Friends 101

Even as a 28-year-old mother of two I am still learning about friendships and relationships and realizing more with each year how little I knew in the first place...

As a kid who got moved around a lot, I would literally wish on every first star I could that I would have some real friends. Maybe if I were more outgoing, I thought, I would have an easier time making friends. Maybe if I were prettier, skinnier (yes, these thoughts already entered my seven-year-old self-conscious mind), or if I had a normal family (because at that time divorced parents weren't the "norm" yet, or at least didn't seem like it to me). Just when I thought I had finally made it into a group, we moved again. And I was the "new girl"...again.

Like most kids, I just wanted to fit in, maybe even be popular. But it's not until adulthood that I've realized how to do it. And finally I don't care about those things anymore.

Having friends, and self confidence, are still important and I hope my kids won't suffer from the insecurities I had growing up. I think that what has surprised me the most is that everyone else is just as insecure as me, and if they don't act like it it's only because they are really good fakers. And that! is the key to confidence...you just fake it!

I think another part of friendships to remember too is that there are so many different kinds of friends. And it's okay to label them (in your mind) and remember the limitations of each of those friendships.
Here are some examples:

     Work Friend: This could be one or many, they are your work confidante-you get to bitch about your life because they don't know any of the people you are talking about and therefore are "safe," you might take breaks together at Starbucks-taking turns buying each other a coffee, trade shifts to help each other out, even meet up on days off for lunch or shopping-although the topics of conversation always go back to work. But there is usually an expiration date on these friends. For me, many expired after I had a baby and my young, single friends just disconnected from me. But on the brighter side, I gained new "mommy" friends.

     Mommy Friend: This could be anyone and everyone who is a mom, but typically within a 10-year age range of yourself with at least one child within a year of your own. These friendships move quickly because there is so much to talk about (how many poopy diapers do you change? cloth or disposable? how many feedings? what percentile growth? pacifier or cry it out?) and it's a friendship that can be justified through the guise of a "playdate"with many conveniences of trading babysitting and baby gear.

    Pretty Friend: She's fun, always dressed up cute so it gives you a reason to dress up cute too (girls really dress up for each other anyways, not guys, because guys won't notice all the details that we do. but we try to compliment each other in front of the guys so that maybe they will notice too). She's fun to shop with because she has cute style, and there's never awkward silence because she fill every minute talking about her exciting, but dramatic, life. Downside: makes me look less pretty (which I said I don't care about anymore, but still...), but really all the attention to making her look so good is because she feels just as insecure as me inside, but has more financial resources and puts more importance on looking good. If you are a loyal friend, she will be too. Remember, just because someone is pretty doesn't make them a bad person (although it's okay to hate them just a little for it).

     Party Friend: This is the wild girl who pushes you out of your comfort zone by either embarrassing you or making you embarrass yourself, typically done through large quantities of alcohol and the dizzying logic of drunk blondes. Lots of fun to party with...unless you remember everything you did the next day, then it's an even more miserable hangover of regret. This friend will not be looking out for your best interest, but can be a HELL of a lot of fun if you don't care about blacking out.

     Lifelong Friend: The type of friend who threatens to call your mom when you are twelve and want to go steal alcohol and get drunk in the alley. This friend, or friends if you are lucky, may disappear from your life when it's super busy, but when you reconnect it's like old times again. This friend knows everything about your past, so they understand you better than you understand yourself sometimes. This is your maid-of-honor, best friend, baby's godmother, the mother of her group of friends. She' nurturing, yet brutally honest. If you get mad at this friend, you are probably more angry with yourself for whatever they just lectured you for.

     Constant Complainer: This one is the only kind that I advise letting go of. These are like emotional leeches. They complain about the same thing every time they see you because you are the only one who is nice enough to listen and put up with their negativity. While you might feel compassionate at first, within a few weeks you will realize this is going nowhere. Your advice will not be taken, which will probably be telling them to see a therapist. And be careful if you dare invite them over because they will NEVER leave! I fell asleep on the couch with one of them over and they stayed until like 3 am until I woke up and told them to leave.

With all of these friendships it's important to never let yourself off the hook. Think about: what more could I have done or put into that friendship to make them feel important and special? and Is it worth it? Let's face it, it's a give and take deal so the trade-off has to be worth it. But be careful to jump to judgements, because sometimes people come off as snobs but they are really just shy and end up being super cool if you just step out of your comfort zone and say "Hi," really it's not as hard as it seems to be friendly and outgoing.

Ew! Warts!

Okay, so this is totally gross but somebody has to talk it about it. It all started with one little mosquito bite sized bump on my right knuckle. It didn't bother me. Didn't itch. I thought, Maybe it doesn't itch because it's on a knuckle. Then another popped up on the other hand on the joint on my middle finger this time. After a few weeks I had what almost seemed like little clusters of bumps on four different knuckles and joints on both hands.

I felt like a leper. I wanted to hide until they went away, or hide them when I had to go out. I started rubbing various oils and ointments on them to make them disappear. I even asked my Orthopedic doctor about them, wondering if they were indeed warts, since I had gratefully never had any before. I know, I know, Orthopedists/Dermatologists, whatever, I was dealing with limited insurance options here and I figured this guy was smart enough to distinguish a wart. He assured me they were NOT warts, but probably just bug bites or even eczema.

But they wouldn't go away. So I treated them with everything I could think of I put Neosporin on them. Cortisone. Diaper cream. Windex. Olive oil. Baby powder. Aloe vera. Cream. Nail polish Then I made the mistake of Googling home remedies. With the plethora of options available online I decided I must try to file these down, even though they didn't have the gross cauliflower-like crust of common warts, and then attack them with salicylic acid. Aha! I had my plan!

Well, I probably don't have to tell you that my plan did NOT go well. The file I chose was one of those rough heel file scraper things, and it was much too abrasive for my sensitive hands. A sensible person might have stopped because of that. Not me. I clenched my teeth and just filed away at the nodules on my knuckles. Not an easy task, if I didn't make that clear already.

Then, to follow up, I went to the local pharmacy and picked up some salicylic acid pads and official wart-concealing pads which I applied to my now scratched up bumps. At this point, I am hiding my hands from everyone by keeping them in my lap, palms up, or under a sweater, or with my long sleeves pulled down over them. I didn't want people to see the bumps and bandages and wonder if I am diseased. Because that's exactly what I wonder every time I see someone with an anonymous rash or strange bumps.

Nothing was working. So, I hesitantly dragged myself to the doctor. This was a new doctor, so I figured I could face her with little embarrassment since she didn't know me. And the doctor was very nice to me. Until she saw my hands. She immediately put gloves on. Uh oh, this can't be good.

She continues to tell me, well, many things actually, but most of it went over my head. Whether it was the accent, or the fact that I was now forty minutes late to my class that was across campus and sweating like a middle-aged man driving a Buick, all I understood was this:

warts don't have to look like nasty cauliflower to be warts, they can also be flesh colored bumps, like mine. And she could easily freeze them off right then and there. But...

Mine look quite red and inflamed, which is unusual. I fidgeted and tried to make up some lame excuse like, Well I sort of scraped this knuckle on the wall the other day and the weather has made them so very dry. Why couldn't I just tell her the truth? That I had done this. I had turned them into these bright red beasts because I was trying to get rid of them myself. Instead, I asked her if One might be able to get rid of One's warts through means of drug store salicylic acid patches. To my utter dismay and inner embarrassment, she gave me a firm No.

However, if the dermatologist she is referring me to confirms they are warts, then she is happy to do the procedure. Or if the redness goes away she will do it. Shit. I want them gone today. I had sabotaged myself! Now I have to nurture and heal my warts so they can look like warts and I can get that doctor to freeze them off!

Ups and Downs of Getting Published

My first reaction is, Woo Hoo I'm getting published, finally someone likes me! The butterflies beat not only in my stomach but up in my lungs as I flutter with anxiety over really putting myself out there for the public, for better or worse. Not that I would really expect to be the topic of anyone's literary conversation, but I certainly didn't expect such immediate criticism of my work!

There are really only so many things for a poet to write about. Love, family, death, disaster, and every emotion possible. If a poet writes a sad poem about losing a loved one to the untimely grips of death, does that mean that the poet really experienced this? Or that the emotions of this poem symbolize the poet's constant pain? I think poets are highly emotional people, and as such are uniquely allowed to experience other people's emotions vividly. This intense empathy gives a deep connection between a poet and their writing, but doesn't necessarily reflect truth in the sense that the poem is literally about the poet.

This may be hard for some people to understand, as is the case with my own work and my own family. I want to be proud, and shout from the rooftop that I have something beautiful to say. Although my sense of beautiful is different from anyone else, and that is what makes poetry so unique. I just want to be able to reach someone who reads my work and says, I get it. Whether it's the message I intended or something that has a separate meaning, if it speaks then it's successful.

So, without naming names, I have upset a family member with my poetry and it's very unsettling. I'm not callous, I'm not trying to hurt anyone, prove any point or paint some picture. I am a writer, I write. I write from my point of view, I write from a child's view, a woman's view, a man's view, a dog's view...get it? I don't want to be afraid of who I might unintentionally hurt in my creative endeavors, it feels somehow like that fear would taint my material.

And so I type on, unafraid, uninhibited.

How? you might ask, Could I do so? Will I change my name, create a pen name like Amy Sweeden and really tear everyone apart? Or will I change my content, and write romantic sonnets about how perfect and dear all people are? No. I will write what I feel. It doesn't mean I am writing my personal feelings out there for everyone to read like a teenager's angry diary. No. I will write whatever I feel like writing and hope that my readers will understand and appreciate it on whatever level they can. We are all flawed, and I find that our flaws and complications are the most fascinating to write about.

Don't question it, just write about it.

Ho Hum waiting for rejection...

With summer comes many deadlines for poetry contests and other literary magazine submissions, and my goal this summer is to send out as much as I can to any and all (free) contests, in the hopes of getting my first publication (woo hoo!). With this I am sure to get much more rejection than publication, and this is not being pessimistic, it's being realistic.

I got my first rejection from an anthology on motherhood. I carefully chose my three most fitting "motherhood" type poems (even though now I look back and would have chosen differently) and sent them off via the lovely swift internet to be perused and judged. I couldn't help but feel a real sense of accomplishment, not that I expected good news but just for putting myself out there. I expected a couple months at least to pass before hearing anything. But, of course, within a couple days I had the answer burning in my email inbox. Should I even open the email, I wondered, or ignore it and let the anticipation build up more? I am incredibly impatient, so that was a fleeting thought and I quickly discovered my first rejection of the summer (woo hoo?).

My only satisfaction with this rejection is that the email did say that my poems had "merit" and in a forwarded email (not intended for my eyes) I was also said to have "talent, but her poems are inconsistent- some lines are very good, some are clunkers. A no to all of them for me." I don't care that it was a "no," that person said I have talent! This was really exciting! And the push I need to keep sending them out all summer, yes, even the "clunkers."