What do you say to taking chances?

I spent yesterday at Baker's. We watched Buffy with his little sister and I stuffed my face with cookies. It sounds mediocre but it was actually really great, something I never get the chance to do with him (and his sister, I guess). I hug him and I feel whole; a way I always promised never to feel because of another person. My happiness is not dependent on anyone else, I said, but this is the good kind of dependent happiness. He's just comfortable and I forget how much until I get to spend some time with him again and then everything just feels better. It helps to know he's the epitome of wonderful, someone who would never take advantage of the way I rely on him. He's just my very favourite boy, I guess.

So researching this Europe/North America/wherever trip is both heartening and terrifying. So it turns out I have no money but apparently this need not be an issue (yet). I'm awfully curious as to how my plans are going to pan out. For the time being, I should probably just enjoy my Baker hugs.

There's no Snoopy dance but...

I guess that I'm making up for the last few weeks by posting every day. The subject of today's blog: my best friend in the whole wide world. She's coming over in a couple of hours so I started cleaning my room in preparation (I know, right; she's a lucky girl) and found some stuff. You know the kind. Nostalgia inducing, bittersweet memory stuff. I have a best friend who has bought me gifts all over the world, that I carried around with me until it became obscene. A keyring pen from Germany I used until I'd rubbed off the decoration on the outside. Another keyring from Seattle, as well as a pen (just to keep the theme) that lit up when you wrote with it. Evidently the only thing I've tidied thus far is my desk. I'm sure I'll rediscover more gifts shortly when I move onto my bookshelf. I remember how much I missed Kat when she went overseas when we were twelve. I spent over a month waiting for postcards and trying to fill my days. I should have known then that, at twelve years old, I'd found the best best friend in the world.

Kat and I were destined to at least be acquaintances far earlier than we actually met. We were both friends with a boy living around the corner from me, along with her twin and another girl, Lucy, and as soon as we all got the acceptance letter from our high school it was decided we would all be great chums. I'd like to say we had a lot to say to each other the first day we met but the truth is it wasn't that memorable. The four of us caught the train together in the morning, awkward little pre-pubescents in oversized uniforms, and one day something clicked. Kat and I had the same orthodontic equipment fixing our teeth and from the crazy random happenstance that helped us figure this out we suddenly had plenty to talk about.

Dinners, trips to markets and swimming pools, movie nights followed. Impromptu study sessions on the train (I holding the cue cards, Kat guessing the answers) led to gossip sessions and so on. Our mothers met and became close friends. Kat became a beautiful young woman far too cool to hang out with a nerdy misfit like myself. It didn't stop her from doing so, though. By the time we graduated high school we'd been through boyfriends (hers) and breakdowns (mine)and were completely different people to when we started. The only thing that still made sense from the time we were twelve was that we were friends.

Kat, fittingly, got a job at a swanky department store and six months later is already being promoted to supervisor. Her gorgeousness, intense work ethic and sunny nature ensured she could succeed wherever she chose to be. In between sleeping through lectures and having no life, I see Kat. Sometimes she's the only friend I see outside of University and work for a month. Somehow that feels okay.

The best friend is leaving me again soon, albeit briefly, to go overseas for about a month. I'm starting to feel twelve again. I wonder what I'll do for fun while she's gone...