Neophyte

I’ve been meaning to write this post for several weeks now, but it’s just such a beast of an entry that I reverted to my four-year-old self and have been sitting in a corner playing with toys, pretending not to hear my laptop calling and ignoring life almost altogether. Then I made the realization –well, not the realization, more like I finally chose to address the fact –that the reason everyone is so freaky about getting things done in life as soon as possible is because we’re all trying to make something of ourselves before the inevitable. It’s all a race against time, isn’t it? So if I can’t move on and maintain a proper website until I get over this hurdle, I should just get it over with.

I realize how psychotic that sounded. Please don’t e-mail me about it.

A few weeks ago a good friend of mine that was going through some relationship issues told me she’d once found the answers she was looking for right here on this website, and since then she’s been coming back hoping for more. A few weeks before that another friend of mine all the way on the other side of the world sent me an e-mail and the first line was: Dear Chelsi, Queen of LOVE. -Both poor friends are actually under the impression that I actually know what I’m talking about half the time. But the truth is, dear Internet, when it comes to relationships, I know nothing. Sure, there are times when I’ll spout off some things that sound logical because often we can make sense of our lives when we look at them in retrospect, or if we’re just coming from a third person’s perspective, but there are more times, times like the ones I’m currently living, when everything is just a jumbled pile of crap.

When I’m going through relationship, or what-the-fuck-is-this-ship problems, they are more often than not ones that have lasted years, involve the same stupid person, are always either on the forefront of my brain if not floating around in the periphery, and just when I think I’m getting over it, getting stronger, something happens and I completely fall apart. You’d think that I, the one they call Queen of Love, or Girl With Answers to Life, would be able to step back and look at my heavy situations and find that one tiny pinprick of a malfunction, like a single defunct wire in a bundle of Christmas lights, and just fucking fix the shit. Or better yet, I’d just go buy a set of new lights and call it a day. But in all honesty, I’m just not as smart as I come off to be. And I suppose if things were ever that easy, I wouldn’t feel the need to send my problems out into the electronic, unrelentingly judgmental abyss that is the Internet, now would I? (Side note: for my newer readers, if you were around to read my high school entries, you probably would have pulled out a gun and shot yourself because I was the biggest sack of self-pitying shit ever.) Of course, I stay in denial by not opening up my comments because I’m sure strangers would gladly rip me another asshole, but that’s another story.

Denial doesn’t work for this relationship stuff, I do know that for sure. The longer you stay in denial the better chance you have for monumental heartbreak on top of monumental heartbreak from the same person, and I really don’t think anyone deserves that much power over another human being. It just isn’t right. But, another truth is I am masochistic, so, even though this paragraph alone sounds like it came from a fairly level-headed person, I rarely ever take my own advice. Instead, when I’m going through problems of the heart, I do the following things:

- Sex and the City on repeat. I know how girly that sounds, I’m sorry. And no, I’m not going to go into how many times that show has saved my life because it’s too ridiculous to actually put into words, but it has definitely been more than like, a hundred.
- Music. Music has saved my life even more times than SATC, if you can believe that, and I’d be more than happy to suggest some tracks that can make you feel temporarily invincible, and I promise that none of them will be I Will Survive.
- The banner on my phone says DON’T DO IT. “It” being drunk dial of course, (another problem I’ll save for another post) but it also means don’t text, don’t call, don’t sit there and think up reasons to call the person you so desperately want to talk to because if they’re making you feel like a big fat pathetic slug, they’re probably not worth it.

I feel really dumb for just typing those out, but it’s all I really have to offer at this point. So to the two gals I mentioned earlier: I hope this helped. If you can’t connect to me through my false all-knowing-ness, then maybe we can just relate through our own girly stupidity.

Cheers.