Talks with My Twenties: April 11, 2005 - Age 24

Short Stories about Sex

Yes, that was what I wrote my second short story about for Creative Writing. Originally I had an orgasm in dialogue, but it sounded waaaaay to "bow-chicka-bow-bow" soft core, so instead I just used metaphor.

Nice huh? It's actually about physical flings and how, no matter what, someone always gets hurt. This time it was the dude....I was trying not to be cliche.

But it's written in third person objective, which means I couldn't get into my character's heads, I just had to report what I would see, or hear, or smell, if I were there, videotaping, or watching, like some sort of after hours voyeur. Voyeurism is kinda hot though.....anyways..... I just hope my instructor doesn't get offended...it's in good taste, I swear!!! Who cares. I like it.

I think I'll be adding some more pics tonight. I'll bulletin if I do. Not that anyone cares. Is it Friday yet?

Uhhhh…

So the only thing I could think to post was my actual face while reading 24-year-old me's post.

So, here it is:

"Dear 24-year-old me: What the ACTUAL fuck?"

I think that says everything I need to say about this one...

Talks with My Twenties: April 9, 2005 - Age 24

Preface: An apology

Hey lovely FLAD followers! I know I haven't updated on my usual days (Sunday or Tuesday), since the whole Pinterest amazingness happened on Thursday (my other regular update day). I had some family stuff that came up and wasn't able to get back to FLAD to update. Needed to just kind of take the week off to take care of all that.

So without further ado, let's get back to the business of Talks with my Twenties, shall we?

Girls’ Night Out, Sixty Sausages, Substance Abuse, and the after effects of Binge Drinking

So my friend Chester Copperpot came into town yesterday. Caught up with her a little. Got a bit intoxicated and reverted to some 7^th grade tendencies that, although were a bit immature, really made me laugh.
 Sixty Sausages. That’s all I gotta say.

Went to Woodhollow for about 2 hours after leaving McTavern’s We wanted to try a new place, but we weren’t feeling the vibe there. Of course Woodhollow wasn’t much better, but the music was a bit more conducive to shaking our asses. Which is difficult to do when people get up on your shit and won’t get the hint that you just want to dance with your friends. And I hate being mean, so we would just shimmy to a different part of the dance floor.

And how do you tell someone you’re friends with that their drinking is too much for you, so you don’t want to hang out anymore? I have a friend, and he was so much fun to hang out with, but he drinks quite a but and it’s something I’ve realized I don’t like to deal with.

Three times it has affected his treatment of me in a negative way. I’m mature enough to know that I can’t change him…that’s something he has to want to do for himself, but I don’t want to make him feel like crap.

I think he knows something’s up since I haven’t been going out to see him, but when I called to explain, he wasn’t home…most likely at his friends’ apartment having a drink.
  

I dunno. It’s a bummer. He and I were on the same wavelength…or so I thought. 

I am drinking orange Gatorade. Dehydration’s a bitch. 

Love,
Tiff

I struggled to come up with a response to this one.

For one, I can’t stop listening to Thrift Shop and dancing in my seat (because I’ve started doing Zumba and learned a fun routine to it…)

I'm sure this is how I look while doing said routine...

For two, I already covered the “friend” in question in a previous post.

But here goes…

24-year-old Tiff: it is okay to be “mean” to people who are invading you physically or emotionally, or verbally. That’s not being “mean” – it’s honoring and respecting yourself.

I wish I could go back and tell you that, because it has taken until now to realize this – and you had to go through a pretty toxic relationship in the past year in order to finally “get it.”

So the takeaway here is that, at 32, you get it. You finally get it.

And at 33 you start living it. Legit.

It took almost losing yourself – all those things that make you “you.” The good, the bad, the interesting, the boring, the beautiful, the ugly, the sad, the hilarious…etc.

And why? Because you didn’t want to be “mean” to someone who was consistently disrespecting and dishonoring you.

And I’m sure you, 24-year-old me, would be like, “That guy sounds like a jerk!” but the truth is, the very hard truth of it all is: you and I allowed it.

I was just as responsible for all the hurt and the pain and anxiety and darkness that happened as a result. That’s not to say I deserved it – no one does – but I allowed it to continue almost to a point of no return.

The absolutely beautiful thing is that we needed that experience to become strong enough and smart enough to stand up to it, leave it, heal from it, and go on to start living a life that’s nothing short of fabulous and amazing.

Yes, 24-year old me, we totally did.
We stood our ground, ended something that did not serve us, 
 and we moved forward. 

Of course, things aren’t perfect (what fun would that be, anyways?), but these days we don’t require the approval of others to dictate what we do or don’t do.

Nowadays, I don’t try to please everyone to the point of risking losing myself.

I also work harder to forgive.

Was that guy I dated a jerk?
I mean, kind of. But I’m sure he was also fighting his own battles. I know he was…is? (We’ve since lost touch.)

Am I still angry about it?

No. Not angry. I think about it still, but in different ways.

• I think about the happy times and I’m grateful for them.
• I think about the things we laughed about and I’m grateful for them too.
• I think about the people I met: grateful.
• I think about the fights: still grateful.
• I think about the confusion: yep, grateful for that, too.
• I think about the pain: You guessed it – grateful.
• I think about what I’ve learned: grateful.
• I think about all the things that came about during and after that time in my life, and I realize that without it all, there's no way I could be where I am today. So: SUPER grateful. 

And I think about him sometimes and just hope that he’s happy. That the new woman he's dating makes him laugh and they “get each other.” That they’re creating more happy memories and moments than not happy ones.

That he’s going after the things he’s always wanted to go after. That he’s taking the risks he always talked about taking. That he’s thinking less about what the people around him think about him, and more about making sure he’s staying true to himself.

And that if he feels like dancing like an idiot, he dances like an idiot. (Especially this one. [See? I told you there are still good memories.]) 

But most of all: that whatever battles he was fighting, or is fighting, he’s won them or is winning them.

Because to be honest, if he wouldn’t have been the way he was when we were together? If that relationship didn't play out exactly the way it did? 

We, 24-year-old Tiff, wouldn’t be in the place we are now.

And I’ll tell you what: we love this place.

As for 60 sausages?

This comes to mind...

But yeah…that’s about the guy who broke my heart in January 2005.

We (you and Copperpot) repeatedly prank called him at 3am, saying only, “soixante saucisses” (that’s French for 60 sausages, guys) over and over in weird accents.

And we laughed til we cried. And it was glorious.

A glorious, drunken, healing spectacle that I’m surprised I haven’t ever repeated…


…yet?

Update Frequency Poll: The Results are IN!

That's right, you voted (all 9 of you) and have decided how often I'll be posting in FLAD. (Well, more or less…more details on that once I announce the results.)

And the results are in!

According to your votes, the number of times the majority of you want me to post is:

Drumroll please...

"I LIKE MEATBALLS!"

Very funny...

So here you go, you delightful idiots:

MMMMmmmmmm…meatballs…

Anyhow, in the world of legitimate responses, there was a tie between posting 5 times per week and 2 times per week. This is where the "more or less" comes in, regarding your powers in choosing how often I post.

I'm deciding the tie.

I will be posting 2 times a week: Tuesdays and Thursdays, however…

…I'm keeping the Sunday Special Series: Talks with My Teenage Years, which means 3 weekly posts until I run out of high school diary entries. So, in a way, we all win.

Thank you for voting, those of you who did. I really appreciate it! And please, if this little blog brings you joy, feel free to share it with folks you think might get a kick out of it too! 

You can also subscribe over there on the right somewhere! -----> 

And a million thank-yous for no one voting, "NEVER AGAIN YOU SPIDER FART!" 

Luh' you, shawties. All of you.

Talks with My Twenties: March 22, 2005 - Age 24

Vacation….gone already 

Well, turns out my vacation stunk. I got sick on the days when I could finally go out. Lost my voice and well, I'll just say I got disrespected HARDCORE. I wanted to hang out in Chicago this past weekend, but sickness didn't allow for it. Crapola. That's the only way to describe it. However, i [sic] did catch up on my sleep. That's good. Also, I entered Stark-Tinkham today! We'll see what happens, but hey, who knows. Anyhow, I'm still sick, so I am going to go to bed. I'll catch you all up later. Anyone have any gas money? I didn't think so.

This is the only way I can possibly respond to the first part of this blog post.

The things you wrote about, 24-year-old me. Good lordt.

Anyways…

Girl, I know. Being sick on a vacation is never fun---but let's face it, this was probably the Universe's way of saying, "Oh honey…you're too broke to be spending what little money you have on trips to Chicago and Jagerbombs---tall. 

YES. 24-year-old me drank Jagerbombs tall. As a drink. In an actual pint glass.

It certainly is.

Again…

...how am I still alive?!

Ah well, eventually you start to realize these seemingly unfortunate types of circumstances are actually gifts from the Universe in disguise. I don't know if that comes with age or what, but it's a living-in-the-moment acceptance of what is. And let me tell you, it's much easier this way. 

I have no idea what happened when you lost your voice and who disrespected you or why. So, although it seemed HARDCORE…it really wasn't.

About Stark-Tinkham (my college's annual writing competition)…you win.

First and second place in the same category (poetry).

I know I like to think that I'm wiser than you in my 33-years, but in this respect you absolutely are ahead of the game. 

You believed in your work and were fearless about it. Where does that go? 

Because somewhere along the line you start to second-guess your abilities.

I mean, I start to.

What I'm saying is, I could learn a lot from you when it comes to putting myself out there and being a little more confident and fearless in the things that I do, 24-year-old Tiff.

The callout for gas money on your MySpace blog though, girl?

Talks with my Twenties: March 16, 2005 - Age 24

Vacation
3/16/2005
 Well, I just got done working out and picking up my paycheck from the Writing Center. Now I'm going to go to the bank, go home, do laundry and get CLEAN. I think I probably reek. I was sweatin like a hog. But hey, no pain no gain....right?

I head to Valpo later to pick up my driver's license which I accidentally left with a friend, then, it's off to karaoke to party with my friends. I'm not sure my body or psyche can handle the next 4 days of staying out until the sun rises, but I sure as hell am gonna try!

Besides, it's cold outside, so I can sleep during the day. What else? Hmmmm...... I don't really know, I guess I'm done writing for now.

Hold it right there, missy.

“I head to Valpo later to pick up my driver’s license which I accidentally left with a friend…”

A friend?

Would a friend get drunk to the point that when you let him know you were leaving to spend time with one of your girlfriends, he got incredibly jealous, verbally abusive, and forcefully swung open the door to his apartment and threw you out—making you so scared that you forgot your purse entirely (hence accidentally leaving your license)?

No, that is not a friend. 

And I wish I could go back in time, hug you and say, "Tiff, you don't have to call that guy your friend. You don't have to call him anything. As a matter of fact, you never need to think about or interact with a guy like that again if it doesn't feel okay. That is not acceptable behavior."

I think you knew it, but you weren't strong enough to set up that boundary yet. And that's okay.

Truth be told, it takes you years. And even now you sometimes find sticking to your boundaries challenging. But you've definitely gotten a lot better about it. 

As for staying out until the sun rises on your vacation – good for you, young Tiff. That’s a rarity these days, so I’m glad you got to experience it when you did.

But trust me, you’re okay with this…because now there are these amazing ways to spend your evenings in called “Netflix” and “Hulu Plus…”

Weekend nights start like this…

…and end like this.

P.S. Kudos on going to the gym. You tend to go in waves. Currently you're on the "I'm just waiting until it's not 400 degrees below zero before I hit the gym again" wave.  

And that's cool.