Friendly Fire

Pass the analytical knife.

Now you're about to get cut up or get cut down
It's all about the wordplay all about the sound in the tone of my voice
You gotta let me make my choice alone before my food gets cold
Better shut up or get shot down
It s all about the know how, all just a matter of taste
Stop telling me the way I gotta play. Too much food on my plate.
~Jason Mraz, Too Much Food

I've pretty much heard it all now. In the world of ridiculous accusations, I've reached the epitome. Lock it down, ship it out, done deal.

Last night I was told that I was trite and offensive. Well now, offensive, sure, I've heard that before, but never in connection with me offering someone my friendship. Yep. In telling this person that I'm their friend, I offended and became common. The word trite actually was used. Trite. I may be many things, but not that. I am never less than sincere when exposing how I feel. What would be the point?

When I say I'm somoene's friend, it is the same as when I give my love (and really, isn't friendship a version of love?). It is without condition or expectation. It is what it is; this is who I am. (I've done enough soul surgery to know.) I don't ever require that a person declare the same to me, or feel the same toward me. I give both easily. I can't not.
You can say that I'm the one curly fry in the box of the regular
Messing with the flavor, oh the flavor that you savor
~Jason Mraz, Too Much Food

I've always felt different, always felt like I'm somewhat of an outsider in this world. I'm aware that I'm too empathetic and sympathetic for my own good. Again, it's who I am. I've learned to accept that about myself, see it as a privilege even. So being, I've also learned that, in a world filled with hatred, anxiety, and sorrow, I'm a good force of energy. In an autobiographical poem from years ago, I wrote the following about my inner-workings and self-acceptance of such:Babi rises with the sun,
and gives out love like gumdrops
Babi shines bright
Babi's alright
Babi take a bow tonight

So I give love and friendship easily. So what. So I wear my heart on my sleeve. So I don't hold back. So I'm fiercely passionate. So I (try to) recognize the good in people and zero in on it like a murder of crows at the bread factory dumpster. So what. Isn't there enough disrespect, antagonism, and apathy in the world already? I'm thinkin' maybe so.

Does that mean there's no depth in my actions or feelings? Fie. Ridiculous notion. Preposterous. Absurd. It's not about warm fuzzies; it's about being there. My heart is big enough to hold the entire Universe in a spiritual hug, and I'm just the gal to do it. Oh yeah. Try'n stop me. If I ever do stop reaching out, pass the tequila shots around and say a kind word, because I'm already gone to another plane of existence. Spread my ashes someplace pretty and know that you were loved (sincerely) by a word-flingin' gypsy girl.
I ain't the one whose gonna be missing the feast
Just like you ain't the one who seems to be calming the beast
~Jason Mraz, Too Much Food