When a lovely and talented friend posted on Facebook this:
I let nostalgia hug me for a sec. It was a really grounding hug.
I haven't seen these amazing ladies in YEARS. Like since teenage years! Half a life ago. And still, we think about each other. Our past is so woven in to our present and future. It's part of the fabric of who we are and where we want to be. I want to be singing with these friends of mine again. I really want that. In my future. The sisterhood of music is a feeling you don't really move beyond. It has only come in waves in my life, relegated mostly to the high school years, singing all over the place. Annoying the hallways. Dorkifying the town. Belting out the National Anthem inside the racquetball courts at HSU.
|jackie where is your red bow tie???|
The estrogen-pumped vibrations between us women is such a gift. I KNOW!!! I'm geeking out on this at the moment so just bear with me.
I don't like every woman on earth. Lord knows some bug the shit out of me. (you're lying if you say that's not true for you, too. lying.) But I respect you. Most of you.
And to my sisters, those who've been my sister by blood, those who've been my sister by music, those who've been my sister by art or words or costume or hardship, those who've been my sister from nothing more than the delicate thread of the social media spiderweb, it is a comfort and an inspiration to be connected to you.
I don't like Bradley Cooper. He looks like earwax. But if you asked me to watch Hangover 7 with you because you love him so, I would. I don't really know who that chick is that you're talking about that's on Jersey Shore or some such shit I've never seen. But I'll listen to you talk about her for a few minutes. I'll shower and put on deodorant (usually) when we see each other. Cause you'd do the same for me. In fact, I probably try harder to look cute for YOU than I do for anyone else. Cause really, doesn't everyone want to feel like they have cute friends? It's not shallow. It's that we want our girlfriends to feel great about themselves. Because low self-esteem sucks and it's hard to be around. And happy people beget other happy people. But of course, if you feel like an ass stuffed in a sausage casing, then by all means, keep the crusties in your eyes and the deodorant well out of reach, and I'll be over soon in my paint-spattered yoga pants with poppy seeds stuck in my teeth and wine in my hand.
Women give this planet so much color and creativity, flair and flowers, soft fluffy things and-sharp as shit claws. Also our we can grow a temporary organ and push babies through our vaginas. Chest bump, sister. We do incredible stuff.