i don’t cry, i fly

I Don’t Cry, I Fly

Not that I’m an insensitive uber bitch…

N called crying out her eyes. She was worrying over things that had yet to transpire and there was an obvious path to take to smooth out the bumpy ride. It took a while to get a word into her head. She kept crying at that high whiny place that’s up there with

hysterically upset.

She really wanted someone to save her. Someone to offer to take care of all her problems so that she can take a backseat and not have to be responsible. Life was unfair that things had fallen on her lap and she wanted someone to take her problems on their own lap.

What did I do?

I gave her a good talking to… (nicely) and told her that she was a couple of responsible conversations away from making things work for her. She was so out of sorts that she couldn’t think straight. She also got herself in a bit of a pickle, telling her parents a major fib that’s finally caught up with her.

I have my trying times but never to a point where I can’t think straight… maybe a little wavy… but never to a point where life is desperate (when it’s really not).

I ran several circles in my mind this past week. A couple of unexpected expenses came up that I had to seriously reconsider my situation of insisting in living alone. I can afford to pay rent and living expenses as well as save. But the past emergencies compromised my routine to save and told me that I really didn’t have much buffer space.

How to raise  X amount to cover expenses, put X into savings and plan strategy of living stable and thriving? I suppose I could’ve gone into OMIGOD mode and ranted, cried and lamented the “unfairness” of life. I analyzed the yoyos of life that I ride and got that I’ve managed to stay afloat and ride my yoyo with a little more grace with practice.

I think I’ve lived through enough drama already that I just stare at situations and think… hmmm… how do I get myself out of this pickle? To say the least, I came up with a win-win solution and it took less than 6 hours and 2 emails…

Sometimes I wish I knew how to cry. I wonder what it would be like to have someone save me. Perhaps, I want a more romantic “saving” … someone to come into my life and “save me” in such a way that is more magical and unexpected than desperate.

My brother once told me that he thought that the butterfly was the perfect symbol for me, representing independence, transformation – being carefree and unattached.

I don’t cry. I fly.



~ by jnetsworld on February 27, 2007.


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