Hard Work

I don't want to dwell too much on recent London events. We live in a world where these things happen. You can live in fear, or you can just live. I also feel uneasy about those who become so emotionally invested in tragedies that aren't their own. I was not injured. No one I know was injured. What happened was horrible, but is it any more horrible than any other act of violence or terror that happens around the world? I was geographically closer, true. And I know one person who was on one of the trains (and got out okay). Still, I'm okay. I won't get bogged down in the 'what ifs' and 'could haves'. You can get killed every day by any number of idiotic things. Life is for living. We must move on.

Anyway. My thought for the day is introspective and personal and has nothing to do with current events. Please don't hold it against me. I think this is just how I cope with things.

Hard work. What I mean to say is, I am hard work. As a person. I am complex, can be difficult, and stubborn. I am intelligent enough to make convincing and vehement arguments about things I believe in, and to piss people off from time to time. That being said, I am also fiercely loyal, generous, and caring towards those I count as my friends.

I have been thinking about my friends and partners and what it is that attracts me to people I meet. This was partially because of recent conversations with T about looking for someone who is 'too nice'. Once upon a time, a friend of T's hit on me. What I said at the time was, he was just too nice- and honestly, I would walk all over him.

None of my friends are THAT nice. They all have the capacity to be nice, and they all have the capacity to be snarky, biting, bitches and bastards. And I love them for it, as they love me. It doesn't mean I don't appreciate someone who is really sweet and nice. And I have known people who fall into that category that I have counted as acquaintances, but not friends. To reveal my inner bitch to them would upset them, or just confuse them. I have loved them for who they are, but they can never know me wholly- so they can never be my closest friends.

I tend to collect people who challenge me and make me think. Who keep me on my feet, and are full of surprises. Who are as likely to show up with unexpected gifts because they thought I'd like something as they are to laugh at me when I do something stupid. They are also trustworthy so that in time of crisis or need, I know they will be there for me as I would for them.

But this balance, this variety, these polar extremes.... it is all hard work. Rewarding, but hard. I don't mind it. I just acknowledge that's how it is. It's what I need from people. It's what makes me complete.

I wouldn't be happy in the land of soft fluffy bunnies. I wouldn't fit in. Eventually I'd have to scare them and chase them- just because. Then, when they were afraid, I'd make friends with them again and get them to trust me, only to eventually scare them and chase them again.