Ms D is a strange character, and while she is a big part of me, she is not all. Sometimes I like to hide behind her because she personifies the parts of me that I wish I was all the time, not just most of it. It's a fine line, the mark that separates the two of us, and often in the shuffle of life, you just can't quite see it. CJ and I had a long talk earlier this week about honesty and truth. And I'm not being redundant here - I learned that there is a difference. Honesty is laying it out and saying what I believe to be true. Truth is truth and doesn't really give a rats ass whether or not I believe it. It's kind of like me and Ms. D - another subtle line that gets blurred. We wondered aloud why it was so difficult to be honest with ourselves. Even worse was why it was so fucking hard to be truthful.
My name is Andrea, not that it matters to anyone other than me, but that's who I am. And I'm fairly cool. Ms D and I have hung out for a good many years, and they have been exactly that - a good, many years. We mesh quite well and I can't quite decide where the fear is coming from, me or... well, me. Funny how laying it out on the table ties you in invisible knots, but as soon as it's there, frees you from every bond that ever seemed to touch you. Crazy.
So my name is Andrea. I am in love with more than a handful of things that probably aren't the best for me when judged by the scale of the world. I struggle with God. Deep down I'm a good girl. Deeper down I have a streak that makes people suspect of what I just said that lies slightly above. I don't believe in buying furniture on credit for 24 months, interest free because they always fuck you over. I love sex. I believe that it's ok to really screw things up in the most royal kind of way, so long as you stick to your guns and take responsibility for everything you touched that broke. I say 'bless you' when someone sneezes, even if I don't know them and I think that's important. I'm a firm believer in skinny dipping. Journaling keeps me sane.
I have a friend named Tim and everytime I type his name, it naturally comes out as Time. So Tim and Time are synonymous. He's one of those souls that makes you think even when he doesn't think that he does, or better yet, when he doesn't mean to. It's been a couple of years since we sat down and ate Subway together, but I've been thinking about him a lot because this sounds like a conversation that I may have had with him, once upon a time. He wrote me an email once and I put a single line from it at the beginning of my journal: Don't you find that the best things in life don't exist for any particular reason and in fact, often defy the logic of existing?
There. That's better.
Come to the edge, he said.
They said: We are afraid.
Come to the edge, he said.
He pushed them, and they flew...
Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918)