i wish i was brave enough...

Dearest Lola fans,
Please accept my sincerest apologies on having taken so long to write. My career and my driving need to be on a stage every so often have precluded much of my free time. The rest is often spent trying to recover from all that, leaving me unwilling/unable/unmotivated to write. It's not that I have nothing to say--I do. I have much I wish to leave here on this page. So much *stuff* inside that I wish I could allow to fly from the tips of my fingers, out of my psyche and onto this blog.

Which brings me to the point of this post. I wish I was brave. I wish I had the proverbial balls to REALLY say what I need to say. To put something on here so honestly brutally outrageous that it makes the rest of you nod your heads, saying, "Yes! Why didn't someone say this before now?!" But I can't. Because so much of what I want to say, what I need to say, affects people near and dear to me. It would be harder in some ways for me to say something honest here, because it's so public, specifically when that honesty will likely hurt someone I love.

The stories I tell you on here, when they affect other people, well, I turn those people into characters. The boys you read about on here, well, they're not exactly figments of my imagination but I wouldn't call them real, either. They're in that lovely grey area somewhere in the middle. The experiences I have and the feelings I write about are absolutely real...most of the time. Generally, I try to let you know when I'm posting pure fiction.

I started this blog so I could write about things like this. So I could share chapters of the book I'm sure I'll never write. So I could entertain you. So I could have some peace of mind by emotionally vomiting all over my keyboard. But the really true things...the really honest, really real, really painful things, I just can't get out. I don't want you to think less of me. I don't want people I care about to be caught in the middle. I don't want you to think less of them.

When I created this, I wondered if I shouldn't tell anyone it was mine, but instead, somehow just post the link or share it and ask people to read it and see what they think. But I knew that those who know me best and who read my blog on the deserted carnival that is MySpace would recognize it as mine immediately. So I figured, why bother? And I knew that at some point, we would get to this. That I would need to post questions for which there are no answers. That I would want to say something divisive and awful about someone close to me, and I refuse to do that. It's not fair to those people--they didn't sign up for this. Ya'll know I have zero problem posting my opinions on other issues that are traditionally verboten, like religion and politics, and that's different. I can be brutally honest about how I feel because, while certain readers may object or won't like or agree with what I have to say, it doesn't hurt them personally.

So somehow, I have to figure out how to deal with these ugly feelings I'm having. I have friends I can talk to, sure, and they offer advice and suggestions and that's great, but at the same time, they can't fix it for me. Nor do I want them to. I have to get around this myself. Being as painfully self-aware as I am, I completely understand my motives and failings and where they come from, but this rarely saves me from...well, much of anything, frankly.

Moving on to a much happier note, I have a new fake boyfriend! I met him a few months ago via a mutual friend. I asked him officially yesterday after some very salacious flirtation via the interwebs. His nickname is Laundry. Why? Because for one, I had a VERY naughty dream involving the two of us in a laundry room. Also, because, you know, I'm just sittin' around here, doing my Laundry. Just something I gotta do when the need builds up, know what I mean? I asked, he approved, and here we are. Flirting is so much fun. I think I would go batshit crazy without that outlet.

I know, I know--get down to the nitty gritty, Lola! Right? Yes, he's adorable, of course. Sexy in a sort of nerdy rock-n-roll kind of way, if that makes any sense. Tousled light brown hair. Tall & a bit lanky. Tattoos (in fact, we have tattoos with something in common). But more importantly, he's fucking smart. And witty as hell. He can actually not just keep up with me verbally but his innuendo often tops even mine. That, my friends, is fucking sexy. It makes me hate him in that really really delicious way.

Have I said too much? Probably. Isn't that why ya'll keep coming back?
With Love,
Lola