Princess Peach #1

Drama.

Everyone says that they're "so over the drama" and they've "left that high school crap behind." Let me be one of the first to say... Bullshit. And particularly relevant bullshit, considering that I'm writing to an audience that's at least partly composed of debaters. (In an attempt to stay on topic, I'll avoid a diatribe about debaters and their ferocious ardor for drama--almost redundant, isn't it?)

So anyway. Drama. I guess that as we age and mature our desire for histrionics is supposed to fade. We're supposed to accept that our lives are relatively mundane, and that's just the grown-up way. Anyone living with me (especially someone who purports to be in love with me) will have to get used to the fact that I haven't outgrown it. Life isn't supposed to be cold oatmeal, it's supposed to have spice and aggravation! I don't like the idea of sailing forever on a placid sea--how are you supposed to try yourself (not to mention your mate) if things are always on an even keel? I want thunderstorms to break up the monotony, even a monsoon once in a while to keep me on my toes.

I exaggerate and I talk with my hands and I raise my voice. I'm not quiet or meek or submissive. I love to tell stories and add my own panache, consequences be damned. I don't see the point of an untested existence. I don't want to just assume that things are as good as they can be. Granted, I fuck up often. BUT, there are times when my fuck ups lead to better circumstances than I could have imagined. Someone very wise once said that unless you're willing to till the soil every now and again, you'll never know what kind of shit makes your flowers grow. Me, I'm a tiller. Don't get me wrong, I also think it's critical to give your flowers time to grow, and to give yourself time to enjoy them. I just think it's also critical to toss things up a bit and see what plants (okay, people) are really made of.

So there you go. I like the drama. I'm passionate, maybe it's my Irish nature. Either way, anyone who loves me will learn to handle it and fire it right back, or they'll be uprooted like last week's petunias. Okay, the last plant metaphor was too much.

Later--
Princess