sexcivaughn14
welcome home
Title: Perfect Strangers
Author: Carolyn (me)
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Thanks: To my beta's, my ladies, Janet, Ash, Katy, Cathy, Ames.
thanks to Janet for the WP
Chapter 1
Cynical, sarcastic, bitter. Three words, all insults that are thrown around constantly: if you don’t know what to say, why not say “Hey, at least I’m not a sarcastic, cynical old man!” But think about it, are these really horrible things to be? I’m not going to tell you that they are the greatest things to be, but really, are they all that bad?
Why pretend something is perfect when it’s not, why do things always have to seem picturesque, when quite frankly, s*** happens! If you break up with your boyfriend, girlfriend, significant other, why does being politically correct mean you have to say “Oh yeah, everything is fine”. Um…hello, you were JUST DUMPED! Things generally aren’t fine after that.
When I was twelve years old, it was a rainy day, and my mom was just standing at the window, watching it pour down, and her exact words were “Well this is a wonderful day isn’t it?” she was being sarcastic, it would have taken a moron to figure that much out. But really, does that make her a bad person?
In today’s society, all of the attributes are considered “bad”. How many times have you heard someone say “Sarcasm is the lowest form of humour”? What is so bad about sarcasm? I mean, it gets a point across far better than a mindless knock-knock joke, is it not?
Before I moved out of my parents house, in with my then boyfriend, I had this theory, I had this crazy idea that living with this person whom usually I spent a few hours with a day was going to be like a huge fairytale, what did I actually learn? I didn’t know jack all about the guy! I didn’t know that men were apparently incapable of putting the seat down, or that when he said “I’ll be home around 1”, he really meant “I probably won’t be home tonight”. The fairytale romance that I had created in my head with my best girlfriends didn’t really exist, and it broke my heart, I was bitter, I was so amazingly bitter at the world for the longest time, and I had everyone, my mother, my friends, my dad, they were all harping at me to get over it “There’s no sense hating the world Sydney!”. That’s exactly what they told me. But you know what, there was complete sense in hating the world. We create a depiction in our minds, a picture of roses, flowers, candles, candy, all of the things you read about in books, all of the things you see in movies, and you assume, you so wrongly assume that you will have that when you meet the guy who appears to be the man of your dreams, but really, he’s not. The Hollywood romance doesn’t exist, all those Danielle Steele books that you saw your mom and grandma reading when you were a teenager, it’s all felgercarb!
Now, all of you at home, reading this are sitting there saying “This is a girl who is ugly, doesn’t leave the house, has no friends, lives for work and hates life”, but I’m not. I’m not ugly, I have friends, I have a job that shockingly enough, I don’t hate life, I love life. But why put this happy go lucky spin on it if, surprise- surprise, life isn’t perfect. I mean, you tell a toddler that, you say “Sweetheart, you don’t always get what you want” but really, the adult is the one who needs this life lesson. How many people go home from work after having a s***ty day saying “Life sucks! I hate my job! I deserved that more than Franky did!”, well, newsflash, you are doing exactly what you think you’re five year old should stop doing.
Having a bad day, being upset, hating the world, being bitter, sarcastic, cynical, it’s not a bad thing! Everyone does it, so why don’t we just stop being hypocritical about it all, next time you’re husband says something completely ridiculous, something sarcastic about the crappy ass meal you made for him, why don’t you just come back with something equally witty, instead of a “Well that was ridiculous, sarcasm really isn’t attractive on anyone”. Put the jackass in his place, don’t scold him like his mother would.
And see, you guys all thought I hated the world?
Oh yeah…I haven’t had a boyfriend since that ass-wad…that doesn’t mean anything, does it?
Sydney Bristow quickly saved the word document and closed her laptop, shoving it in her bag and grabbing her travel mug full of coffee, time for another 40 minute commute on the wonderful city of New York’s transportation systems, oh the subway.
Sydney picked up her keys and her cell phone, walking out the door and locking it behind her, she walked the three blocks to the subway station and quickly ran down, hopping aboard amongst the other hundred thousand people who were in a hurry to get to work that Monday morning after a long weekend, likely of binge drinking and partying, but hey. That was what life is about in the big city.
Sydney shuffled through the people and took a seat at the back of the train, leaning her head back against the window as the train began to move, and another day of her so called life began.
A day where her boss would yell at her for having been late, but then read her article, say it was “mediocre” and print it, it would go in the Times, like it always did and there would be huge reader response to this girl who seemed to hate the world and always have a huge dilemma, but her story would sell.
See, it wasn’t always bad to be Sydney Bristow.
Author: Carolyn (me)
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Thanks: To my beta's, my ladies, Janet, Ash, Katy, Cathy, Ames.
thanks to Janet for the WP
Chapter 1
Cynical, sarcastic, bitter. Three words, all insults that are thrown around constantly: if you don’t know what to say, why not say “Hey, at least I’m not a sarcastic, cynical old man!” But think about it, are these really horrible things to be? I’m not going to tell you that they are the greatest things to be, but really, are they all that bad?
Why pretend something is perfect when it’s not, why do things always have to seem picturesque, when quite frankly, s*** happens! If you break up with your boyfriend, girlfriend, significant other, why does being politically correct mean you have to say “Oh yeah, everything is fine”. Um…hello, you were JUST DUMPED! Things generally aren’t fine after that.
When I was twelve years old, it was a rainy day, and my mom was just standing at the window, watching it pour down, and her exact words were “Well this is a wonderful day isn’t it?” she was being sarcastic, it would have taken a moron to figure that much out. But really, does that make her a bad person?
In today’s society, all of the attributes are considered “bad”. How many times have you heard someone say “Sarcasm is the lowest form of humour”? What is so bad about sarcasm? I mean, it gets a point across far better than a mindless knock-knock joke, is it not?
Before I moved out of my parents house, in with my then boyfriend, I had this theory, I had this crazy idea that living with this person whom usually I spent a few hours with a day was going to be like a huge fairytale, what did I actually learn? I didn’t know jack all about the guy! I didn’t know that men were apparently incapable of putting the seat down, or that when he said “I’ll be home around 1”, he really meant “I probably won’t be home tonight”. The fairytale romance that I had created in my head with my best girlfriends didn’t really exist, and it broke my heart, I was bitter, I was so amazingly bitter at the world for the longest time, and I had everyone, my mother, my friends, my dad, they were all harping at me to get over it “There’s no sense hating the world Sydney!”. That’s exactly what they told me. But you know what, there was complete sense in hating the world. We create a depiction in our minds, a picture of roses, flowers, candles, candy, all of the things you read about in books, all of the things you see in movies, and you assume, you so wrongly assume that you will have that when you meet the guy who appears to be the man of your dreams, but really, he’s not. The Hollywood romance doesn’t exist, all those Danielle Steele books that you saw your mom and grandma reading when you were a teenager, it’s all felgercarb!
Now, all of you at home, reading this are sitting there saying “This is a girl who is ugly, doesn’t leave the house, has no friends, lives for work and hates life”, but I’m not. I’m not ugly, I have friends, I have a job that shockingly enough, I don’t hate life, I love life. But why put this happy go lucky spin on it if, surprise- surprise, life isn’t perfect. I mean, you tell a toddler that, you say “Sweetheart, you don’t always get what you want” but really, the adult is the one who needs this life lesson. How many people go home from work after having a s***ty day saying “Life sucks! I hate my job! I deserved that more than Franky did!”, well, newsflash, you are doing exactly what you think you’re five year old should stop doing.
Having a bad day, being upset, hating the world, being bitter, sarcastic, cynical, it’s not a bad thing! Everyone does it, so why don’t we just stop being hypocritical about it all, next time you’re husband says something completely ridiculous, something sarcastic about the crappy ass meal you made for him, why don’t you just come back with something equally witty, instead of a “Well that was ridiculous, sarcasm really isn’t attractive on anyone”. Put the jackass in his place, don’t scold him like his mother would.
And see, you guys all thought I hated the world?
Oh yeah…I haven’t had a boyfriend since that ass-wad…that doesn’t mean anything, does it?
Sydney Bristow quickly saved the word document and closed her laptop, shoving it in her bag and grabbing her travel mug full of coffee, time for another 40 minute commute on the wonderful city of New York’s transportation systems, oh the subway.
Sydney picked up her keys and her cell phone, walking out the door and locking it behind her, she walked the three blocks to the subway station and quickly ran down, hopping aboard amongst the other hundred thousand people who were in a hurry to get to work that Monday morning after a long weekend, likely of binge drinking and partying, but hey. That was what life is about in the big city.
Sydney shuffled through the people and took a seat at the back of the train, leaning her head back against the window as the train began to move, and another day of her so called life began.
A day where her boss would yell at her for having been late, but then read her article, say it was “mediocre” and print it, it would go in the Times, like it always did and there would be huge reader response to this girl who seemed to hate the world and always have a huge dilemma, but her story would sell.
See, it wasn’t always bad to be Sydney Bristow.
I lurve it!
You know I'm always in on new stories. :lol: Add me to the pm list as always! ^_^
