And then we came to the end...

I put on a good drunk Saturday night, could you tell?

I had gone to the Mexican joint up the road with Angie for margaritas and cheese dip (it was her birthday, it's not like I could pass up the opportunity), and when we got home, Jimi had picked up a case of cheap beer, and I was all PARTY ON!

I sat here at my laptop after Angie left, wearing earbuds and jamming out to Ben Harper and The Beatles and Allison Kruass.  Jimi said the house was completely silent, except every now and then I'd blast out some lyrics, or do a drum solo on the coffee table.  It was fun.

I was feeling all nostalgic and shit, the way I do when I've got a good buzz and too much brain time.  I was thinking about how many awesome people I have in my life, and how lucky I am for that.  I posted to Facebook:

Natalie Anderson

If you love me, could you tell me so now?

 ·  · Saturday at 11:00pm near Louisville

And the love poured in - well, mostly after I went to bed, but it came.  Steve and Maria were over last night and they were all, "What was that about?" and I told them how Jimi was already in bed, so immediate gratification wasn't available, so I went to the next-best source.  And that I was drunk.

What I didn't tell them, and what I haven't told Jimi yet, is that I wrote to Kat after I posted that status.  I know, I know.  Don't lecture me.  As soon as I hit send I was like "Oh, Natalie, what the fuck?"  I don't know what's been prompting me to write to her all of a sudden, twice in as many weeks.  Nostalgia?  The holidays?  Those fucked up dreams I keep having?  Whatever the reason, I did it.  And I regret it, thoroughly, and I won't do it again.  Promise.


I woke up Sunday morning and read her response, and I've thought about her words a lot in the last 36 hours.  I've considered posting them here, for the sake of full disclosure, if nothing else.  I don't want to present a false image of myself, and her words, while I want to say they're complete bullshit, they're not at all, and maybe it's only fair to share a short version of her side of it?  To show you the Natalie she knows and loathes?  To show you another side of the person I am, another facet that makes up my personality?


The truth, though, is that I won't read them again.  Once was more than enough, thank you very much.  She said I was the most self-centered person she's ever known, that I was a bad friend because I often left her with Date-Rape Joe so I could hook up with his friend (for the record, she was never date-raped, that I'm aware of.  I remember the time that one creepy dude talked her into trying dip and she got really sick and puked, but she never got date-raped), that I never could be bothered to travel with her, that I care so much about myself that I can't focus on anyone around me.  She spat a list of my character flaws at me like daggers, and each and every one hit its mark.  There's some truth in every single thing she said.  


At least I know she didn't stop being my friend because I smoked pot.

In her closing remarks, she said something about if I'm so happy, why do I keep messaging her?

Instinct told me not to respond.  My ego told me to blast back with an equally scathing psychoanalysis of my own.  She's right.  I'm happy.  Happier than ever.  And you know what?  All this happy?  It came into my life after she left it.  IS ANYONE ELSE SEEING A FUCKING LINK HERE?  Well, good for you.  It took me this long.  In the end, I wrote back to her, "I feel so much better now."  I imagine those will be our last words to each other.

And then I went and read all the awesome, kind, wonderful, loving things my friends said in response to my PAY ATTENTION TO ME Facebook post, and I felt even better.  (Because I really AM self-centered.)  And then Jimi got out of bed and kissed my face and made me coffee and I felt even better.  And then I went to Stacy's baby shower and saw generations of friends and family and felt even better.  And then Steve and Maria came over for dinner last night, and that made me feel even better.

Life just keeps on keeping on; one of these days I'll learn to roll with the punches and let things go. Till then, at least I'm done with this.



P.S.  The picture of the "Hold to the Rod" keychain I posted yesterday?  I bought that the day I went to the Washington D.C. Temple with Kat, back in 2000.  That day I had probably one of the most spiritual experiences of my life - we were walking along the Temple grounds, and suddenly, it was like there were hands on my shoulder, pushing me toward the ground, to my knees, telling me I needed to pray.  I was too shy and embarrassed to follow through with the whole dropping to my knees thing, but I grabbed Kat's hand and pulled her over to a nearby bench, and with my whole heart I begged her to pray.  She did.  She held my hands and she prayed for me.  I felt the Spirit that day.  Today, I don't know what exactly I'd call it, the feeling that touched my heart, but that day, I knew what it was.

She bought me a CTR ring that day, too, and I still wear it from time to time, usually when I'm feeling particularly reminiscent or in another must-read-everything-Mormon phase.  Anyhow, I found the phrase "hold to the rod" yesterday in my daily internet skimmings, and it reminded me of that keychain, and that day, way back when, and it felt inspired.  So there ya go.  Full circle, and all that jazz.