Posts tagged ‘friendship’

September 25, 2010

On friendship — an update.

by f

We’ve been pretty busy here at Subterfuge. Certain Ds have been overwhelmed by work. And F has been working on something that’s making her tear her hair out. The creative process is a bitch.

We hate it when we skip days. Yesterday, WordPress.com late-night outage prevented us from posting. Today we’re both tired. Tomorrow is another day and all of that.

But exciting things are happening. Our lives are moving forward. Another day is lived.

We leave you with a beautiful quote on friendship and bonding. It’s something sweet for the weekend, like a good candy to be savored.

*

The pleasure of your company is a many-sided affair. It includes the pleasure of seeing you, the pleasure of hearing you talk, the drama of watching your actions, your likes and dislikes and adventures; the pleasure of hunting you up in your haunts, and the delicate flattery we feel when you hunt us up in ours. We mean all of this and more when we say that we find you ‘congenial’.

Congeniality, when once established between two kindred spirits or in a group, is the most carefree of human relationships. It is effortless, like purring. It is a basic theme in friendship.

– Frances Lester Warner

September 6, 2010

Touching Base/ September ’10

by feyruhan
Vector image of two human figures with hands i...

Image via Wikipedia

I’ve been thinking, maybe I don’t want a relationship.

Not right now, anyway.  I’m happy.  I’m happy with what I’ve got, which is a lot: school, intrinsically rewarding volunteering in my field of choice, paid employment that doesn’t involve morally or socially reprehensible activities (such as drug trafficking, prostitution, or one of those phone-fundraisers who call you at home when you’re broke to badger you for money that will go mostly towards maintaining the operation rather than supporting the cause) or insultingly mind-numbing (like working at a grocery store).  I’ve got a really great friend, S, who enjoys watching my favorite shows with me and not only allows me to narrate or interject on the action or sequence of events, but gladly partakes in the discussion while we pause the show. We can talk about anything, whether trivial or deep, including everything I post here and the few things I haven’t got the balls to post here.

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September 4, 2010

Thank You for Ten Years of Awesomeness

by special correspondent
Yellow!

This isn't him, his hair was WAY brighter.

Dear Scott,
(aka, highlighter head, Apollo’s Beard, man with two or fewer brain cells…)

We have debated writing or sending you this letter for a very long time. Ten years, in fact.

Each time we thought we should send you this letter, we were put off by the thought that your obnoxious self would read it. But the older and more awesome our friendship grew, the more we realized we couldn’t let your stupidity get in the way of our gratitude.

You see, we need to thank you for being the catalyst of our friendship. It was you, ten years ago, who brought us together.

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August 25, 2010

All the things I Hate About You/ Fall ’06

by feyruhan
The 7 Things I Hate about you

via Flickr

I hate that you don’t call, and that you rarely write; I hate that you hardly tell me anything, never sharing your plights.  I hate that you assume I understand, and I hate that now I do; I hate missing you this much, and I really want to hate you.

I hate it that you don’t respond when you’re online, and that I care to check; I hate that you make me feel unloved, and cry with my head on my desk.  I hate that you worry that I don’t love you anymore, and that you have less proof that me; I hate that you make me feel this way, and that you’re surprised that I care.

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August 16, 2010

Protected: I broke up with my best friend

by f

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July 20, 2010

And I Took It

by V

via Flickr user pitzyper

This is something I really haven’t talked much about, not since I was in my brooding early and mid teens. And even then I don’t think I honestly ever delved very deeply into it.

When I was a kid, I was a follower and not a leader. Growing up I was not one of the In crowd. I wasn’t even belonging to one of the Outcast crowds. I had my own special form of Outcast crowd of which I was the only member. To this day, I don’t know why.

Most of my friends back then were only friends with me when it was convenient for them. In other words, when nobody else was around to see and when they were bored enough, I was good to be friends with and do things with.

I had one friend in particular, whom I’ll call P. She and I were best friends. Okay, let me rephrase this. She was my friend when it suited her, and I was so desperate to have someone to play with and hang out with that I generally took whatever she dished out at me. She and I first met when we were in first grade, and we remained “friends” until she was 13 and I was 14. 

She sometimes would invite me over when she had other friends over with her. But, this was not to share in a play date. Not really. This was because they were bored and they wanted me to be around to gang up on. And she would be right there in the middle of it, laughing about it, cheering them on, purposely lying right in front of me because she knew they either wouldn’t care or wouldn’t believe me if I said it was a lie, and she would actively participate in the name-calling and even (with certain friends of hers) hitting, grabbing, shoving, or pulling.

And I took it.

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July 19, 2010

A tribute to an old friend, (part 1)

by madamsbob

As I read D’s narratives from fifth grade, I was pulled back to that brisk May morning when I set out for my middle school orientation. I wore a pleated skirt and a dress shirt which was the standard uniform in my old school. My father and I were expected at the guidance counselor’s office to discuss my academic schedule and arrangements. The car ride to the school was nerve-wracking to say the least. A wave of nausea and a string of questions jolted me at each traffic light. Will I make new friends? How are the students here? What if I get lost? What if the teachers hate me?

Since I had already finished my seventh grade, my counselor had suggested that I attend classes with my future classmates for a month till the school officially ended. My father and I pulled into the parking lot. As I got out of the car, I noticed that there was a stain on one of my black shoes. I got out a napkin and began scrubbing it clean. It was futile. This made me even more anxious. My father motioned me to hurry up and we entered the main door. I looked down at my shoes as we walked up the dark blue carpeted corridor. What if the counselor tells me to go home because I had a stain on my shoe? I looked at my father. What would he say then? I bit my lip as I felt beads of sweat trickling down my temples.

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July 12, 2010

Huge: Delving Deeper

by d

I really like the Y.

“SCREW BODY FASCISM,” reads the handmade sign by Will’s bed. She made it, at least partially, from clippings taken from a magazine. A magazine that belongs to another girl.

“Ok, it fell on my bed, and when I see propaganda that I know is destroying girls’ brains, it’s my duty as an angry feminist to destroy it.”

Will really, really doesn’t like this shit. Amber has her own pin-ups, which she calls “Thinspiration.” Will puts up Rubenesque beauties from classical art. “They’re fatspiration,” she says pointedly.

I think she’s being snarky about the ‘angry feminist’ part. I hope so. Because destroying someone else’s property does not reflect well on any kind of feminism.

HEAR YE, HEAR YE. We do not advocate the willful destruction of property, even if it is propaganda.

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June 30, 2010

Plan Bashful

by f

So here’s a story D found for me on the intarwebz while I enjoyed my wild Tuesday.

It astonishes me that Plan B use is so widespread in India. I know it shouldn’t, given the billion-plus sex drives. The cavalier attitude toward sex does bother me, but I can’t see that it is any of my business. Most worrisome is that these women seem to confuse the morning-after pill with normal contraceptive methods. (Overuse causes uterine infections and irregular periods.)

According to Ms. Rai, advertisements claim the pill is a safe alternative to abortions. I find this a reprehensible practice as it is misleading. This pill will only stop a pregnancy if the fertilized egg has not yet attached itself to the uterine wall. If it has, this pill can do nothing. It’s possible — though not probable — that the morning after pill will not work in some cases. So this doesn’t stop or even prevent abortions from needing to take place.

However irrational and sometimes downright dumb this Plan B frenzy might seem, I almost admire the boldness of the new Indian woman. Yes, she knows about plan B. And, most tellingly, she’ll ask for it.

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