That Afternoon

It was a warm April afternoon. Downtown on the river was a wine walk. I was wearing a white long sleeve shirt with a brown plaid vest. It was ridiculously hot outside for this outfit choice, but I love the way it looked. I was with some friends and my new roommate. With the roommate, was his flamboyantly gay friend Austin. A "Queen Bee" unquestioned, he told me I looked stunning. I told him that I agreed. Walking the wine walk we stop and get our picture taken by the local newspaper, sadly I am underage, but find this humorous.
I ran into my personal trainer with a good girlfriend of mine and I reassure him that it is only grape juice we have been drinking. Shortly after that your friend called me, asking what I was up to, prior to this your friend and I had gone on a casual date and were still feeling out the waters so to speak. I was not interested in going further, but he was nice enough to invite out and see what the friends thought of him.
About an hour later he arrived, with you. You were wearing jeans and a navy blue T shirt and blacks vans. Honestly I did not think much of it when you first got there. We were introduced and we bought a round. We sat at the bar with the group we were with and watched one of my friends dance around intoxicated stealing hats off on peoples heads. You had a wonderful sense of humor. I began to take small interest. Your friend was there and charming and witty as usual. But there was something about you. We talked about your past and common topics but I really enjoyed the small exchange.
Then we decided to go back to your house with your friend. I said goodbye to my friends and we walked to your car. We stopped and got tacos and started dancing in the parking lot. Once we got to the car you drove, your friend got in the drivers passenger's seat and I took the backseat. We were all quite for the ride home, but I would catch your eyes in the review mirror. You have light eyes for such dark hair. I knew exactly what you were saying. Don't worry. I understood. You're a good man. I must have known this.
Your house was typical. Not in a bad way though. The dogs came out, so sweet. Especially the black one. We chatted with everyone but I couldn't help but forget there were other people involved in the conversation. I can't remember how long we stayed, but I left after what felt like only seconds and a lifetime all at the same time. I drove with your friend to go home. And we left it at "nice to meet you."
That afternoon is burned into my cerebellum. The way the conversation flowed and the common history. Your friend brought me to meet someone like you, and on that note alone he will forever be a good acquaintance. You were a wonderful side street I had never seen,in a city I grew up in. It was refreshing getting lost for a minute. For that I thank you, thank you for the wonderful afternoon.

I saw you recently and you have a adorable girlfriend now, whose dimples and warm smile could brighten any ones day. I hope you two are wonderful. And have many days as good as the small encounter we shared.

Always Remember...

To much ego will kill your talent.

A Small Moment

July 22, 1999.
My father turned thirty years old. He was coming back from a business trip and my mother had planned a surprise party for him. My mother was twenty six and stunning. Like most women of the nineties she found herself a fan of the Jimmy Buffet/Tommy Bahama islander look. She had long blond hair and tan skin. She worn a thin white tunic with some blue jeans. She has never been the type to wear a lot of make up so her skin was lightened with a little powder and plumb colored blush. Light blue eyes brighten her face and she scurries around the house making sure everyone is in their place.
The car pulls up. We hear my Grandpa and Dad coming around the back. You hear my Grandpa bitching about the garage door being jammed and they have to go through the backyard door. They come around the corner and we all shout the classic "SURPRISE".
My father the strongest, bravest, gladiator of a man I know is moved to tears as his family and friends congratulate him on the accomplishment. Knowing more about my father's history it is a accomplishment he made it all the way to thirty. His eyes scan the yard for my mother who waits until he has said the "hi, how are yous" and "thanks for coming out's". Then he hugs her and looks at her lovingly knowing that she gets stressed when putting these things together. I am sitting on my aunt's lap and get up quickly to say hi. My hair naturally a golden blond and unlike my mothers my eye's are dark and stubborn. I greet my father with Happy Birthday. He picks me up and kisses me and looks around for my younger sisters. We all sit outside for the rest of the evening until it get's dark and people start to fade away.
I remember being a little girl afraid for evenings like these to end. Afraid that moments like those would never happen again. I'm still afraid of that as a adult woman. The only difference now is I am no longer naturally blond.

It's Time

"The only thing to fear is fear it's self."

So very true. Life is what we make of it. We are our own puppet masters, nothing can really get under our skin unless we let it. There does come a time when holding grudges and hate in ourselves because less satisfying and more of a burden. When you have forgotten why you hate in fact maybe it is time to let go. Offer up your olive branch and if not excepted with open arms leave it on the doorstep maybe the birds will pick at it. There comes a time to stand tall and for what you believe is right and then comes the time to sit down and listen to the others side of the same tale. I'm not saying that all is well in the world, but maybe today all can be well in your world. Things are never as they seem, the good or the bad." Winning and losing aren't all that different, its just the way the outside world views you."

So did I win or did I lose. I guess that is all in how you look at things. Honestly this morning around 10:00 a.m. I would have told you I failed. Today around 3:30 p.m. I could look at you and tell you I was proud of myself for being able to put away the stubborn part of myself and fall back on my new found peace.

Let's Have An Honesty Fight

My full name is Alisha Marie Perry. I'm twenty but will give a different age every time I am asked. I hate mushrooms. I have one best friend in this world. I fall for nerds. I like an up their on ass kind of guy, simply because they aren't and think they are. I hate the Twilight Saga, simply because true love seems to have teams now. I would disqualify them both. I love stand-up comedy. I love improv. I lie for no reason. I can not be left. When having a conversation I am most likely thinking about what an idiot you are. Though I pride myself on being sincere. I have a female crush on Victoria Beckham. I see the world a little differently. I have/have had a strange obsession with serial killers. For a loyal person I have a knack for keeping my options open. There is one man alive who loves me for everything I am, and I can not love him back. I still love the one who hurt me the most.I know when I'm being manipulative. And wont stop. I am a better person then I was before.

The Truth

I'm twenty years old and feel like I'm thirty two. I love blonde hair. I hate mushrooms. I feel like a bad friend fifty percent of the time. I have trouble with empathy. I am vain. I think that I am better then average. I think everyone is average. I never think about the guy that would have loved me forever. I miss the guy that broke my heart. I am jealous.

Ha. The Original-Let's Have an Honestly Fight.
Funny how we dress things up even for those we don't know.
This is the naked version.

Girl's Night Out

Girls night out is typically supposed to be group of women who decide it's time to let loose and I think that phrase implies that they don't do this often, that's obviously open to interpretation, but none the less what I personally get from the statement. However being a woman and experiencing these nights out first hand, think they deserve a more appropriate title such as... "Girls Who Are Bored and Single Looking For Free Drinks and a Regrettable Morning After Night" or maybe "Girls Who Are Over Their Current Relationship and Just Want To See What Else There Is Out There But Can Blame It On The Alcohol Night". These are just a couple of the ideas that pop into my head as I sit on my porch on a Saturday night. I am a single woman in a party town. These nights are exactly what I have described. I'm guilty of it as are we all, but the question of the hour is am I different or are we all lying to ourselves? Are you really happy with the person your with? If you are why do we insist on nights titled "Fuck Off I Want To Get Drunk Without You Around Night". I can not understand this. I am thinking about close friends and people I don't care about a like. I watch from a distance relationships that work and the ones that are obviously situations that stem from habit. There is no shame in those either. We are creatures of our environment, mom and dad, step dad and mom, whatever our circumstance growing up was we have been taught to co-habitat. But the problem in our generation is we are also taught that we are independent beings. Clearly this causes some conflict within ourselves. How does one co habitat independently? And as women this is even a double standard. Go out there and have fun find yourself. But do it without acting like a whore. Simple, I think not. Not that acting like a hooker is not easy avoided, but in efforts to find what your comfortable vs stocked about is tough using mom's rules. Especially having to watch men next to you doing the same thing and not being put on blast for it. Hence forth women are forced to use " girls night" as some sort of temporary experimentation trail and when things get out of hand we run back to our normal lives of over analogizing every word that is said to us by men and masturbating in the morning when he has left for work. Maybe I am alone in this fight of trying to figure out the woman I supposed to be
or maybe just maybe I am amongst women who are struggling to. Using these nights as target practice so to speak.
More and more frequently I am hearing women described as liars. This could very well be true. But who are we all lying to?