thirteen.

i'm scathing, writhing, fuming, ouching right now. there is something rotten in the state of denmark, and it's your piss poor communication skills. say what you mean, mean what you say, and be accountable for it all. it's not difficult, yet it's a seemingly impossible task for so many of us. how did we get here?

i grew up in a household where what wasn't said was the most deafeningly loud thing in my life. to this day, my father can clear his throat in a certain way and i will break into a cold sweat as my brain races to figure out what i've done wrong. as for my mom and all the martin women, we can hold a grudge and give silent treatment with the comfort level to the targeted victim comparable to that of being waterboarded or having your fingernails slowly pulled off one at a time. if you think this is a gross exaggeration, you are most certainly not one of my uncles nor have you been around any of us when a) we are hungry or b) you fucked up. generally, the accepted school of thought is the: "i'm upset with you, so without a word i'm gonna make damn sure you know i'm upset AND i'm going to require that you not only figure out WHY i'm upset but also HOW to make it better. and lord help you if you think an 'i'm sorry' is going to cut it!"

then there are these kids that i grew up with (living life like it's going outta style). these are there are my friends, this is who they have been for always. they are extraordinary human beings without whom i would not have lasted one single day of my high school years in a suburban town. our hearts tick in beat with one another and more often than not, we talk in complete code and song lyrics (catch the 4 in this paragraph?) where everything said verbally is a stand in for the real conversation. it's more than talking in code, it's an inside joke taken to the umpteenth level: it's an inside language. i often imagine that getting the gist of just a single of our lunchtime conversations would have required subtitles for any outsider- the words passing our lips were very rarely related to the meaning of what was really being said. and the best part? we all understood.

but, alas, language exists because the majority of the world can't interpret the intimate jargon of a select group of dear friends or easily figure out precisely why my aunties and cousins are giving that deathstare. i wouldn't have made it very far with this majority (and thus wouldn't have made it very far in this world) because i had grown up miscommunicating. and i didn't have any idea. until i met travis.

i owe all, yes all, my healthy, present day communication skills to travis. he and i, by pure happenstance, fell effortlessly and instantly into being the most inseparable, best of friends. to this day, i am never ceased to be amazed by the realness, depth, and genuineness of our conversations. i started college with a very false, yet very settled security in how i interacted with others, and i will never forget that after "opening up" about myself in one of our first (of many) dinner discussions, travis so eloquently called complete bullshit on everything i had just said. "you have a huge wall built around you," he told me, and he was right "so can you just tell me what you're really trying to say?". that was one one of the most "naked" moments of my entire life. all the bad habits i had accumulated to manipulate the world around me and to hide my fallibility would have to go. it took time. it's still a conscious effort. but i've found that making the effort to say what actually needs to be expressed is one of the most rewarding, healthy, uncomplicating things i could ever do for my life.

i believe in honesty. i believe in putting myself out there, despite how vulnerable it makes me to know there is no guarantee what i am trying to convey will be received well, properly, or even at all. and trust me, on days like today when boldly saying what i needed to say causes a shitstorm more strife than had i just kept my big mouth shut, it's really hard to not lay those old bricks and start reconstructing that wall. you see, whoever said "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" was a big fat fibber and i'd go as far to say was questionably human.

sometimes, words. do. hurt. and that's ok, because today i learned that they can un-hurt too. a lousy, loathsome misplaced sentiment can bore its way deep under your skin, making you "scathe, writhe, fume, ouch", and then a gleaming glimmer of honesty and truth can swoop in and rescue you.

communication is king. it is "a lonely world when that's deficient/missing". but going to bed with knowledge that between me and those i love most it will never be a lonely world, especially not tonight, is pretty damn awesome.