Girls, Girls, Girls

If you hadn't noticed, realised or knew by now - and this may come as a surprise - I am a girl. A female. A lady. Not a man.

And being of said gender I have a group of 'girls' who are my closest alibis. There are three of them. Three beautiful ladies to whom I can have heartfelt conversations with, talk bollocks with, hang out, watch films, drink, go for lunch and all those wonderful things a friendship entails. I endlessly appreciate that I can send them a text about a TV show they've never watched, a picture of my cat or a cry for help. These are my 'girls' but you will never hear me say 'I'm going out with the girls' it doesn't feel comfortable rolling off my tongue.

I am also a fan of the HBO show 'Girls'. I like this show but I think the cons are on a par with the pros but hey, it's half an hour where I can sit back, have a little laugh and be simultaneously in so much awe and be so incredibly jealous of its' creator, Lena Dunham.  

If you have not watched Girls, there's a group of four girls in their early twenties living in New York City dealing with life, work, the future and their social lives. Each is a very distinct character but the lead is Lena's character of Hannah. I won't go in to the ins and outs of the show but I'm pretty sure you get the gist from that small description. They're very close to each other and extremely open and honest. That, is where the (one of the) problem lies.

They are extremely open and honest with each other.

Is this a bad thing you may ask? Probably not.
Is it just because you're not that open and honest? Possibly, probably.

Having discussed with my 'girls' (does putting it in quotations make it seem like I'm questioning if they are females or in fact, real? I stated why up there, I don't like using it) not being that open and honest is absolutely spiffingly great and it does not deter from our friendships.

Quite frankly, sharing a bath or bathing time with my best friend gives me the creeps - yes this happens on more than one occasion in this series. Shivers and crawly-feeling skin, the whole shebang. Perhaps, I like my privacy and that makes me the weirdo but the general consensus suggests otherwise. 

Since Sex and the City it feels as though there has been this pressure on groups of females who are friends to tell each other details of their sex lives, share everything, feel comfortable stripping naked in front of each other whilst still maintaining an average conversation. It is great for these characters but really is this how everything is or am I a repressed prude? I like to think I'm not but the fictional world of television has seeped into reality has it not. I'm fairly happy to discuss things honestly but only if necessary and I don't want to be hearing about other peoples sex lives really. I wasn't involved at the time, please don't involve me now. 

Being open and honesty is a great way to be. Yet, a little discretion goes a long way.

I love my girl friends, but I'd rather not see them naked. I'd prefer not to know what they get up to in the bedroom, I'm pretty sure we're old enough to assume we're doing the down and dirty  with our partners/choices in a safe way! There's honesty and laying everything out on the table. 

Or is there? 

I hope this isn't just how I and my friends feel, maybe we are the ones missing out on another level of friendship and closeness by not flaunting ourselves both physically and emotionally to each other? Yet, you can be open and honest and assume that your friends will also be making assumptions without you having to say a word. They'll know if you're sad through a text so they don't have to sit on the side of your bath tub. They'll know if you're having fun with your boyfriend or what have you because well, they ain't stupid. They'll know. They'll just know. As beautiful and sexy as they are, I like them in their clothes.

When it comes to Girls, Girls, Girls and honesty, I'll just rock out to Motley Crue.

Life Notes #1

I'm getting old. I hit my early twenties this month, officially.

Two decades and a bit I have graced this planet and I don't feel I have been appropriately prepared for the next four to six decades never mind this fearsome decade of choice and new experiences.

There is no book I can read to help me, there were no designated lessons at school, no documentary or television series to watch and make notes and when asking those older than me I don't think they really know either. 

So mainly, I thought that should I write what I stumble across so that should I happen to pop some sprogs out in the future I can smugly say 'here you go, sproglette one and sproglette two, never fear for the great dreaded growing up can be fun' or can safely say 'sproglette, growing up is stupid, ridiculous, too serious and I wholeheartedly recommend that you avoid such a preposterous notion and go skip in the fields of wonder without responsibility and stress'.

And that, my future spawns of my own, is lesson number one. You will not know how to approach life as it's one of those things that is unique to everyone and with new technologies and hurdles, there's no one set person to help or show you the way. 

BUT! my life experience is pretty much next to nothing, I'd give it until Life Notes #459 or near enough until you get to read something truly useful or noteworthy.

This whole fiasco of realisation began when I rediscovered bands I had listened to from the ages of 12-15 roughly. This is nearly a decade ago, half my life so far, a turning point. Not that it matters (but it may throw others into this spiral of despair I'm currently going through) the bands in question are CKY, HIM, Trivium, The Blackout Pact, Alexisonfire, Bullet For My Valentine, Placebo, Alkaline Trio etc. 

I had joyously added them to my ipod, perfect for total immersion on public transport. Super! I couldn't wait, it was going to be wonderful and my journeys would be transformed from the dire ones of late. Off I trotted.

I got on the bus. I sat nearish to the back, headphones in, gazing out of the window. I was really enjoying myself. Smiling remembering when a song that doesn't so great to my ears now was back then, the greatest thing I had ever heard and would ever hear.

I remembered I used to listen to a lot of these bands on my bus journey to high school. I put on one of the songs I pretty much listened to on a daily basis as I neared school when I realised this was the same bus journey and I was about to go past my old high school. 

The old trepidation and sickly feelings returned. The anxious habit of playing with my nails returned. 
How strange? I'd left six years ago, vowed never to return and had gone past the place countless times without a second (or first) glance. 

This was the kickstarter.

Six years had passed. 

My plans from that time have largely not came to fruition, not in part because some were mildly ridiculous and many have changed or evolved but it did start me off thinking incessantly about my future. That big old bleak black hole looming in front of me, behind me and over me. 

I concocted a plan. A plan for the future of Carys and mankind.

Come back to Life Notes #9,871 to see if the plan works. 

What's that? Woody Allen? Make plans to make God laugh?  Don't be absurd sproggie, how do you even know about Woody Allen at your tender age? And God? Don't get me started. You've a lot to learn, Sprogmeister go back to Life Note #78. There will be a test on it over breakfast.