And for me, I've always been a people-pleaser that cannot handle underlying tension or conflict with others. Seriously, I don't understand what's happened to the art of communication anymore but it's all in the zodiac, I'm learning. What you see is what you get with me. I love everybody and will continue to love everybody even if they're just downright b*tches, as I tend to value what they offer to the world over how awful they are to the world. Does that make sense? In other words, the Queen of England could call me a peasant and spit on me and throw her Corgi on my car but I'd still worship the grounds she walked on because hello, she gave us Prince William. Sort of. I know, he's married, but I've never been attracted to the other one.
And this ridiculous take on things has provided this Taurus with many troubles, as I'm an emotional and sensitive person despite coming off (mostly) as a happy Harriet. And my close friends (all confident, kick-ass, inspiring women getting me through this life) continue to tell me to forget the assholes I occasionally come across/am trying to fix or help or please or whatever it is that my inner-mom tries to do. And they will probably forever have to do this because I'm not sure I can change a 24-year-old habit; once I reach my pressure point (and they all know when I've reached it), I'm grabbing the iPhone and tapping that 'Favorites' icon.
However, as someone who justifies everything, I need mean people in my life. I do, really. Hear me out on this.... I need those occasional (yeah, I sure as heck don't want them consistently) assholes to remind me that not everything is rainbows and unicorns and Nutella. I tend to be such a daydreaming fool, with more ideas than time, that forgives too easily and is simply uncomfortable with reality. I'm bad about brushing off the things that I need to be doing for me in order to please others. And 9.9 times out of 10, those "others" are not going to determine my life's outcome and/or be there when I need help. And I've learned/am reminded of this by those confident, kick-ass, inspiring women that I am so blessed to call my friends. The horrible, old customer that believes in cussing at me, I need. The psycho ex-lover playing mind games, I need. The depressed boss expressing pain by being Hitler-esque, I need.
Because all of these negative Nancys (wasn't sure what grammar mark to use here) remind me that there will always be Regina Georges in the world. I cannot change that or them as much as I may want to. Unless I find some utopian world to reside in, like the Bahamas, my weather-predicting Karen must resist the urge to be influenced by these Reginas and forget the responsibilities to myself, like Cady Heron. Again, does this make sense? Or am I trying to justify something ridiculous here? Probably. God I could use Mean Girls references all day long, you guys. But my point is, as someone who nowadays tries to be a good person, and learns best visually, I need those awful people to provide examples every so often to remind me that yeah, we all have our own sh*t going on; it's one thing to let that sh*t affect you, but to let it essentially affect others just ain't cool. And the more Cruella de Vils I come across, the easier it gets to brush 'em off, throw a smile back on my face, and appreciate those who offer not only something positive to the world, but something positive to me, myself, and I. As a 24-year-old, I like to think that I have a few more decades on this earth (God-willing) so the quicker I learn this, the better, no?
And on that sappy note indicative of a 20-something thirsty for therapy, I'm going to wrap it up because I'm at the Lakeside Park, my all-time Dallas favorite, and it's getting too humid. I also have a DMA date that I'm pretty excited about so I'll stop doing my favorite thing in the world, rambling endlessly, and probably only to some middle-aged Russian sitting in a Siberian coffee shop still using dial-up, to be there on time.
|Obviously ending on an Amy P note, too.|