Living Young and Wild and Free

The chorus to the song below goes: "So what we get drunk?; so what we smoke weed?; we're just having fun; we don't care who sees. So what we go out? This is how it's s'pose to be: Living young and wild and free"

My last weekend lived up to this Wiz Khalifa and Snoop Dogg track. I last saw my boys as a crew in 2007. I dunno what it is that kept me away from them for so long, but when we hooked up at one of their hotels out in Walkerville; twas as though we hadn't spent a week apart. For reasons I have no interest in getting into, I have been a little anxious about being around too many people at private parties. Seeing these boys living life as though they had no problems or responsibilities for just 72 hours made me realise just how couped up in my head I had been in the last 6 weeks.

I am young; have a little bit of a wild side that's nowhere ready to be tamed and I'd like to feel free, and comfortable and unguarded when I'm out celebrating my youth and independence.

I'm just happy I got some of "me" back within less than 24 hours.

Don't Do Drugs. They'll proper eff you up!

The Road

I didn't know of the heart that choked.

You went away and it just beat there,

Not knowing whether to follow you or

Risk a step towards you and feel itself crumble.

It's been sung sweet lullabies

While intensely listening out for yours;

Been unapologetically moved by your music

And swayed by bastardized lies.

It is still right here, where it belongs

See?

After detours and sho't left tours.

After journeys of exciting newness.

After what was, became what is:

The road that still lead me to you.

A Million Little Pieces

So the controversy goes a little like this:


James Frey fabricated key elements of his said memoir, on his stint at some rehabilitation centre.


Things such as his description of how he had two root canals without any anesthetic or Novacane for the pain (couldn't help but have Frank Ocean sing that bit in my head as I typed). I admit, when I read Frey's dentist appointment description, I was like: "WHOOOOOAAAAAAT? This poor guy?!" But I kept reading cos re-living James' story of how he had practically fucked up his life and health was riveting. However, it is apparently possible for one to not have anything for the pain. James says the reason he didn't take anything for the grueling procedure was because he was in rehab and it's naturally prohibited for one to be taking drugs of any kind, while in a rehabilitation centre. So, I moved on from that apparent fabrication.


Then there was the matter of his so-called bad-boy status...which wasn't so bad-boy after all. Apparently, he may not have been arrested as many times as his memoir claimed and he also wasn't a menace to society in High School nor Tertiary. In his description, he was an "Alcoholic; Drug Addict and a Criminal". Yet, he managed to graduate from High School and Tertiary in record time. So it's either his rich parents paid off his head masters and faculty deans or, he wasn't that bad a drug addict during those times. He apparently only had a "less than a day" stint in jail for his Ohio encounter and not 90 days as described in the book.


That 90 days then brings me to the end of the book where he summarizes how all the characters in the book either died or fell off boats and their bodies were never recovered. All except one, his room mate "Miles Davis" who is/was a Judge. His best friend, Leonard, is said to have died from AIDS related illnesses and Lilly (his girlfriend, whom he met in rehab) hung herself the day before he was released from his "3 month" stint in jail.


It turns out that Lilly didn't in fact hang herself at the Halfway House that she stayed in after her stint in rehab. She instead slit her wrists. Granted, it doesn't matter what methods she took to end her life when she couldn't wait a few more hours for James. She killed herself. So then it becomes confusing as to how she waited 3 months for someone who was not in jail for 3 months. James says he was roaming around trying to piece his life together in all the time Lilly was waiting for him. *sigh*


Anyway, I could go on and on about all the other things that have been proven to be untrue, but I won't.


The only thing that has not been disputed is how drug and alcohol addiction fucks up people's health and lives. James' rejection of the AA program and its 12 steps and him choosing and managing to go "cold turkey" from his addictions has also gone undisputed. This is someone who had a drug problem and an alcoholism problem. He went cold turkey on his addictions and CHOSE to live without them. Almost 20 years on, he's still clean. Is this not what the book is essentially about?


He is a very creative writer. I marveled at his detailed memory of his drug and alcohol infested encounters and his days in rehab. I knew even then that this was not entirely a nonfiction read , but rather a series of events that were based on a true story.


My interests lay largely in the writing style and the going cold turkey bit. The rest, I really don't give a rat's ass about. This is a great book. The editing failed it in a few pages, but it's a good story.


James is clean. Almost 20 years after he walked/got chauffeured out of the rehab centre and has not relapsed. This has not been disputed. This is what makes the book a great part-fiction story. Cos the truth is that he was indeed a drug and alcohol addict. The truth is that his parents took him to rehab. The truth is that he rejected an old-age program whose followers swear by. The truth is that he has stayed clean.


What he did to fill the rest of his story, was just creative writing. I applaud him for that, and managing to sell 17 million copies of his book in 8 weeks, worldwide.


I applaud him mostly for choosing mind over matter.


Get this book for the message behind it and not for Oprah's and "The Smoking Gun" reports' holier than though take on the story.

Two has no space for one more

The effort that goes into having an adulterous romance/roll in the hay is exhausting. I've always been one to excuse those past behaviors with: "he's not married so he's fair game". Did I ever think about the other girl? No. She did not affect my relationship with her man, so it was cool.

I've been in this Shakespearean tragedy twice. The first time around, it was a decision I made as a result of boredom from being single. Second time around: I wanted attention that I wasn't getting (after pleading for it) from a man I was seeing at the time. I have troubles letting go of something I cherish. It's an attachment issue I'm trying to rehabilitate from.

Anyway, It didn't help that said 1st guy...let's call him Hottie...was a great shag. That's not even what I was after. It was just a bonus! I mean...I meet a hot guy in a foreign land, and it turns out he lives 5 minutes (read: 10 minutes) away from my gran's house?! I got excited. After weeks of having established a "relationship", I found out that he's been in a two year relationship. Hurt? Yes, I was. I didn't love him. Didn't even see myself as his anything even with his daily visits to "check up on me". He was a habit. One I enjoyed thoroughly and it now turned out that I was "the other woman". Did I throw a tantrum and tell him to leave his woman for me? No. I knew even back then that "if he cheats with you, he'll cheat on you". Did I let him go? No. Instead, I did the unthinkable: I formulated feelings for him, so that I could justify why I was still keeping this sex-god around. Alas, that justification didn't last too long either because I eventually got bored with the thoughts of wondering if he's with her and broke things off after a fight that bleached my t-shirt and Hottie's (this is a story for another day).

The other story reads like something out of an "I told you so" book. Girl sees something on Boy's update that reminds her of another Boy she used to love...still loves... who "introduced" her to her favourite rapper. Girl starts to notice that this is not a once-off update...this new Boy is actually someone who has a lot in common with Girl. Problem: Boy has several commitments that Girl cannot compete with. So Girl steps back and allows the "relationship" to be platonic. But then Girl meets Boy for the first time and tries hard to keep from drooling, and well...the platonic galaxy lost gravity and so did the senses and clothes.

I guess I can blame the horns that were in my hormones that day. No? No...that would be a lie. I wanted him for the thrill. For experiencing what could've been. Nothing irks me more than "what ifs". It was all about me. Not him, and most definitely not his person. This is someone whom had I met four years ago, I would've had his babies solely because I was in love with his mind. We could have conversations no one else would understand. We were those annoying people who have inside jokes for everything under the sun. I love it when I don't have to explain things like: "breaking my fast" or my "Ketchup" joke. Not once have I had to explain or break it down for Boy to understand what the fuck I was on about. This sounds more romanticized than it was in my head. Mxm! The difference between Boy and Hottie is that I got too attached to Boy. Great sex and great conversations are my ideal combo and when you have that with someone who is unavailable for anything long-term, you have to let it go. So I did.

Anyway, there's too much effort in being the other woman. Twice have I been her. Not once did I fool myself into thinking that anything concrete would come from our evil doings. Why did I do it then? Simple: I explored those relationships for selfish reasons and let them go for obvious ones.

Dating

Screw that you are the head honcho at your company or that you have swam with sharks. The only other thing that petrifies me more than anything is dating. Ok, I'm exaggerating. But honestly, this is just a daunting and nerve-wrecking experience if you haven't done it in a while. Or worst yet, if you've just come out of what was a long and committed relationship.

The rules of the dating game seem to change a little too often. On which date do you let him kiss you? On which date do you sleep with him? On which date do you lay out your medical history and ailments? When do you even start talking about your past relationships and the unresolved issues that you packed up and took with you when you left it?

I hear: "go with the flow" but you have to understand that some flows are a little too fast, torrent even…or a little too slow and figuring out if you have to paddle or float can be tricky when you don't know how deep the stream is. One small thing can ruin what could have been something special and usually, it's that "expectancy" factor. Granted, the whole dating matter is about getting to know one another but I can’t help but think that more often than not, you already have these expectations of the person you are about to scan on your date. And that sucks!

Coming from a time when I never questioned anyone’s thoughts to now being afraid that anything said or done could render the end of something newly started, is frustrating.

I like you but I know absolutely nothing about you. Maybe not absolute. But it’s not enough for me to walk into a store or a record label or even a bookstore and say: “he would love this”. And then of course you have to stop yourself from thinking about the guy who you know oh so well as you walk through those aisles.

I like being liked. Dating is like me putting myself in a petri-dish and screaming: “like me! Like me!” under that microscope. I hate that. Just like me. And tell me enough about yourself to make me break into a grin when I walk down random streets and aisles and think of you. So, fuck this shit! I am awesome. You just have to keep up with me as we make up our own dating rules.  

Words I Never Said

Nothing sucks more than “what ifs” and/or “if only’s”. They are the bane of my existence. Really. This isn’t so much regret as it is an annoyance. I have a fairly wild imagination and I can create so many outcomes out of a story that lingers on ellipsis dots.

I have full-on conversations with you, in my head, and I sometimes find myself giggling at our “conversations” too. Because I know you well enough to finish your sentences. And then there are those conversations that really hurt…the ones that are closer to the truth and grate my nipples. I didn’t allow myself to have these conversations with you. I basked in the ones that had me giggling and loving you senselessly! I’ve imagined our ellipsis’ finding conclusions in amicable full stops and sometimes in exclamations from frustration.

Now I’m trying to dumb the racket in my head, of the million words I failed to say.

It’s the scenes that play in my head where we meet up again by chance after having cut each other out of our lives. And then I hear you say: “I’m with her, now” and I desperately want you to remember that you weren’t even supposed to forget me, let alone replace me.

Oh! My poor heart!

Who do I even begin to blame? Me, for not having said those words? Or you, for not having said the words I wanted and needed to hear?

Sunrise 123

I suppose Friday nights used to be about summer loving

And in the cold months, they re-ignited some uhhh…loving.

They were never about disappointments and shady dealings

If anything they were times when we actually listened to our feelings.

Those times were like the last four lines

Nothing was forced, not even the rhymes J

*sigh* look...

The sun rose in the east as I headed to the north

And I thought about those Friday nights when the sun set in the west

And all my problems excused themselves and dissolved with the light…

Leaving us to catch up on some loving through the night.

I miss you.