I’m Everything I Never Though I Wanted To Be

It’s been nearly a year since I’ve written anything new.  I’ve had the most eventful year and nothing to say.

I turned 31 this year and I sat down and realized that I’ve become everything that I never thought I wanted to be.

When I first quit my job and said ‘fuck it’ to everything, I was 24.  All I wanted was strange adventures, beautiful men and a permanent tan.  This went on for a couple of years.  I bought  one way ticket, and I didn’t look back.  I had no money, no clue, and no fear.  Generally a recipe for disaster.  I traveled for a few years; always broke, no fixed address, new cities, new faces, foreign sounds and a semi permanent tan.

Certain circumstances brought me back home, and when I got home, I was depressed.  I said I’d stick around for a few months, save up a few pennies and buy a one way ticket to Mexico where I would spend a few years making my way through Mexico, Central and South America.  That was 5 years ago, almost to the date.  When I got home, I said I would never give a shit about having a nice car, a nice house and all that shit that adults are supposed to want.  I would always do what I loved and never be tied down to material things.

I used to think people that drove BMWs were fucking pricks.  I now drive an Audi… close enough.  I’m a fucking prick. I recently bought my first house… it has a yard and I love to spend my weekends at Home Depot.  My seedlings have started to sprout and I am legitimately excited to plant my very own little garden this weekend.  I adopted a dog earlier this year and I got my first foster dog 3 days ago.

The girl that refused to ever have any real responsibility has nothing but responsibility now.  I actually have not one, but TWO living beings in my house and depend on me to live.  Although, to be fair, my dog lived on the reserve for a few years before he came to live with me. I softened him up, he sleeps on a memory foam bed and rolls in an Audi, he’s not equipped to deal with real life anymore.  I have turned my dog into a little bitch.

Anyways, the point I am trying to get at is not that my dog is a little bitch, but that I’m the little bitch.  When I came home from my time wandering aimlessly around the world, I said I would never become any of those things.  I would devote my life to travel, adventure, and philanthropist endeavours.  I promised to save all the puppies and orphans.

I am digressing here.

I enjoy my job most days, I find it challenging and I’m mentally stimulated even though I sit in a cubicle.

I love my car.  I used to drive around this shitbox Mazda and every time I got into it, I wondered if I was going to die in it.  I shouldn’t feel bad about owning a nice car that gets me safetly to and from my destination, one that I can take out on road trips and not worry about breaking down and having to offer blow jobs to truckers to get me to the next destination (if TV has taught me anything, it’s that hitchhikers must give blow jobs).

I don’t live out of a back pack anymore.  I have more than 6 shirts, most of them are clean. I get to put things away nicely in their places.  It’s actually quite incredible how settling this can be.

I recently moved into my new home and renovated the kitchen.  I honestly felt proud when I put up the new tiles on my kitchen backsplash and when I made that first mortgage payment.  Hey everyone!  Look at me!  I’m in debt FOREVER.  You know what is fucked up?  The reason why I ever started looking for a house is so my dog could have a yard.  Even just a year ago, I vowed I would never give up the single girl downtown lifestyle; and now here I am, in the burbs, with my dog and my yard.  I basically bought my dog a house.

The point of this post was, I’ve become everything that I said I never wanted to be and I don’t feel guilty or shameful about it either.  I don’t feel embarrassed that I drive a nice car and have a home to call my very own.  It doesn’t upset me that I now have a job that pays my bills and I’m not scrounging up my change to buy my next meal.

As exciting as my once adventurous life was, I don’t know that I would want to do it again.  Sure, I miss it the excitement of living life on the road continuously, but I don’t miss the days when I had no money, lived in an apartment with 6 other people, and ate Nutella out of the jar and nothing else because I couldn’t afford anything else.

I used to look down on people like me.  I always felt that people like me were missing the point of life.  Some days I do hate the monotony of it all, but most days I’m pretty happy; but regardless of what life is lived, not every day is perfect.  Nothing makes me happier than coming home and seeing my dog pressing his little nose up against the window waiting for me to come home from work.  It is actually the best thing, when I open the door and his tail is wagging so hard his entire body is swaying side to side.  I don’t need to jump out of airplanes for the excitement anymore.  The biggest smile of my day is when my dog licks my face even though I know he’s probably spent a period of the day licking his own asshole.

I never expected to live this long, I always imagined I would die stupidly because I never understood consequences.  I always had this vision of who I would become, and life doesn’t always work out the way you plan.  In fact, life NEVER works out the way you plan.  People change, feelings change, circumstances change and I had to learn to roll with it or live a life of disappointment and missed opportunity.  I suppose I could die tomorrow, but what happens if I don’t?  Would I continue to try to force an envisioned life that makes no sense to who I am as a person today?

I never thought I wanted to be an adult, but it turns out I am a fucking adult, and you know what?  I’m ok with that.

30

I apologize that this post is late…. I started it on my birthday and just couldn’t get it out right….

Well friends, I made it.  I’m 30 fucking years old.  I always wondered if I would make it this far due to my complete lack of understanding of what consequences are.

As I do every year on my birthday, I reflect on the year that has just passed.

Simply put, this year fucking sucked.  I started off the year with a bang, feelin good about everything.  I had an awesome job, I was fit and I thought I had met the man of my dreams.  Well, my boyfriend cheated on me and then I got laid off.  At the time, I thought I was fine.  First off, fuck that guy.  And it’s cool, I’ll find another job.

I never realized how badly damaged I was from being cheated on until I tried to date again.  Unfortunately, I chose the worst person to date when I decided to start dating again.  I loved what Jesse was, I didn’t love who Jesse was.  He was the exciting badass.  The long hair, the beard, the Harley.  I was his ride or die bitch.  It was fun when HE wanted it to be fun.  I was constantly on eggshells, wondering if something I was going to say would start a fight.  He would be overly sensitive to my comments but I wasn’t allowed to be upset when he was jerk.  This lasted for nearly 5 months. Why I let it continue for 5 months is a mystery to me.  I guess I was in a vulnerable spot.

On top of everything that had happened last year, dating Jesse just made me fall apart like I’ve never fallen apart before.  I already felt defeated, and he was my breaking point.  I quit life.  I shut down.

I stopped going to the gym, I started eating badly, I became withdrawn, I didn’t see my friends, I didn’t want to be out in public.  I actually almost feared human contact.  There were a handful of people I allowed myself to be around, and only in small gatherings.  I cried.  All I fucking did was cry.  I tried to go to the gym. I’d cry.  I’d get in my car to drive somewhere.  I’d cry some more.  I’d be sitting at my desk at work, trying to compose an email and I could feel the tears.  I couldn’t understand why I was so sad.  I didn’t know how to not be sad either.

I started going to counselling.  I also quickly stopped going to counselling when my counsellor questioned if I should be there or not.  Perhaps I’m not as sad as the “normal” person who seeks counselling is; she showed me a chart with an average “sadness” level and I was below that level.  She turned out to not be helpful.  This is not to dissuade anyone who feels the need to seek counselling to not seek counselling, just find the right counsellor.

I’ve been a mess of a person.  I’ve taken yet another step back.  Letting myself further downward spiral is not going to make me feel any better any sooner.  I spend most of my time alone these days, which is weird for me, and probably most of my friends who are used to seeing me out all the time with everyone.  I am always everybody’s best pal.  I want to know how everyone is all the time.  I apologize to everyone for being distant and unreachable as of late.

I’ve taken some time out to re-evaluate what I hope to gain from my time on this crazy rotating mass and the kind of person I want to be and the kind of people I want in my life.  For the first time in my life, I’ve been very guarded.  I’m very careful with who I have been spending my time with, and it’s the only thing that has started to heal me.

Right before Christmas, my friend Tyler, who lives in Africa, came home, and he, my best pal Chocolate and I decided that we should head out to Revelstoke and spend some time together in the mountains.  I don’t always keep in regular contact so he wasn’t fully aware of everything that had been going on in my life.  Tyler just held my hand as I cried my little face off.  Tyler has held my hand many times as I cried my little face off.  Chocolate has held me up even more times than that.  I knew I was in good hands, and I trusted that they would take care of me, and without fail, they did.  I just needed them to be with me.  We spent 3 days out in Revy and we met up with a couple of other pals I have out there.  While the 5 of us were at dinner one night, my heart was filled with joy again.  I was surrounded by some of the best men I know in one of the most beautiful places I know.  It was just one of those moments when I knew I was going to be ok because I had my little darlings taking care of me.

I know I’m going to be ok, but I’m not there right now but I know I’ll get there.  I’m an insecure shell of a human being right now;  wishing I was prettier, skinnier, stronger, smarter, more successful.  I don’t feel like I’m enough.  There’s this part of my brain, the logical side that is telling me, ‘Jen, you’re a fucking dumbass because you know deep down that you’re enough.’  But the problem is I don’t FEEL it.  It just feels like I tell myself over and over again that I’m enough because it’s the logical and rational thing to do, but I can’t seem to convince myself.

Then I wonder to myself, if I had fake boobs, fake hair, fake nails, straighter teeth, better eyebrows, longer eyelashes, poutier lips and the Kardashian contoured skinny face, would I feel better about myself?  Maybe temporarily, but that’s not me.  I’d probably look at myself in the mirror and realize what a complete asshole I’ve become.  I’d take 500 selfies and pretend like I took one and it just came out flawless, I’d apply the X-Pro filter because it’s the one that makes me look the most tanned, then I’d sit there and stare at my phone and wait for the likes to roll in to validate that I’m good enough, that I’m pretty enough and that I’m desired.  Then I’d post a new selfie EVERY SINGLE DAY to constantly validate that I’m good enough.  I hope I never get to that point.  I hope that I do enough cool shit to share photos of experiences rather than of my stupid ass face every day.  I also hope that I never hit that point that the only satisfaction I get is from people liking pictures of said stupid ass face.

I am not that woman that punched her cheating ex boyfriend in the face, or the woman that quit her job and left her life on a whim to seek out new experiences in foreign lands.   I am not the brave soul I once was and I am not strong right now (mentally, physically or emotionally).  If you chip at the stone long enough, it’s bound to crack.

I can’t wait for the day when I don’t feel like this anymore, because I know it’s not far off.  I’m working on picking my sorry ass up off the ground because I know nothing will get better until I’m willing to let it be better.  The only thing I can control in this world is how I choose to deal with it.  I can’t wait for the day when I’m in a relationship with a wonderful man who wants to live in the woods with me and all my mangled rescue dogs, who looks at me and tells me I’m everything he could ever want, even though my boobs aren’t a C and I don’t have abs because I rather eat a pizza, and he still loves me even though I love the new Carly Rae Jepsen song.

Someone who appreciates my inappropriate humour because I think talking about buttholes (or as I like to refer to them, ‘balloon knots’), is hilarious.

Someone who isn’t freaked out by the fact that 98% of my body weight resides in my butt and my thighs.

It’s taken me nearly 6 weeks to write this because I wasn’t sure I was ready to share this.  It’s also an apology for being a terrible friend to a lot of you these last few months.  I haven’t been around although I know I’ve always promised I would be.  Let’s be real though, nobody wants to be around a sad sack of shit with flat hair, over 22% body fat and unwaxed eyebrows, right? 😀

I love you all and I’ll be back soon.

The Haters Gonna Hate

First off, please enjoy this picture of this pug sitting on a couch because it’s hilarious.

I’m a ball buster, the shatterer of egos. I can be a jerk. I know it.

I don’t rip on people with malicious intent. I don’t wake up each and every morning and go through my contacts list and pick a name out of the hat and proceed to make that person feel like shit.

My mission is to challenge people, to bring about a new perspective and I ask that others do the same with me. If I say something dumb as fuck, call me out, but be prepared to back yourself on why my opinion is dumb as fuck. Challenge me to think in new ways. It’s the only way I’ll ever grow, and it’s the only way that those I challenge will ever grow.

I’ve received a lot of feedback since I’ve started writing this blog and sharing it openly. A lot of it is positive, and of course, there is the negativity. However, the negativity has not been shared with ME. I’ve heard lots of things through the grapevine; such as I’m crazy and unstable, I’m angry and that I refuse to take any responsibility for my actions. Because I’ve heard these things through the grapevine, I cannot confirm it’s validity, so if you’re the ones saying these things, feel free to call me out openly, or not openly, but to my face at least. I want to know what I have written to make you think this way. Maybe I am all these things, and I don’t realize it. Make me see a new perspective about myself. Challenge ME to reevaluate the choices that I make and the way I treat people. The thing I know about shitty people, is that they don’t realize they’re shitty. Maybe I’m one of those shitty people. If I’m shitty, please help me to be less shitty because I’m probably completely unaware of my shittiness. I’ve been called a ‘cunt’ more times in the past year than most people have been called in a their lives (that includes those living in Australia who spout off the word in every sentence). Maybe I’m missing something here? Or maybe I’m doing something right if I’m pissing off that many people?  I know if I ask these people why I’m a cunt, they won’t have an answer, it’ll be something along the lines of, “you just are,” which then leads me to believe that I’ve just hurt your ego in some way and that is your best response.

I, obviously, do not think of myself as any of these things. I just think that some of these opinions are coming from super butt hurt dudes that I a) want nothing to do with anymore, b) have made feel shitty because they’re assholes or c) may have spoke generally about humanity and you seem to fit the description of the shitty ones I have mentioned at some point.

There are also a few select people out there that are trying so desperately to dissect me, to understand what makes me tick, trying so hard to understand me on some sort of deep level. I hide nothing, my friends. I think I have exposed a lot of who I am through this blog and to anyone that has a conversation with me. I am not scared to share with you my inner workings, my fears, hopes, dreams, likes, dislikes, heartbreaks and happiness because I know everyone has gone through the exact same things that I have. I have shown my vulnerable side, I’ve been hurt and I’ve done the hurting. I’m human.

Friends, I am smart, but I am not deep. Seriously.

There are very few thoughts that keep me awake at night. Sometimes I wonder about what makes the world go round, and what our purpose is on this rotating mass, but those thoughts fade just as quickly as they came. There is no point in losing sleep over things that I will never actually have the answers to. There are some of you out there that I haven’t seen in YEARS, but seem to think they know me better than I know myself? There are also some out there that I have only hung out with a handful of times, but also know me better than I know myself. And then there are the even smaller handful that I haven’t seen in years that I only hung out with a handful of times and you seem to know me best of all. I don’t understand these people. Why are you trying so desperately to paint me as something I’m not? Why can’t you accept the things I say at face value? Yo, this isn’t English class, if I told you I ate an apple, it means I ate an apple, it’s not symbolism in any way. The apple doesn’t symbolize my deepest fear for the sweet delights in life because a family member was killed by diabetes 100 years ago.

Anyways, if you have something to say, please share, feel free to call me out publicly. Comment on this blog, write on my Facebook wall, send me a text, an email, a Facebook message, throw a brick through my window with a note wrapped around it, or if you want to make amends, send me a pizza and write a message on the pizza box.  COME AT ME BRO.

If you have a question who I am as a person, ask me and I will answer truthfully If you continue to talk shit about me, that’s ok too, just know that I have very little respect for you, this isn’t fucking high school.

For the first time in my life, I can relate to a Taylor Swift song, because the ‘Haters gonna hate, and I’m just gonna shake it off.’  If you don’t find this song catchy, you’re a liar.

Jen Cheng’s Guide to Picking Up Asian Women

So it seems as though some men have been infected by what is known as “yellow fever.”

Urban Dictionary defines “yellow fever” as the following:

1. A term usually applied to white males who have a clear sexual preference for women of asian descent.
2. An infectuous tropical disease carried by mosquitoes.

I am referring to the former in this situation.  Why are so many infected by yellow fever though?  If porn has taught me anything, it’s that Asian women are submissive, dick sucking machines that will make you blow multiple loads and make you sandwiches immediately after.  Well gents, thank god I am here.  Let me guide you into landing your very own exotic Princess of the Orient.

The other day, while I waited in line at Subway, thinking about that meaty footlong that was going to enter my mouth, a man in line in front of me turned around and gave me the up and down.

Step 1 in picking up Asian women, DON’T EVER do this.  Actually… I guess this applies when attempting to pick up any woman.

He then took a step closer to me, invading my personal space in an overly packed Subway.  I took a step back, and he took yet another step closer to me, clearly not picking up on the fact that his hot breath on my face wasn’t giving me a lady boner, “Hi, are you from Taiwan?”

“Um, no dude, I was born in Calgary.”

“Oh, I was just in Taiwan you know, and you look like you’re from Taiwan.”

“Um, cool.  I’ve seen the inside of the Taipei airport.”

“But you’re not from Taiwan?”

“Um… no.”

“Well you really look like you are, I’m going back there soon.”

He then proceeded to talk about Taiwan for 6 minutes.  I should’ve just left, but the smell of freshly baked Subway bread had me by my balls.

“So where are you from if you’re not from Taiwan?”

“I was born here, in Calgary.”

“But what are you?”

“Excuse me?”  I wasn’t sure how to answer this.  Ewok?  I’ve always wanted to be an Ewok, they’re fucking adorable.  What else was I?  Female, offended, fantasy football super star, snowboarder, weight lifter, dirtbag …. I’m a lot of things.

So this isn’t the first time this has happened to me.  In fact, it’s probably the 500th time this has happened to me.  A random non Asian dude will come up to me, ask me if I’m from some Asian country, then proceed to tell me that they’ve been there and tell me all about it, ignoring the fact that I am clearly uninterested.

Step 2: Do not assume automatically assume that just because I’m Asian, that I’m from an Asian country and not born and raised in Canada, even though I have the stereotypical Asian girl bangs.

Step 3:  I probably don’t care that you’ve been to (insert Asian country here).  You’re trying to pick ME up.  Make this about me and my sweet ass.  Ask me how much I can squat.  I’ll be more inclined to talk to you.  Hell, I’d even be more receptive to a cheesy pick up line.  Let me give you some examples:

“If you were a Transformer, you’d be Optimus Fine.”

“Are you a parking ticket?  Because you’ve got FINE written all over you.”

“I want our love to be like pi – irrational and never ending.”

“If you were a booger, I’d pick you first.”

YOU’RE WELCOME.  If you want to be neck deep in Asian pussy, I suggest you use one of the above, trust me, as an Asian woman, I know these things.

Other techniques involve growing out a beard, rolling up to my house on your Harley with a pizza for Sunday football.  If you’re a true romantic, that pizza will be in the shape of a heart.  You’ll come to my place, offer to crack my back and watch Raiders and Packers games with me.  Bitches love it when you offer them heart shaped pizzas.

Ok, I’m going to be honest, most of this shit won’t work unless you’re trying to pick me up.  In the instance that you do meet a proper Asian girl that has just immigrated from Asia, I promise you, NONE of this shit will work.  I have no idea how to pick up those girls.  I imagine Hello Kitty accessories are probably a good start.

 

 

 

 

If You Like It Then You Better Put A Superbowl Ring On It

The other day I had a conversation with my Grandmother, a conversation I’ve had a hundred times with her before.

She asked me, ‘Jen, do you have a boyfriend yet?’

“No Grandma, I do not…” *eye roll*

“Do boys chase you? Why don’t you have a boyfriend? You’re getting old, pretty soon, it’ll be too late and nobody will want you.”

Now, my dear old Grandmother comes from a completely different time and doesn’t understand why this is an offensive comment. How do I explain to my Grandmother that I don’t believe in marriage? How do I explain to her that being married doesn’t mean the same thing it meant 70 years ago?

Here’s the thing, I believe in love, wholeheartedly. But what is marriage? It’s a piece of paper that binds two people together in the legal system and I guess in the eyes of God? Well I’m Buddhist… so I guess I don’t give a shit what God says.

The only reason why I ever want to get married is so I can buy a beautiful dress, get my hair done and have people tell me how beautiful I look for an entire day and throw a massive party for all my pals. That is it. Cynical? Perhaps. I like to think of it as being realistic.

I’m not saying I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone I love, because I absolutely do. I want to find that person that I can wake up next to every morning and be thankful that he is in my life. I want to find that man that pushes me to be a better person, that challenges me, that calls me on all of my bullshit, that knows all the right things to say to me when I’ve had a shitty day; someone who knows how I like my pizza and who knows how to sexually satisfy me. I want to find that person that I can experience all the riches that life has to offer; someone to travel with, someone to go through all the good shit and the bad shit with.

Love is love. Marriage doesn’t make that love stronger. If your partner is a lying, disrespectful piece of shit, they will always being a lying, disrespectful piece of shit. Marriage won’t make a shitty person less shitty. Love, however, might make a shitty person less shitty.

If a relationship falls apart, one might say that the other didn’t respect the sanctity of marriage, but that’s not true. It means one partner didn’t respect the other as a person. I can still make vows to someone without doing it in front of a hundred witnesses. I can promise to love and cherish someone through sickness and in health, but doing so in a ceremony doesn’t make it more true.

I don’t know who I’m going to be in 10 years or even 20. I don’t know that my partner and I will grow together, although I would hope so. People change and sometimes it’s just not meant to last. Why continue trying to jam a corner piece of the puzzle into the middle of the damn puzzle?

When I’m in love, I’m head over heels in love. Like everything else in my life, it’s one extreme to the other. I’m either completely obsessed, or I just don’t give a shit. I become absolutely consumed by the other person. It’s probably unhealthy, but that’s the way I function. I’ve been broken up with in every single serious relationship I’ve ever had. With my serious boyfriends, all I could ever see was forever. I could never even fathom a time in which I didn’t love that other person anymore (this still rings true, I still love each and every one of them, although that love has transformed into a different kind).

I’m not necessarily shitting on marriage here. It works for some people, and some people want it. I guess I’m just challenging the way that we, as a society view love. Love is love and marriage is marriage and somewhere along the way, one became a necessity to facilitate the other and I just don’t dig it.

So I guess if I ever get married, you guys should all come, because the only reason I’m doing it is so I can throw a huge fucking party, complete with a waterside or something similar in nature.

I don’t need convention. I never have and I probably never will. I’m not looking for a Prince. I’m just looking for someone who will high five me when the Raiders (eventually) win the Superbowl again.

Adventures in Online Dating: I Don’t Like Chinese People

I just had a conversation with a man who claims to be a 6’6″ doctor/model, for some reason, I have a hard time believing it. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

Adventures in Online Dating: You Don’t Look Right

Well friends, against my better judgement, I have signed up on POF again in search of someone who doesn’t suck. I’m clearly delusional thinking I might find such a person on the interwebs. I’ve been back on for about a week now and I have enough stories to fill a book that would make good women want to become lesbians and good men ashamed to be men.
I guess all I’ll be doing on here is putting douches in place, one at a time.

Dick Sandwich? No thanks.

Dear Male Species,

I’m upset with you, and let me explain to you why.

So as most of you know, my ex boyfriend cheated on me, if you didn’t know, here is the recap.

That would be enough to deter most women for the moment, but even that didn’t sour me on men.  I believed that I just came across one shitty one, that most dudes are good dudes because all my male friends are just that, good dudes.  So this is where things go south.  After I wrote the aforementioned post, I received messages/texts from at least 4 different men (within 2-3 days of that post going up) that I had some sort of relationship with in the past, maybe it was just a couple of dates, maybe I slept with them.  Whatever it was, it was in the past.  Some in the recent past and some  so far back you could do a Back to the Future movie on our story.  Anyways, these messages weren’t messages of love, or caring, or “Hey, sorry about that dude, hope you’re doing alright.”  They were more along the lines of, “Hey, now that you’re single again, how about I come over tonight and help you forget about that dude?”  Or, “Looks like I’m calling you at an opportune time.” or “do you still live in the same apartment?  I’ll come by later tonight.”  Those are some of the tamer ones, some were crude.  I actually had one gent tell me that he would cheat on his girlfriend with me.

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?

So I’m not sure if I give out some sort of weird, insecure, skank vibe that makes people think that I desperately need to have a dick in me to feel whole again?  Or if there’s something about my face that screams. ‘Hey!  Cheat on your girlfriend with me!”  Please, if there is something about my face, the way I dress or the way I hold myself that gives off that impression, please fucking tell me. Today I wore a shirt with a pineapple on it, is pineapple some sort of euphemism for “I NEED TO GET LAID!?” It’s a fucking pineapple.  I had someone tell me today that they wanted to see my vinegar strokes, except they didn’t even put it as eloquently as that, and there is nothing eloquent about the term “vinegar strokes. ”

Ruxin’s Vinegar Strokes

So I’m upset because I’m confused.  I’m not sure if I’m doing something to bring about this disrespect, or if men are just fucking pigs and just do this with everyone.  I don’t know what is going on, but I’ve never experienced such an influx of bullshit in my life before.  Seriously, I do not want to know if you’re thinking about me naked, I do not want to know if you’re thinking about me when you jerk off, please don’t try to booty call me if we haven’t spoken in years, especially if you were an asshole the first time around and I let you know what an asshole you were, please don’t try to empathize with me, then ask me if I want your dick in me.  I can promise you, I don’t.  I don’t know if you’re just THAT stupid that you think this is flattering.  Expressing my sexuality does not mean that I want to fuck everyone and should be disrespected.

I have been disgusted with men the last two months.  I’m sorry to the good ones, but aside from the interactions I’ve had with men that are my friends, the rest of you have been absolutely disgusting.  Ok, I’m lying, not the rest of you.  There has been one legitimate gentleman who has made no mention of putting his dick near me, even though he has revealed in the past that he is attracted to me, and for that, I thank you.

This is the angriest post I’ve ever written about men, ever.  I’m honestly sick of the disgusting behaviour and I’m about to go vigilante on all your asses if you don’t cut it out.

 

I went and saw John Legend in concert tonight and I want to know why can’t all men be as chivalrous as John Legend?   Holy fucking swoon.

Anyways dudes, knock it off.  Not just towards me, but towards all females.  I am starting to understand why some women just flat out hate men, please don’t turn me into one of those women.

This is how I feel right now, at 5:30 in the morning.

I’m So Full of Love I Can Barely Eat

I have so many unanswered questions about this thing we called “life,” but I think I’m beginning to understand how I want to live mine.

I’ve spent a lot of my life chasing experiences.  What is the craziest thing you can think of?  Because I want to do it.  I’ve always said I want to experience everything this world has to offer, and I still do.  I want to stand at the top of cliffs that over look the most majestic landscapes imaginable, I want to stand under waterfalls, I want to hike through the jungles, I even want to get malaria…. you know, just to see what it’s like.  I want to know what it’s like to have a fever so high that I become delusional, pissing out of both ends, in a country with questionable health care.  Does that sound stupid?  It probably is.  MALARIA CAN KILL YOU, YOU STUPID ASSHOLE.  I’ve spent nearly 30 years chasing these experiences, trying to find the thrill, the rush, the great story to tell, that I forget each passing moment is an experience.

I find myself starting to slow down as I get older, not because my joints hurt (thanks to Bengay), but out of choice.  I’m starting to appreciate the little things that I’ve heard so many people talk about before, mostly in inspirational memes (thanks Internet)!  I’ve always enjoyed the little things, but I don’t think I ever truly appreciated them, or those perfect moments, not extraordinary moments, but perfect none the less.  The more I’ve begun to notice these things, the more I feel overjoyed with this world and the people in it.

Holy shit!  Look at this inspirational meme!  Words over a picture of a swing!  WHAT THE FUCK?

While in California last week, we were at the Santa Monica Pier as the sun began to dip into the ocean.  Now, living inland, this is the most amazing sight to me.  That’s it, just watching the sun continue it’s rotation, as it does every single day and has done every single day for thousands of years.  I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to express that moment in words.  It was just perfect.  Watching people fish off the pier, the sun setting, the lights from the ferris wheel, the hundreds of people, the cotton candy and churros and the cold blue water.  It’s SO lame and so cheesy.  I’ve read about this moment in a thousand blogs, books, movies and I never fully understood it.  There is nothing extraordinary happening, but at the same time, everything happening is extraordinary.  My heart felt so full and my soul fulfilled.  I love(d) the world.

Santa Monica Pier

 

I find myself having more and more of these moments, because I’ve slowed myself down and allowed myself to take in my surroundings.  I’ve learn to calm my mind down and enjoy the stillness of just being.

I’ve also started to truly, fully enjoy the company of the beautiful people that I have let into my life.  This evening, a girlfriend came over, and we sat on my balcony and stared at the absolute worst view of the condo building going up behind my apartment, and we smoked a cigar.  We enjoyed the night, the cigar, tea and just being together and being able to laugh at the curveballs and have been thrown at us.  That’s it, just two girls, sitting on a balcony.  Perfect.

While in Cali, we went to Disneyland, and I came off every ride just laughing as if it was the most fun I had ever had in my entire life.  I giggled and giggled and it was a real laughter that came from the pits of my belly and wouldn’t stop.  I was in fits of joy.  Those are the perfect moments, of pure, unapologetic happiness.

As much as I miss traveling, and believe me, my heart aches for it everyday, I don’t hate not traveling.  When I first got home, I was so depressed; I was depressed at the monotony of “real life.”   I took these un-extraordinary extraordinary moments of pure bliss and simplicity for granted.  I am understanding, a little more with each passing day, what it means to be at peace with the world and with myself.  I’m finally at a point in my life where there is no drama.  I’m surrounded by great people and a whole lot of love.

I’ve also spent large portions of my life trying to fill a void that I always assumed could easily be filled by being with a man.  Although I’ve never entered into a relationship just to be with someone, I was always searching for it.  My motivating factor in life was to meet men.  For the first time, in a long time, if not ever, that void that I was always trying to fill is full.  I’m so incredibly happy just being around other people that have loving, caring hearts and the positivity is infectious.

Holy shit, I just read all this back to myself and I sound like a fucking weird hippy.  I promise you, I will continue to shave my armpits, wear shoes when appropriate, eat meat, swear like a sailor and smoke as many cigars as possible.

Anyways, I think if we all slow the fuck down, we’ll all realize that this world is a pretty fantastic place full of fantastic people and interesting things to see.  Really friends, let’s all take some time out to smell the roses….

….and listen to this song, because it’s beautiful.

Always Keep Your Heart Locked Tight, Don’t Let Your Mind Retire

2 weeks to the moment since my heart was last shattered.

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse, but I want to share with you all what I’ve learned in the last two weeks after I calmed down and did some reflection.

This has been the easiest yet hardest breakup I’ve had to deal with.  It’s only been the hardest because I’ve felt so betrayed, so let down and I’ve never had someone be quite so nasty to me at the end, and not at any fault of mine, but because he needed someone to be angry at so he could wake up each day not hating himself.

Now, I’ll explain to you why this has been the easiest.  Since I put up that post two weeks ago, the response I have gotten has knocked me on my ass and then some.  After I shared my story, I received countless messages via Facebook, texts and email from friends that I see regularly to friends I haven’t seen in 20 years, to friends from across the country and across the world.  I cried (of course I did).  Not out of sadness, but from the love that I received from everyone, which was completely unexpected.  All the messages of love has made me feel closer to each and everyone of you, you’ve all been able to relate to the heartbreak on some level and it has made me feel that much more connected.  It is that human connection that has reminded me that I shouldn’t shut down, that it is still ok to let people into my heart.  I will not let one person taint my view of the world, and the love in my heart, because that would mean he succeeded in a fight that I didn’t know I was fighting in.

The most fucked up part about the whole thing is I had to fight with myself.  I had to keep telling myself that he wasn’t worth it.  I had to read his hateful words over and over again to remind myself why I was better off, but even that wasn’t enough at times.

In the last two weeks, I’ve formed a friendship with the other woman involved.  Fuck, I hate calling her the “other woman,” it sounds so fucked up.  The two of us have had a chance to get to know each other as people, not as “the chick that my boyfriend cheated on me with.”   She is a rad chick and it blows my mind to know that some guy was able to dupe us both into believing he was a loving, caring man.   The more she and I talked, the more I realized I came out of this relationship with the right person.  I know that the two of us will eventually find happiness with the right men and he’ll be forever searching for some unrealistic, idealistic happiness, running the minute things get real, hurting countless number of women in the process.  It’s a fucking scary thought, knowing someone like that lives among us.  I worry for the women he’s going to ruin throughout the course of his life.  I hope that none of these women will be tainted.  I hope that these women will realize that they don’t deserve the hurt that he is going to impose on them.  Actually, scrap that.  I hope that ANYBODY that has been in a shitty relationship isn’t tainted on the idea of love.  We’re all capable and we’re all worthy of it, sometimes it just comes easier, as long as we enter with an open, loving heart.

Anyways, the reason for this post was to say thank you.  Thank you for taking care of me.  Thank you for all the love.  Thank you for being part of my life.

Take care of each other and everything will be ok.  ❤