mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMargaret.

prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr......

sometimes i feel like her mean older sister, "no, you can't along with me and my boyfriend, dweeb!" way more often i feel like her naive younger sister, "wait, wait, take me, too. i wanna go, i wanna go! i promise i'll be quiet, and i'll carry all your stuff, too!" sometimes i feel like her mom, so proud of my honest, but sly, girl for caring for herself before others, living comfortably within both her masculine and feminine sides, having the courage to say no to things, but then the even greater courage to say yes to others. and in all of these roles, i feel incestuous. but that's not my fault. have you SEEN her ass? or, even worse (better?), grabbed it on the dance floor?

margaret has ignored me at all the right times. she has also paid attention when no one else did and i needed it most. her timing (as well as her aforementioned ass) is sublime.

Ah the lovely Margaret... Margaret has got to be one of the toughest women I know. And not the Hollywood-prison-dyke-type of tough. I'm talking about the strong, self-sufficient, and take no shit from anyone type of woman. She can do it herself, thank you very much, but that doesn't mean that she wouldn't like to have your company. Seriously, I have mad respect for this girl, and halfway idolize the way she handles herself and the world around her. I only wish I got to see her more often, not just when there's loud music blaring. She can impart wisdom that would leave the Dali Llama gaping, and then have you chuckiling over the idiotic maschinations of some twitter-headed girlie girl she saw on the dance floor. (yay, I got to use machinations!) That's the other reason I especially like Margaret. She's not a girlie-girl by any means, but she is still a woman, through and through. Cheers to Margaret, a queen among women but no man's "lady".

I mostly call her Margaret. Sometimes Mags or Maggie but mostly I just call her. Across the ranks of slower moving people and particles that’s us right there cresting the horizon line out dancing on the breaking waves.

She was my housemate, woman at arms, chosen family at the very start and I loved every minute of it (even the cheese stealing). I’ve watched her grow in the traces right beside me; shoulders broader and stronger than my own and heart to beat worlds with, keeping me paced and honest.

Pugnacious snark has Pokemon’ed into precision strength, earned beauty. Smarter and sharper than an army of Einstein Ginsu knives matching her might be an exercise in futility but according to the President’s council on physical fitness almost all of us could use some more exercise.

I’d guard, hold, feed, carry, challenge, praise, join, battle, heal, poke, love her at less than a moment’s notice and never waste a thought on if she’d be/do the same to/4 me.