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Female Friendships
Mar. 22nd, 2013 09:10 amHung out with Deborah aka the Crazy Israeli neighbor last night, watching Israeli TV coverage of Obama's trip, discussing our respective lives and progeny, and drinking this really lethal concoction composed of vodka and Bailey's Irish Cream.
Deborah is really pretty smart and less nutty the more time I spend around her. I think her nuttiness is loneliness – she has a really intense personality and she has spent the last six years more-or-less alone in a house that's basically a mausoleum to the Dead Husband, so when she's around other people, she turns into a psychic internal combustion engine – all that energy and no where to drive. The solution is to spend more time around other people, of course. But I think that explosiveness puts people off.
It only puts me off when I'm feeling peevish for other reasons. However acerbic I am in my public private diary, in real life I'm tolerant. I don't use myself as any kind of norm of behavior, and I actually have considerable social skills.
Also – and this is something that's been going on my entire life – I see auras around people. They're not the rainbow colors that psychics purport to see that tell whether someone is healthy or has cancer of the kidneys or is planning to murder their husband tonight. They're auras that indicate some kind of connection with me.
And I saw one around Deborah the very first time I met her. I was raking leaves in the front garden. Deborah was doing one of her militant walkabouts of the suburban enclave. She stopped to chat, and I knew instantly that we had a psychic connection. That we had been minor and major characters in each others' nested tales within tales within tales for a very long time. If we'd never developed a friendship, it would have been a cameo appearance. But we did develop a friendship.
Anyway, it's a gift, as is my other developing friendship with Phyllis with whom I spent the jolliest time imaginable Monday, traipsing around to various thrift stores, chatting up a storm. I have really missed having close female friends.
Deborah is really pretty smart and less nutty the more time I spend around her. I think her nuttiness is loneliness – she has a really intense personality and she has spent the last six years more-or-less alone in a house that's basically a mausoleum to the Dead Husband, so when she's around other people, she turns into a psychic internal combustion engine – all that energy and no where to drive. The solution is to spend more time around other people, of course. But I think that explosiveness puts people off.
It only puts me off when I'm feeling peevish for other reasons. However acerbic I am in my public private diary, in real life I'm tolerant. I don't use myself as any kind of norm of behavior, and I actually have considerable social skills.
Also – and this is something that's been going on my entire life – I see auras around people. They're not the rainbow colors that psychics purport to see that tell whether someone is healthy or has cancer of the kidneys or is planning to murder their husband tonight. They're auras that indicate some kind of connection with me.
And I saw one around Deborah the very first time I met her. I was raking leaves in the front garden. Deborah was doing one of her militant walkabouts of the suburban enclave. She stopped to chat, and I knew instantly that we had a psychic connection. That we had been minor and major characters in each others' nested tales within tales within tales for a very long time. If we'd never developed a friendship, it would have been a cameo appearance. But we did develop a friendship.
Anyway, it's a gift, as is my other developing friendship with Phyllis with whom I spent the jolliest time imaginable Monday, traipsing around to various thrift stores, chatting up a storm. I have really missed having close female friends.
