into a new apartment and doing a good job at not freaking out at the prospect of having to pack up all my crap for the fifth time, since I first decided to move out here to Los Angeles. I’ve been a bit of a nomad for the past…well, ten years, really. I finally just gave up and started realizing that I can’t keep not putting holes in walls and painting, simply because I know that I might end up moving a year later because life’s more fun with color and picture frames on the wall. If I hold my breath for some stability, I’ll pass out before I can even think the word, “mortgage.”
And, of course, with moving comes the test of true love, or friendship. Unfortunately, I’m just now realizing that my big, rugby-playing boyfriend isn’t going to be available to help me move my big furniture because of a scheduling conflict. Luckily, I also make it a point to consort with buff gays and women like me, who aren’t afraid of a nightstand or potted plant here or there.
More on Lisa’s adventure in moving after the jump…
I’m already at a point in my life where I feel silly to ask people to help me move. Honestly, I’ve never been big on asking people for favors unless I’m in dire need and quite frankly, at this point, I’d feel obligated to pay people for their time. But as I’m getting more and more unsolicited offers from friends to help me out, I’m realizing how happy I am to have the circle of friends that I’ve acquired.
Here’s the deal, I’m a very impatient person with what I believe are insanely high standards. And I’m not really one to have falling outs with friends, rather, if I find someone to be too high-maintenance for my taste, I tend to simply disappear. I stop calling. Stop answering calls and just generally go on about my business. I think that after experiencing a little bit of true life drama of my own, I realized even more than I already did that I have no interest in participating in the self-created kind. So, sometimes I wonder if my impatience with people as a whole has alienated people who perhaps deserved a second chance.
However, what I’m realizing with the preparations for this move is that the people who actually manage to make it past my gauntlet of specifications are the ones who are in it for the long haul. I’m not mean, just straightforward and feel that life is too short to be passive-aggressive or beat around the bush with manipulative, leading conversations. My aggression is pretty much openly hostile, but at least you know what you’re dealing with right off the bat.
More than anything, I think this letter serves as a thank-you to my friends, who really are the family that I’ve built for myself out here on the west coast. I can’t believe you’ve made it this far.
And above is a video (NSFW) of Ms. Wanda Sykes, one of my favorite female comedians, expressing something that I never quite knew how to put into words…until now.
A Socialite’s Life
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