don't care to hear 'em play a tango, I'm in the mood to gear a mambo

I'm feeling energetic tonight. I hung out with Daniel for a bit, which was lovely as always. Then he left to be all fabulously academic, and my original plans involved changing into pjs, doing multiple loads of laundry, and either watching Back to the Future or yet more episodes of Friends. [Sidenote: I have been on a ROLL lately with the Friends-watching. For serious. I'm rocking through season three presently, watching such gems as The One with the Jam ("Remember when your mom used to drop you off at the movies with a big spoon and a jar of jam?" and The One with the Race Car Bed ("Do I have a middle name? Okay... Monica... Faloola... Gellar.").
GLORIOUS.] Then, I realized I had energy. Possibly enough to go out with co-workers. And look cute. For serious. I'm rocking the autumnal style of a short skirt (not TOO short. I'm not a hussy, people. Nor quite that bold.) with tights and hott heels. This is going-out type clothing, people!

You know, I was always staunchly anti-tights. Up until this very autumn, the fall of my twenty-third year, I hadn't worn tights of any variety since I was possibly about six years old and my mother made me. My mother is the sort of woman that declares once it is chilly outside, you wear hose with a skirt. Or just wear pants. Every other woman in attendance at a winter function could be wearing a skirt and my mother would bust out the black slacks because hey, they're dressy. She went to my cousin's wedding a month or so ago and called me practically two times a day during the weeks leading up to this event with countless fashion inquiries.

To put this in context: I am my mother's only source of fashion information. Her seventeen-year-old daughter chooses to deck herself out in textbook Hollister (not the slutty stuff) and Aeropostale (without all the corduroy). My mother has no close friends. No, really. I'm not exaggerating or being mean or anything. She keeps in touch with her one good friend from high school, who still lives in PA. She has a terrible relationship with her one sister, who also lives in PA. Her best friend is my Dad, who similarly, only has her for a friend. They are there for each other more than one hundred percent, and that is all they need. I've always found this to be both admirable and a little sad. My friends in high school would always talk about how they had to stay home and watch their siblings because their parents were going out to dinner with their friends, or going to such-and-such's soirée, or meeting so-and-so for a movie. My parents never did that. I believe they hung out with my little sister's best friend's parents once. And I don't really know why they were invited, because it was an evening centered on playing cards, and my parents don't play euchre (I know. They've lived in the Midwest for thirteen years and DON'T PLAY EUCHRE?!? O THE TRAGEDY!). We don't have any close family within a twelve-hour drive. So we were each other's friends. We kids, of course, found circles of fellow kids to chillax with, but my parents were always totally fine with just having each other. That astounds me.

I love spending time with my guy. He's incredibly good to me and we get along swimmingly, probably because we laugh at each other's insane sense of humour. However, I have absolutely NO PROBLEM AT ALL when he's all "Hey, I have ish to do tonight, so I'll catch you tomorrow," or, "Hey, Taylor and I are hanging out tonight and we haven't chatted in awhile so is that cool?" He never has to make excuses as to why he isn't hanging out with ME ME ME ALL THE TIME OMG PICK ME. Never. Busy tonight? Sweet! I can watch a guilty pleasure movie like The Secret Garden and not feel silly! [Sidenote: he has totally watched this with me. Now THAT's a keeper, ladies.] I can browse blogs on the internet and suddenly realize three hours have passed! I can read Agatha Christie and get visibly excited when Hercule Poirot is close to nabbing the murderer! [Yet another sidenote: he's totally seen me get nerdy with books, so this probably doesn't count either. Hmm.] Similarly, he knows he can call me to say hi and I'll say, "Hi I love you but I'm hanging out with work people tonight so I'll talk to you later." See? We can have friends AND still see each other pretty much every day.

NEW TANGENT THAT IS VAGUELY RELATED BUT ALSO SORT OF NOT, AND ALSO, MY GOSH I'M A.D.D. TO-DAY: Practically every serious couple I've known has gone from perfectly normal, sociable individuals to the glued-at-the-hip, incapable-of-going-anywhere-without-the-other type once they found "that special someone." I have ALWAYS been highly displeased with this type of behaviour. I HATED that my friend would just disappear or become someone else, just because they had found a boyfriend or girlfriend. I always thought that your significant other should complement you (different from "compliment," people) and help you to become the best version of yourself - YOURSELF - and not dramatically change you in any way. He or she should accept you for who you are. I have known many people who were a vibrant, sparkling, unusual personality that, once attached to The Significant Other Unit, became a much stifled, quieter version of him or herself. Does that make sense?

Now, people have tried to tell me, "But Holly, it's called MATURING. They were SO CHILDISH before. Now that he or she is in an adult relationship, it ALL CHANGES." To which I say: HELL NO. Just because we're "adults" doesn't mean we can't have fun and be random and a little crazy at times and ridiculous when we feel like it. People can still have fun even when they're fifty-five years old and have gray hair and reading glasses and three children (yes I did just describe my father, who is a quiet, reserved sort of individual in social situations, but has one of the most playful spirits I've ever known, a joy that only reveals itself when he's with my mum and sibs). Story example: the other week, Wellie (the Little Sib) was taking photographs outside for her photography class. Her assignment was to take photos of "letters" she found in nature/ordinary objects/creative ways to invoke the alphabet/etc. She was struggling a bit, and I joked that she should just write a letter on a piece of paper and photograph that. So my dad immediately found some post-it notes, drew random letters on five or six, and proceeded to sneak out back and post them all over the porch for Wells to find. My mum, dad, and I hid in the sunroom, giggling at ourselves, watching Wellie creepily from the glass doors as she came around the side of the house and indignantly noticed my dad's trickery. SEE?! BE OLD(er), STILL HAVE FUN AND BE WEIRD AND EMBRACE YOUR INNER CHILD. These are the things I will remember about my dad when he's gone, not what he got me for my birthday or how nice our house looked.

That tangent got way out of control. I should have warned you at the onset of this post that I was in a random sort of mood.

I still have energy. I still rather want to go out with chums tonight, but now it's coming on eleven and I have to work tomorrow night and I still haven't done any of my four loads of laundry I know need to be done and I should probably be responsible and go to bed early for once in my bloody life. But I still look cute.