We only get judged by what we do...

Well, fortunately, I'm not going to judge some of my friends on what they do, 'cause they mostly and miserably fail. I guess this is not a socially correct way of putting things, but hey, this is the way it is. I guess we can throw most people into the same basket labeled "way out", and cut the crap out of our facebook lists. True, I've got myself over 300 buddies on facebook, but for a Whooper, I should consider throwing many of them out. It's like firing them. We should have such a thing as to "fire friends". Something like a quick notice: you're defriended, you ass, and you should do so face to face, not book to book.

The days back in highschool

I've got a new friend. And she used to be a cheerleader. Now, we had no such thing in France: no football or basketball teams, and, unfortunately, no cheerleaders. I know this sounds terribly trivial - I might actually sound like a moron - that a 27 year old guy is all fascinated by the whole thing about hers being a cheerleader, but I can't do anything about it (and, as you'd guess, I don't fuckin' care what my fellow readers might think)...

Anyway, so she used to be a cheerleader. And everytime I see her, I can't do anything about it but imagine her in a tight red and gold outfit with pompoms and all and stretching her leg way up there and doing all the things cheerleaders do. Now, she's not only pretty (although that's very obviously what this is all about), but she'd kick your butt anytime, too. ANYWAY, the whole cheerleader thing is just insane!

In high school, we had pretty girls in little girly gangs that were hot and all (and they would RULE and all), but by no means did they had any tacit recognition as being THE crowd. From the little I know about American education, there's pretty much such a thing as THE crowd. So, when cheerleaders are in, then I'd guess that the pinnacle- the paroxysm, to use a fancy word - would be to date one. I was fortunate to date a really social girl back in '98 - but she didn't have the damn pompoms. Now I feel my education to be incomplete just because of that...

This makes me thing of Jennifer, which was THE girl back in HS. Legends were circulating on her account, and if we'd transpose our French highschool into an American version of it, I'd be pretty damn sure she would be the head-cheerleader (if such a thing exists). And all the guys would (and did) want to date her. I was looking her all the time way then in math class and imagining the wildest stuff - but hey, she was way up there, and as Wheatus would put it, I wouldn't have dared to ask her out for a Iron Maiden concert. After the Josephine disaster (see previous post, feb. 13), this is the second time that my fomer cowardly attitude led to a scandalous regret...

The friendship zone - How much myth?

How dangerous or treacherous is it really, the legend of the so-called "friendship zone". Is a thing called "love" lost, whenever you got too close to a person. Or can this very friendship blossom into nothing less than, well, a big red heart on a bed of roses.

Maybe I am using an overdose of bad-old-clichés, but, let's be candid, this is a recurring question all of us have been pondering for years. How to get through to a person - and discover whatever might be beneath layers and layers of social customs - if not become good and close friends. But then, if you hit upon something you really like, is there still time to pull back your friendship card and to court the one? Because she probably has become the only one, and no other distraction, no matter how attractive, can be any good substitute.

I use a lot of maybe's and other metaphers - but all I mean to say is: God damn it, would I have known before that she seems to be the one - I'd never, ever, would have played the friendship game. There's nothing like good old courting - but I guess it's too late, and now I have to use the subtle path of gauging how much I can or should put a friendship at risk to conquer her.

For now, there's absolutely no way I will go down another path, for I'm lacking courage to do so. The friendship seems to be too valuable - and I'm nothing less than lightyears away of a good "hey, how you doin', babe".

Why have a heart when a heart can be broken?

Josephine... Long, waivy dark hair, light blue eyes, blood red lips, and a shy smile that would make any one man loose his confidence. And I did have none whenever I crossed her path back then, in the good old days in high school.

Josephine, her very name still inspires the most compromising feelings. My first big love. An artist, a true one, with soul and body. And a body, she had one that would make me daydream whenever I would sit in a chemistry or math class, longing for her soft white skin. Okay, I'm getting dangerously off-track.

But hey, I was in love for nothing less than two years and dared to ask her out once - and once only - and all I got in return was a "maybe". My self-confidence back then was by no means sufficient to pull it through. So I backed off. And God knows how much I do regret it. Ten years later...

One evening, I went to a friend's party, and she would sit all by herself on a couch. I went to sit next to her, and without a word, took her hand into mine, and just smiled. Unfortunately, my then girlfriend would stop by, and I would head off with her. Probably the biggest mistake I ever made. I should have held her hand for the rest of my life, and things would have gone differently... maybe...

As life passes by...

What was incredibly depressing in my former life as an investment banker is that I could literally watch my life and my best years pass by, but as if enclosed in a golden cage, I couldn’t do anything about it. Quitting my job was like freeing myself from the chains of mercantile slavery, and finding my way back to the things that really matter in life. And those aren’t really complicated. I didn’t have to take a difficult path leading to a rewarding new career. All that was necessary was to walk into a bar and find a girl.