Some Things Ive Found Blog by Ox Lilo xO
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Ode to the Nice Girls Note: I did NOT write this. This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it. This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend. This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep. This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisfied with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys. This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mind games, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it. So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.
**Dedicated** You and I by Peter Bester I went through life, meandering, wondering... Where life's road is taking me. One day up, the other, down, searching... Knowing not my destiny. All these years you were there; committed... As was I. Firm boundaries in place. Then one day, these fences fell, clattering... Leaving us both free to choose. Now we have choices, yes we do - unlimited... A freedom until now not known. No demands, no expectations; hesitating... Could we meet our separate needs? You are most wonderful by far, more exceptional... Than anyone I've ever met. You give, you love, you share - unique... Could this be it for both of us? You are kind, loving and warm; unselfish... You give so much day by day. And I receive that warmth from you, unending... Will you tell me what you really feel? The days are early - we have time; contemplating... About what's important to us both. If we were meant for one another, forever... Will all be revealed in time to come?
Personally dedicated to someone very special If I knew it would be the last time That I'd see you fall asleep, I would tuck you in more tightly and pray the Lord, your soul to keep. If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door, I would give you a hug and kiss and call you back for one more. If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise, I would video tape each action and word, so I could play them back day after day. If I knew it would be the last time, I could spare an extra minute to stop and say "I love you," instead of assuming you would KNOW I do. If I knew it would be the last time I would be there to share your day, Well I'm sure you'll have so many more, so I can let just this one slip away. For surely there's always tomorrow to make up for an oversight, and we always get a second chance to make everything just right. There will always be another day to say "I love you," And certainly there's another chance to say our "Anything I can do?" But just in case I might be wrong, and today is all I get, I'd like to say how much I love you and I hope we never forget. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike, And today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight. So if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today? For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day, That you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss and you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish. So hold your loved ones close today, and whisper in their ear, Tell them how much you love them and that you'll always hold them dear Take time to say "I'm sorry," "Please forgive me," "Thank you," or "It's okay." And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today.
Personally dedicated to my own mother Sometimes i know the words to say, Give thanks for all you've done, But then they fly up and away, As quickly as they come. How could i possibly thank you enough, The one who makes me whole, The one to whom i owe my life, The forming of my soul. The one who tucked me in at night, The one who stopped my crying, The one who was the expert, At picking up when i was lying. The one who saw me off to school, And spent sad days alone, Yet magically produced a smile, As soon as i came home. The one who makes such sacrifices, To always put me first, Who has me test my broken wings, In spite of how it hurts. Who paints the world a rainbow, When its filled with broken dreams, Who explains it all so clearly, When nothing's what it seems. Are there really any words for this? Anything i want to say just doesn't seem enough. What way is there to thank you, For you heart,your sweat,your tears, For ten thousand little things you've ever done, For oh-so many years. For changing with me as i changed, Accepting all my flaws, Not loving 'cause you had to, But loving "just because." For never giving up on me, When your wits had reached their end, For always being proud of me, For being my best friend. And so i come to realize, The only way to say, The only thank you thats enough, Is clear in just one way. Look at me before you, See what i've become, Do you see yourself in me? The job that you have done? All your hopes and all your dreams, The strength that no one sees, A transfer over many years, Your best was passed to me. Thank you for the gifts you give, For everything you do, But thank you,mom,most of all, For making dreams come true.
Have u ever watched kids on a merry-go-round? or listened to the rain falling on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly's eratic flight? or gazed at the sun into the fading night? You better slow down, Don't dance so fast. Time is short, The music won't last. Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask "how are you?" do you hear the reply? When the day is done do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through ur head? You'd better slow down, don't dance so fast. Time is short, The music won't last. Ever told a child, "we'll do it tomorrow?" And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die Cause you never had time to call and say "hi"? When you run so fast to get somewhere you miss half the fun of getting there when you worry and hurry through your day it's like an unopened gift.. thrown away Life is not a race.. do take it slower Hear the music before the song is over
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