soopastryheart

8. Fake modesty doesn’t make you humble, or considerate. It makes you an asshole.

7. 14-hours a day in a car for a week while you travel cross country can make you have psychopathic thoughts, delusional conversations, and some serious soul-crippling realizations. You also learn that belting out the soundtrack to Hairspray (off-key no less) loses its novelty within the first song, and that if you really listen to the rap songs of your youth, you’d be appalled by the actual lyrics. You discover that middle America offers a whole lot of nothing, and that there are just as many billboards for porn warehouses as there are cow fields. You can also come dangerously close to killing your passengers, no matter how much you love them, especially around the 13^thhour.

6. Sam Worthington. You had me at hybrid cyborg.

5. Just cause it’s there doesn’t mean you have to eat it. I’m looking at you, can of frosting.

4. And you, leftover Halloween candy.

3. It’s easy to worry about being a good friend, especially in a moment of heartbreak and need. You choose your words carefully, and question everything that does manage to leave your mouth. You can wish you were more eloquent, or more effective in alleviating the pain. But when there’s little that can be done or said, the best you can do is make sure you’re there when they need you.

2. Why is James Franco on General Hospital?

1. A small probability is better than zero probability. Life is short.

I was talking to a friend the other day, who told me something that truly surprised me. He didn’t confess he was getting a sex-change operation or that he secretly married a 50 year-old mother of 6 (two things that would have shocked me less). He simply told me that after the marines, he hoped to be a better man, a better human being.

And that left me quite confused, because in the near 13 years we’ve been friends, I’ve never considered him otherwise. He has always been someone with strong character; kind and considerate, patient (enough to tolerate me for over a decade), and as loyal as a mom for Team Edward.

I didn’t press him to elaborate, partly because I didn’t think that fast, but mostly because I was trying to understand how he couldn’t see everything I’ve seen in him. We grew up together, shared laughs, tears (and occasional snot- on my part), and love for diarrhea-inducing foods. He was the crutch, the brace, and the bandage during my most damaged days. Even with my incessant bullshit and stubbornness, he stuck with me, even when I always stick him with the bill. I watched him (with a little push of my own), tap into the limitless potential I always knew he had. I watched as he took responsibility, owned up to his mistakes, and tried earnestly to correct them at every turn.

And over time, we’ve managed to build this incredible friendship, one with the ability to carry on a conversation with 12 different topics, and an impressive level of trust. I consider him family. And it was that trust that I had to believe in the most when he announced that he would be giving up the comfortable, even enviable life he had established, to join the military. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t support it. In fact, I was so angry, I wanted to hit him in the face with a folding chair.

Eventually, I accepted it – I trusted his judgment, his instincts. I knew who he was. And that was enough for me to believe that anything he did, there’d be a reason, a purpose, a truth.

But then he threw me off with his “better human being” comment. How could he not see everything I’ve seen, everything I continue to see? I’ve never seen him do one malicious thing, or even, carry an evil-spirited thought. He’s always been open and honest, and never judged anything or anyone carelessly. He’s selfless, generous, and loves his mother (and his ugly ass poodle, rest in peace, Rusty). All I saw, all I’ve ever seen in him are good – so how could he possibly think anything less than that?

I think there’s a clear disconnect from who we see ourselves as, and who everyone else sees. I’m talking about all the qualities that our friends and families know us by, but ones that we rarely allow us to admit for ourselves. We don’t allow ourselves to accept our best features, the characteristics the people around us recognize us with, because it just seems like too high of a compliment to earnestly deserve.

Yet, those who love us, those who knows us best will continue to convince us otherwise. And if we trust our family and friends with their answers to “can you see my back fat in this?” then why do we choose not to believe them with things much more substantial to the heart?

Sometimes, during our attempts to be modest, we resort to self-deprecating tactics. We don’t mean to come off as having the confidence of a 14-year-old, but it just doesn’t feel right to acknowledge the praise being offered. Sure, we could try to be gracious, but the psyche works in such devious ways, that sometimes the only response we’re able to spit out is one that vehemently denies the pleasant offering.

Some days, I like to pick fights with myself, warranted or not. I poke at the squishy part of my stomach, question the genetics that gave me my nose, or wonder why I bother with a bra at all. When it comes to applications, I cringe most at my answers under “describe your personality”, but I have no trouble listing off every redeemable quality in each of my friends (they make it easy). For every six pages I write, I delete four. And it always, always looks better on the mannequin.

I think the trick is to not misinterpret personal insatiability with self-uncertainty.

Sometimes our insecurities can take us down really narrow and twisted roads (google pro-anorexia or “why is Avril the one who gets me?”). We manipulate, torture, and completely obscure who we are in the name of self-improvement. But self-growth is one process that should never reach an end. Don’t allow yourselves to become complacent, to idle in being content. You should never not want to do better, be better… ah …I get it now.

What I’m trying to tell you friend, is that I trust your instincts and judgment (with the exception of the asphalt incident and Pita Pit – where were you on that one?). If you say there’s room for improvement, I will continue to support you in any endeavor you seek in achieving this task (unless you know, you start reciting Miley lyrics as your personal motto). You have never been anything short of amazing when it comes to supporting me, regardless of how idiotic the plan sounded. And the fact that you want to continue to evolve, continue to strive to be better, speaks loudly for your person.

I will always be curious to hear what kitchen utensil you identify with most… you know, as long as you continue to pick up the check.