01.20.13

Guys and Misplaced Emotions

This is something people probably never hear: guys are downright fucking emotional creatures. Probably more so than the average woman. Yeah, women get moody and bitch and scream and cry and laugh. And yes, most women can do all of that at the exact same time. But men are emotional in a completely extremely opposite way.
First thing is first, men specifically want what they know for damn sure that they cannot have. I say this is true not only for power tools and fast cars, but especially with women.

Guy has a girlfriend, loves his girlfriend, dotes on girlfriend, but hits on the blond sitting at the bar when girlfriend isn't around.

This past week, I actually experienced this very thing. This guy who I had been checking out in one of my classes comes up to me at the bar. We start to flirt, joking, laughing, having a blast. He's instantly charming, his smile nearly making it impossible to resist. He proceeds then to invite me back to his place. I hesitate, only for a second, but he senses my nervousness and tells me I have until he comes back from the bathroom to think about it. Awkward, but okay... I play along. A few minutes go by and we find each other again in the middle of the crowded bar. We pick up where we left off, flirting, joking, laughing. I lean in for a kiss... He leans in too... and as soon as his lips are nearly a fraction of an inch away from mine, he pulls back, this guilty look spackled across his handsome face.
"I'm sorry," he says, "I can't do this."
"Why in the hell not?" I ask.
"I have a girlfriend."

SLAM. Straight to the gut. Someone just swung at me with a bag of rocks and missed my lady parts by an inch. What. The. Fuck. "But we can still be friends on facebook!" He proceeds to friend request me.

The second emotion that men can't seem to wrap their penis sized brains around is the idea of actually liking someone. Legit. A guy can talk about fucking chicks all day, get some bro taps, slaps on the back, even the timeless high five, all of his buddies encouraging the whorish mannerisms that are male. But talk about having real feelings for a girl, and not the kind associated with her vagina?
Whoa, Bro, you whipped?

Umm... back the eff up dbag, let's talk about the actual possibility of liking someone for reasons other than their ability to rock your world between the sheets, k?

This can actually happen! No joke, no lie, guys can find that spark, that connection, or that desire for companionship, just like the vagina owners can. It's natural. And honestly, that is what should be encouraged.

You like hanging with a girl because she's nice, funny, smart, witty, or just plain awesome...? Props to you, dude.

But here's the thing... you need to be honest with yourself. You need to man the fuck up, balls to the wall, and admit that shit. Use your words. That is the part guys can't handle. Because for some reason, telling a girl you like her, no matter how cool you play it, drops your manhood points by, well, a lot. And that, my dear douchey friend, is complete and utter bullshit.

I don't even own a penis and I can tell you, flat out, that your manhood will, with absolute certainty, remain in tact if you just so happen to grow a pair and tell this girl how you feel.

It is okay. You aren't going to sprout a pair of double D tits just because you can talk openly about what you are feeling. Promise.

Let me be the first to burst that little love bubble though. There are limits to expressing your unleashed heart energy. There is a spectrum, for both men and women alike, usually rated from Stage 5 Psycho Stalker to Douchebag on a Stick, that determines whether your confession will be accepted with open arms or a restraining order.

At one end you've got the cold hearted bastards and icy bitches. These unfeeling non-humans won't bother with liking someone. They're too busy being douchebags. They might lead someone on for a little while, make that someone genuinely like them, despite their douchebaggery, and then proceed to shut that person down, hard and fast. The person who liked them is left in the dust, so beyond confused, they don't even know what to do with themselves.

I, unfortunately, have found myself in this scenario, in company of heartless beings, more times than I am willing to admit. You'd think I'd know better by now.
But I don't, therefore I write about it. Go figure.

Then there is the opposite end of that spectrum. Now, don't get me wrong, you will find just about anyone doing this at one time or another. You tell this person you like them, open your heart, and then BAM! you're attached to their goddamn hip.

You constantly think about that person, talk about that person, text them nearly a hundred times throughout your day, telling them every useless piece of information you can think of, from your lunch content right down to your bowel movements. You met this person a week ago, but it feels like you've known them forever. And you want them to be with you, all the time, and you can't stand the thought of them being with anyone else but you.

Umm... Wait the fuck up. You mean to tell me that you magically decided, without getting to know a single thing about me, that I'm your soul mate? And I have just been living in this little lie bubble this whole time, thinking about how love can't possibly happen at first sight? You've got to be kidding me.

This is not some whirlwind revelation of romance, my crazy friend. NO. This is not the gods, or fate, or destiny. I am not going to jump into your arms and let you smother the fuck out of me. We are not going to be together, get married, and have little psycho-stalker children together. You are absurd. And, frankly, you're making not only me, but the entire world uncomfortable.

You need to, one, slow the fuck down! And, two, take a real long look at the reality of the situation. You go off on a tangent about how we are meant to be, calling me your girl, and expect me to be okay with that? You should probably be committed. Seriously. I don't know you, I don't know where you came from, who your friends are, or, really, anything about you at all.

Little tip (you should probably write this down): LOVE DOES NOT, NOR WILL IT EVER, HAPPEN OVER NIGHT. Hell, it probably won't even happen over the course of a few months. And, to stand up to my brutally honest quota, I am perfectly content with that.

Needless to say, stop being so fucking emotional!


Okay, so I know this was just a long as fuck rant about emotions and shit, but I have had a long few weeks. And a part of that week was having to deal with both extremes of the emotional spectrum. I know it is more girl biased than I am used to writing, but that is only because I experience the men side of things, because they are constantly coming at me with more and more craziness. I know, for a fucking fact, that women are incredibly and sometimes insanely emotional as well, and maybe this post is proof of that, but I am tired of the dramatic soap-opra worthy penis owner moments in my life.

Resolution #020: Check your emotions on a constant basis. Be realistic about how you are feeling, and be honest with yourself about it. Don't be stone-cold so that people question your ability to love, but don't be so obnoxiously in love that it makes people question your sanity. You can be a normal, regular emotioned person, without being dead or psycho. You cannot go from 0-60 in less than a minute, nor can you go from 60-0 in a snap either. So pace yourself. Your heart will thank you. And so will I.

01.19.13

Naps

This past week and a half have been incredibly rediculous. And I apologize for making a hypocrite of myself. This blog was supposed to be a resolution for ever single day, and yet, I am behind. Insanely behind. 
So I am sorry. 
But I write today as an advocate for the one thing we, as normal grown adults, resented when we were children. Naps.
Back then it was the worst time of day, the one hour of dread we had to endure, and behave accordingly, because that is what we were told to do. We would fake close our eyes and pretend to drift away on the clouds of Dreamland, but in reality, our little energetic minds would be plotting our next attack on the playground, what we would draw with our huge crayons, and what snacks mom or dad packed in our super hero lunch boxes for that day. 
Sleep never came, and for those who truly did nap during naptime, well, they were considered the good ones. 
Now, at the ripe old age of 22, I think ebery other hour should be set aside for such occasions, but instead of being wide awake, we actually nap. 
I wish I had taken my parents' advice and my teachers' orders and followed the rules of naptime. Maybe then, now that I am a responsible adult, I wouldn't be so cranky all the time. Naps are now a luxury most of us old folks can't afford, whereas our children get to sleep at the hands of our tax dollars. Seems a bit unfair, but hell, someone has to pay for kindergarten. And it might as well be the people who can't even spare an hour to take a nap.

Resolution #019: Take naps as often as possible. Energy is a rare commodity, and only comes around when you need it least. And when you do need it, it is no where to be found. Take example of our children and their schedules. Do your work, eat your snacks, finger paint a little, and above all else, snooze at noon. Hey, if you did all that, then who the fuck would ever get angry?

01.18.13

Home Is Where the Heart Is

I have been freaking myself out over the past week.
I am attending a new school, I am moving out of my mom's house, and I am making new friends with room mates I now have. It has been incredibly overwhelming and seemingly too fast paced. Two days. That is all of the time I was granted to pack up my life and chuck it into a tiny bedroom made for two. Across town.
I am not even sure how I managed it, but I did. Even the three flights of stairs that I had to climb to get here.
Scariest moment of my life?
Seeing a near empty bedroom at my mother's house where I now used to live. Knowing that if I wanted to sleep tonight, it had to be in a bed less than half the size of my own, in an apartment full of girls I hardly know yet.
Don't misunderstand me, the sleeping part isn't what's hard.
I am good at making friends. I am tough under pressure. I encourage the crazy shennanigans I know I am probably going to get into with these girls. That is all fine and dandy.
It is leaving behind the familiar that is quite possibly going to break me.
I remember when I was a kid, my mom would ship us off to summer camp. The religious kind. And I remember having fun and enjoying the small interlude that was my life, but I also remember the distinct feeling of being home sick.
I feel tid bits of that same tug on my heart now same as I did then, and I guess it's got me scared.
I have been running around doing everything and then some, trying to get my shit together, trying to figure out what to do and where to go next, and you'd think that would keep me from missing my mom's house, but for some reason it is eating away at the back ofmy mind.
Nevermind the fact that my mother is looking to sell my childhood home, which makes it that much harder. 
I know I talked about accepting change in a previous post, and I still firmly believe that is true, but it is easier said than done, apparantly. 
I miss my black cat, Pheobe. I wish I was allowed to have her here with me, and it is scary to think that when my mom supposedly leaves to where ever it is that she is going, that Pheobe won't have a home. 
Anyways, I am writing this post as a way of venting, but also in compilation with my previous posts and posts to come,I guess I am searching for myself somewhere along the way. And I think the only way to do that is to practice what I preach and accept the immensity of the changes that are taking place simultaneously in my life.

Resolution #018: Everything happens for a reason. Change happens for a reason. It is up to you to find outwhat that reason might be and how you play a role in that reason. Roll with the punches, go with the flow, and take things as they come. It may be that kind of struggle you need in order to face a fear, overcome a flaw, or find something great about you that you hadn't yet discovered yet. Either way, there is a purpose for this... whatever this is.

01.17.13

My Muse...

I used to think that I could find inspiration in anything and everything. 
The words of a song, the twisting branches of a tree, the way the sun rose and set everyday. In love, hate, depression, anxiety, nervousness, and pain. In the way a child smiled over a simple thing like balloons and lightning bugs.
I used to be so inspired in life itself and everything life had to offer. 
What I would give to be a child again, never having to worry about getting my heart broken, finding a way to survive, and whether or not the people involved in my life would betray me or not. 
I wouldn't take that kind of innocence for granted, if given that chance again, no matter how naive I would be.
And that is exactly what a child is. They are naive because they are unaware. They do not understand the concept of time, death, heartbreak, or money. They do not seek trouble, because the concept of right and wrong is a blurry inconclusive line that is more like the finger painting project they are working on. Messy and indecisive. 
But I envy the child who has yet to feel what it is like to feel lonely. To feel betrayed. To feel like the world has given up on them. 
One day you are playing outside, really considering taste testing the mud pie you just concocted, and the next, you are overwhelmed by the pressures of the world, searching desperately for some kind of relief. 
Right now, it seems, that everything in my life is moving at the speed of light. I am changing schools, moving, learning new things, meeting new people, and having some of those people fall head over heels with me after only a week of knowing me. It's all just too much.
And what is worse is that I feel like I am standing completely still, unable to move a muscle, just watching it all happen, as if from the sidelines of my own life. And there is nothing I can do to break this freeze frame that is me.
And what is worse than that is that being trapped inside myself is only the tip of the ice berg. I don't really want to break free of the solitude of being distant from everything. I have grown comfort in being alone and helpless. I have considered it a blessing rather than a curse.
And that is not at all okay. I need to get into the game and start getting my life back into some semblance of order. I need to figure out what I want, where I need to be, and what I need to do to get there. Life is pushing at me from every angle, bringing these walls closer and closer, and I need to start pushing back.
The question I have though is how?
How do I find myself again, in this whole giant clusterfuck of a mess that is my life?
How do I find inspiration again?
How do I handle knowing all that I know, having experienced all that I have experienced, and still be able to look at life with fresh, new eyes?

Resolution #017: "Find yourself. And do it on purpose." -Dolly Parton (I didn't really know how to say that any better.)

01.16.13

Oh, Breakfast, Where for art thou Breakfast?

I am the worst non-morning person in the entire universe. I am not exaggerating. 
Anything I have to do before noon and I want to go play in heavy traffic.
My bosses hate me for it. My grades slack because of it. But it just cannot be helped.
My mother used to try to wake me up for school, back when I had to be there at the ass crack of why the fuck am I awake? She learned very quickly how to use her cell phone to wake me in avoidance of the bruises I mistakenly gave her. I get violent when woken from a deep sleep. Especially when it is still fucking dark outside.
But the one thing I take from the wee morning rituals that people have come to observe: breakfast.
I could eat breakfast all day every day for the rest of my life and be completely content with the world. 
Just don't give me breakfast in the AM. :)
Scrambled eggs with cheese, home fries, white toast, and chocolate chip banana pancakes. Yup.
That's what it's all about.
Today I had girl time breakfast with my bestie Logan. 
Breakfast with fun people is always the best choice.
The guy who invented breakfast, I am forever in debt to you.
You have given me something to look forward to after I finally drag my lazy ass out from under my covers.
You have given me a comfort that lunch and dinner can never provide.
You have consoled my soul with your intense variety and pick-me up flavors.
Without breakfast, I would starve.
And I firmly believe that the person who said, "breakfast is the most important meal of the day," was a fucking genius. And completely correct.
Consider this post my ode to breakfast.

Resolution #016: Eat breakfast every single day. Find the time in your busy schedule to just stuff your face with some french toast and OJ. Keep up your energy with some scrambled eggs. Brighten your mood with a pancake. There are so many reasons to eat breakfast: I'm hungry, it's almost 2pm, I have a job interview, I need to get out of my house, I just bought new shoes... the list goes on. Find your reason. And Eat breakfast proudly.

01.15.13

The Same Game.

This may seem strange, and maybe it wasn't just me, but I hated the game Duck Duck Goose.

That game, when I first played it, back when I was five, taught me to be a leader. Not a follower. 

Back in daycare, when the cool kids played that game, it was as though us little ducklings never existed. 

I'd sit in that dumbass circle, waiting to be goose. And for what? So I could chase someone around in a circle?

My sippy cup was even too sophisticated for that shit.

I refused to play. And then I became the outsider, looking in. Watching all of these ignorant children follow each other around in circles. 

I had an issue with lines too. One of us had to go to the bathroom, so therefore we all needed to get into a single file line and go? Made no sense to me whatsoever. I was old enough to know where to go, how to undo my pants, and how to wipe my ass. So why did I need my whole kindergarten class to help me out?

And what was worse was the fact that every single kid in the class actually fought to be the "leader" of the line. As though that made them any less of a follower. 

And you always had that one kid in every class who stuck himself right in the middle, who walked slow as all hell, and held up the back end of the line. Every three seconds the front of the line would have to stop and wait for this kid. The back end of the line was moaning and groaning about how much of a slow ass this kid was being, and the kid? He/she was picking at fingernails, playing with clothes, or just staring off into space, unaware of anything going on. But we all followed anyway. Because that is how we were conditioned to behave.

We were taught from day one that following someone else is how the world worked. 

From Barbie dolls to fad dieting, someone is following something.

Vicious cycle, this line we've ringed our world with. We follow television, news, radio, magazines, billboards, our parents, our teachers, our government. 

Do we even own a single thought in our heads anymore?

Resolution #015: Follow nothing. Don't give someone else the credit for you. You aren't made in a factory, you are not plastic, and you were not made in China. (Unless you were born there, then I guess you kind of were.) You are not a product of anything except what you allow yourself to be. Do not let your manufacturer be anyone else but you. Be original. Be someone separate from everyone else. Make your own statement.

01.14.13

Bon Voyage!

     This road I have been traveling on has been a gruesome and exhausting one. I have managed to hit very pot hole, been hindered by every road block, and snagged by every curve. Uphill is my journey, and it's the hardest, most tedious route to have taken. But somehow I managed to get here, wherever here is. Population: me. 
     I guess you could say I am the antagonist in my own novel. I somehow manage to sabotage myself in the worst ways. My arch nemesis is my ego, or, sometimes, lack thereof.
     I keep trying to push forward, get to the next checkpoint, or exit, or even a rest stop. But I somehow manage to miss every single one. Or something comes up. Something stands in my way. Trust. Love. Pain. Betrayal. Hangovers. Procrastination. 
     My life seems so easy from a distance. Nice and neat, like when you're sitting in a window seat on a plane and looking down over a city, full of colors and lights, full of excitement and wonder.   But when you touch down, find your way onto the streets, you begin to realize everything is crowded. Messy. Confused.
     The contents of my mind are like a lost mouse trying to find his way through a maze in attempt to get his cheese.
     I like to call it my clusterfuck of shit.
     I have been letting my doubts eat away at me lately. Am I good enough to write? Am I a good enough writer to even ask that question? Should I even bother writing a blog about resolutions that of which no one is going to read because I can't seem to take my own advice?
     Truth is, I am afraid.
     I am unwilling to accept the changes, good and bad, that are happening in my life.
     I am avoiding looking outside, maybe because its nothing but cold snow and horrible drivers, or maybe it's because I am trying to avoid being a part of a bigger picture.
     I go to work, but only because they pay me. And I don't really even put in my all when I am there, even though I know I used to want to.
     Complaining about everything has become my worst habit. Then again, would there be a blog if I didn't complain about something?
     I feel like life is weighing me down. I can't seem to get anything done, large or small, and I honestly am tired of putting in the effort.
     But maybe I am looking as the glass half empty. Maybe I am looking at it as though the unpaved road I'm on is never ending. Maybe I need to think of it as me being the paver. If that even makes sense. What if my actions and decisions now, pave the way for someone else? What if   I am leaving behind me a sort of legacy? 
     These words delicately laid out over your computer screen are just a small puzzle piece I am trying to make fit into this glorious masterpiece that is my life. 
     What happens when all of my nothings add up to something?

Resolution #014: Take a trip. Doesn't matter where, doesn't matter how far. This road we're on is already looking like something we've seen before. And it's destined to lead you somewhere. Anywhere. Maybe everywhere. But it is going to be one crazed out hyped up on steroids kind of roller coaster that will make you want to throw up. Then again, life never said it would be easy. But detours are nice. You are already here, you might as well enjoy the scenery.

01.13.13

I'm Not Sorry.

     I started this blog with the full intention of having people read it. I thought, well, hey, I'm a fucking writer. And I'm not all that bad. I think, before my books even begin to get published, people should have a taste of the kind of writer I am. 
     I expect people to react the way that normal people fucking do.
     Not at all.
     Sure, I will probably find those very few select people who will read this blog like it's their job, and that's fine by me. Let my words do their magic little wordy stuff. If this is what gives you all those warm and fuzzies, then by all means, read to your heart's content.
     But majority of the people I know, the people I talk to on a regular basis, the people I see a lot, the people I hang out with, their parents, and even my friends, may or may not ever have the interest in reading a single word of anything I write. Which is sad.
     But I just wanted to clarify: No fucks were given here.
     I don't care about whether you read my shit or not. I am not really doing this for you. I am doing this as a way to challenge myself. And to make my writing a little bit better, hopefully, with each and every goddamn post. 
     Yes, I am doing this on behalf of those who feel the need to have their daily dose of Kayla wittiscisms, which is also a new word I just made up right this second. Some people like my carefree sense of humor. Others find it charming. Some might find it tragically amusing, like some kind of car wreck you can't seem to pull your disturbed gaze from. Few might find it stupid and sappy and over the top and just down right awful.
     You know what I think? 
     I'm going to tell you anyways, because this is my fucking blog after all, that it is okay to think whatever it is that you think of me. 
     I am not going to apologize for being me.
     I am not going to apologize for the way I write, or the way I twist things to sound amazing and awesome. I am not going to apologize for my made up words or my cussing. I am not going to apologize for my repetition or my overly drawn out cliches. 
     And when I get done with all of this, at Resolution #352, I am going to look back at all of this and think, "Hey! I fucking accomplished something awesome. And I am pretty fucking awesome for doing exactly what it was that I set out to do, whatever that might be." 
     I certainly don't need anyone holding my hand the entire way, and I certainly don't need anyone bashing me for doing something you obviously can't.
     Okay, the bashing hasn't happened yet, but when it does (it always does), I will have this post ready and prepared. 
     I am just getting it out of the way. 
     So suck it.

Resolution #13: Never apologize for being you. If someone has a problem with who you are, they are never going to be worth your time. NEVER. So wish them a good day, flip them the bird, and move on. You are you for a reason. And it is not up to someone else to make you feel like shit for being who you are, whoever that may be.

01.12.13

It Must Have Been Love...

     My heart really aches for this post today. There are some things that just need to be said. And I am writing this mainly as a kick in the ass to my best friend, Nikki. She has been having a rough time lately in that battlefield of love, which, I suppose more people are right there with her than not. It is something I didn't even really know I was passionate about until she started arguing with me about it. She doesn't trust anyone, and doesn't want to. She doesn't want to open her heart to anyone new and doesn't want to take the risk of letting someone in for the sole fear of being disappointed. But, I am also writing this for my heart as well. I have been holding a lot in over the past two years, and I just need to let it all go.
     
     I know my very first post was about living fearlessly. and maybe this resolution will be similar. The parallels between taking risks with your heart and being fearless are undeniable. But I take what I said in my first resolution, "do not let fear of success... fear of love... fear of rejection... hold you back," and I pick it all apart right here in this one.

     There once was a girl engaged to be married to a very handsome, honest, trustworthy, and reliable boy. They were incredibly in love; it was almost painfully too much. They were best friends. They were lovers. They were each other's better half. They were so in tune with each other, in fact, that they had developed a sense of comfortable routine. She would go to school, he would go to work, and somehow they always managed to spend a little bit of time together each and every day. They told each other everything, and even when they fought, they never stopped loving. 

     One day, the girl lost her job. The company she had been dying to work for finally hired her, only to go out of business six months later. In the process of losing her job, she also lost her car. The older the car, the less reliable. Things got really tense between the boy and the girl. He tried his best to pick up the slack where needed, bringing her to school and helping her try to find another job. But the strains of life pressures were just too much. They fought more and more, and talked less and less. The girl somehow lost herself in all of it and lost her lust for love in the process. The boy stayed as long as he could, but eventually gave up. And the girl, well, she lost not only the love of her life, but her ability to love at all. 

     She put on a brave smile and tried to push the boy to the back of her mind, all the while telling her friends, "love is just a chemical imbalance in the brain that causes delusions. Endorphins are being transmitted, adrenal glands are being secreted, and your heart is really nothing more than a muscle. Muscles aren't made of glass, therefore they cannot break. They cannot shatter into a million pieces, no matter what the expression, because it is physically impossible." If she could distant herself from feeling the pain inside, then maybe, just maybe, she could survive without her soul mate. Everything became numb to her, all of her senses muffled. Her taste for things she once craved became bland. Colors that were once bold and bright were now dull and gray. Her fingers touched, but didn't feel. Words of comfort, love, and advice for life flowed into her ears, but were not heard. Music she once loved and danced to became less rhythmic, no melody. The smells of the world around her that once enticed her were now rancid. Her heart all but turned to stone.

     Time moved on, life kept going. The world did not end. He moved on to a marriage with someone else, with children. She moved to another school, another job, and another car. She tried putting herself out there, taking risks with her heart, letting other seemingly suitable boys in, and trusting them maybe a little bit too easily. And she got hurt again and again. She became secluded in her emotions, shutting them down as soon as they reared their ugly heads. Emotions are a sign of weakness, is what she would think to herself. She tossed her will to care for the little things out the window, and decided love wasn't worth the risk.

     It will be two years come March 9th. They say it takes half the length of the relationship to get over someone. I have yet to learn the ways of this trick. I have yet to learn that the love I once felt for him an fuel the love I can have for someone else. I have constant reminders that tell me I will be okay. In a promise ring from a perfect day long ago on a beach to the script tattooed on my right ribs, from a song I once knew. I will survive. I will move on. And I will find that love again. It won't be with him, but that is okay. My love is out there somewhere. And that makes me the sappiest girl in the world, but I can at least say I will never give up, whereas he did.

     Back then, I was my own worst enemy. I really used anatomy and science to try to convince myself that it was okay to not care and to be cold. I din't need anyone or anything. Nothing could break me.But it has been long enough and painful enough, where I know now that I need to face my fears. It may take a while for me to trust completely, love completely, but someday, when I find someone worth fighting for again, I will give him my heart, no hesitation. 

     Maybe I'm not being all that clear. Losing him nearly killed me two years ago. I thought for sure I could not survive without him. But I'm not dead. I'm still here. And I am stronger for it. I go out on dates; I give guys my phone number. I go out with my girls and leave my heart on the dance floor. I get dressed up, feel pretty, and take a shot. I laugh until I cry. I make conversation with complete strangers. I sing along to the songs at work or in my car, regardless of who is listening. I may get rejected sometimes. I may manage to find every douche bag, manipulator, heart-string puller, liar, cheater, and scumbag. I may get my heart broken ten times over, again and again. But at least I can say I am alive. And I am not going to stop living until I'm dead. And in the meantime, I will try. I will try for success, for love, for me, and for him. I will try for Nikki, Danielle, Logan, Heather, Jess, Sarah and all of my other friends who can see me for who I am. Strong. Determined. Loving. Carefree. Everything I wasn't two years ago. 

     What doesn't kill you DOES make you STRONGER. I am living proof. And to hear that one of my best friends doesn't want to even attempt that risk--because of rejection, disappointment, the possibility of getting hurt or being vulnerable to someone else--well, now I can say that it is not just the men breaking my heart. It is her too. I love that girl more than life itself sometimes. She deserves the purest form of happiness there is. It is the absolute best feeling in the world, to be able to look at someone for just a fraction of a second, and instantly feel that swarm of butterflies rising in your stomach. It is the most beautiful sensation to ever be felt. And I can honestly say, without a doubt, that I can still feel them. I am not emotionless. I am not a chemical imbalance. I am human. I am a girl. I am me.

     I will probably always have love for the man I lost. The an who taught me how to love and what being in love truly feels like. I have every certainty that he will always hold a piece of my heart. But if I can go through the pain of that loss, through that much heartache, experience that much love just to lose it and still be able to breathe; I must be doing something right.I will continue to search for that something right, no matter what my heart endure while I'm getting there.

     I know this is the longest post I have written thus far, and I swear I am nearly finished. I just needed to get some of this stuff off of my chest. And maybe those of you reading this think I am absolutely bonkers. Which is partially true. I am, though, the happiest nutty person you may or may not ever know. It is because of my past loves and losses that have gotten me this far and this happy. I have no regrets whatsoever. And I plan to keep it that way.

Resolution #012: NEVER GIVE UP ON LOVE. Love hopelessly. Love extravagantly. Love endlessly. Love with all your heart. Take chances, risks, shots, and leaps. It may just save your life. Without love, without those risks, without the undeniable chance of getting hurt or disappointed, there would be no pain. And with pain comes healing. And with healing comes strength. Not matter what happens, not matter what you go through, no matter how many times your heart breaks, YOU WILL BE OKAY. <3

01.11.13

The Truth Is...

     I am the most honest person I know. Brutally so.
     I do not have a filter between my brain and my voice box. 
     Most people are often put off by it, taken back a bit.
     Others find it refreshing. Honesty, it seems, in the world we live in, is a hot commodity. So rare, in fact, it follows in the footsteps of the Video Cassette Recorder. And that, my dear friends, is just fucking sad.
     The truth is, all lies ever get you is trouble. You will eventually get caught, whether it be five minutes, or five years from which that lie was born. 
     You can lie to yourself, denying this inevitability, but you know, deep down, it all comes back to bite you in the ass. 
     And what, I ask, is a lie really good for? 
     To make you sound cooler than you already are?

                        "Hey, dude, I totally just banged this model." Really, Bro?

     To cover your dumb ass?

                       "No, officer, I swear I haven't been drinking. There was a spider, on the windshield, and, well, I tried not to freak out, but it attacked... fucking ninja spiders." Come on, is that really the best you could come up with?

     To make nice with the spouse?

                     "Anniversary? Of course I didn't forget, Silly! This muffin I was going to eat for breakfast is just the beginning of the shower of gifts you'll get throughout the day.............." WTF?

     Cut the shit. You can try to bullshit your way through life, like a four year old trying to get out of trouble...
     Or you can man the fuck up and just be honest. About everything.
     People make mistakes. People forget shit. People do dumb things. It's just what we do. It is inevitable.
     So, Liars, use your grown up words and fess up while you still have some dignity left. 
     Do not be THAT guy who lies about everything. You're stupid.

Resolution #011: TELL THE TRUTH. No matter what. In the end, lies are worthless garbage. You will be respected more for owning up to the truth and being a grown up in a grown up situation. Handle your shit and do it honestly. 

01.10.13

Four Letter Lie... (not just a band.)

     I have been thinking recently about all of the things in this world that I absolutely cannot stand. I hate. HATE.

     I hate it when the mac and cheese I'm eating turns to frozen mac and cheese in less time than it took me to make the goddamn thing.

     I hate the fact that technological devices can't just work when you need them to. Want to watch a movie? Nah, the DVD is just going to skip for no apparent reason whatsoever. 

     I hate the fact that my car keeps breaking. I fix one thing, something else, completely related to the first thing, decides to turn to shit. It's a vicious cycle. 

     I hate when the ice in my cup melts. It turns my entire drink into shit because it just tastes like water. I hate that.

     I hate when I can only find one of the shoes I am looking for. And this usually happens only when I am in a rush.

     This also goes hand in hand with losing anything, in general. I need keys? Oh, wait, I NEED them, therefore I can't find them. When I'm not looking for them, I know exactly where they fucking are. 

     I hate the general populace of human beings. Don't get me wrong, this is me completely hating myself as well, since I am, in fact, of the human species. I do human things, even though humans are in no way perfect, and even though they seemingly make me angry.

     For example, I hate asking stupid questions. "Are you going to the fourth floor?" "Is the fourth floor button lit up?" "Yeah." "Then I guess I'm going to the fourth floor."

     I hate the fact that I can't drive a stupid shopping cart through Wal-Mart. And neither can, seemingly so, anyone else.

     I hate the fact that I am so distracted by my life shit and what's going on in my day that  can't pay attention to the road. Or the cashier. Or my teacher. Or the fact that I passed a cop without my seat belt on.

     I hate that I can never get my hair or my makeup or my clothes exactly right. And I am probably one of those people that other people look at and think, "Oh, Lord, doesn't she own a mirror?"

     I hate the fact that sometimes I can get a little bit too proud, or loud, or arrogant, or impatient, or frustrated, or stressed, and then take it out on other people. Like humans do.

     I hate that I am writing things that I hate, in order to prove the point, that hating stupid shit is useless. 

     This is probably the stupidest post I have ever written, and I don't blame you for skipping right past the bullshit and reading just the resolution part. Which is why I will probably hate this post.   Damn.

      But pretty much, my fucking point of all this...

Resolution #010: Never hate. Hate is a wasteful emotion. It takes up too much time, effort, and thought. You really want to spend your days hating something? Or someone? Just take what is left of your life and live them happily, with love, with forgiveness, and with civility. It is okay to feel this emotion, because, after all, we are human. But to spend all of your effort on hate, well, that is just pointless.

01.09.13

I Suck at This...

     I suck at posting these things everyday apparently  even though my life has seemingly been a vast expanse of nothingness. You'd think I'd find the time to write shit about life shit, but I guess I'm just not used to it yet. Either that or my Netflix habit has gotten the better of me. Is there Netflix Anonymous? Hmmm...

     I am the worst morning person in the world. Anything before 10am and I want to shoot myself in the face with a sawed off shotgun. No, really. I can eat breakfast any time of the day, all day... but      I can't seem to wake my ass up when I need to. I have two alarm clocks. The obnoxious phone right next to my head, which plays this awful song that I can't even name because no one has ever heard it before, and it came with the phone. But it's that tune, kind of like "Call Me Maybe," that makes you want to jab out your ear drums with rusty needles. :) Then there is your standard alarm clock, all the way across my bedroom, so I have to actually force my sorry ass out of bed to turn it off. And whoever invented that alarm clock sound, the one I hate with a burning fiery passion, I hate your fucking guts, bro.

     So, no. I am not a morning person. If someone physically came into my room and tried to gently shake me awake, they'd leave with bruises. Ask my mother. Eventually she learned to stay away and just sick my dogs on me instead. 

     But anywho, this year, as a personal resolution for myself, and may as well be for you too:

Resolution #009: BE ON TIME. Do not be that guy who is half an hour late to work once a week. You WILL, repeat WILL, get fired. Make an effort to make your appearance, wherever that might be, in a timely manner. Without time, life would be seemingly insignificant. But since time is an existing and measurable notion, every nano-second counts. 

01.08.13

What Johnny Cash Taught Me...

I can remember the first time I listened to a Johnny Cash song. 
It was at my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. I don't know how I couldn't have been exposed to Mr. Cash before this, being maybe 8 years old already, but then again, my own parents kind of held both hands on the leash they let me "run" on. 
Ring of Fire. 
That was the song I first heard, and I couldn't help but dance like a fool to it. 
Everyone looked at me like I was just another crazy kid, making a show for attention. But I didn't see anyone else. I didn't hear anything else. I didn't know anything else at that particular moment. 
I was in a Cash Coma. And I loved it.
Ever since that day, music has been a part of my daily routine. I'm not sure if it was just Cash who showed me the light, but I know he had a good chunk of that pie. Obviously being a human being I had heard music before this. But I didn't really appreciate a good tune until I heard him sing.
I can't go a single day without singing. If I did, I would  probably be the meanest person anyone has ever met. I sing in the car, in my bedroom, shower, kitchen, basement, work, school, and everywhere else. 
I may or may not be any good, I get people who tell me both. My mom usually says I suck, but what does she know... She likes Nickelback. 
I don't really give a fuck if I'm a good singer or not. My opinion is the only one that really counts.
Right now I am getting over a cold, which sucks. But I sing anyways, raspy 900 number voice and all. HAHAHA.

So, what Johnny Cash taught me...

Resolution #008: Sing. As often as you can, as loud as you can, and with every ounce of heart and soul that you've got. Music makes everything better. Without it, we'd be bored as fuck all the time. Think of that one song that can instantly flip your mood and make life worth living again and roll with it from there. It doesn't matter if you're tone deaf, singing in itself is a glorious life changing picker-upper. Love your voice, and exercise it, even if it makes the neighbor's dog howl.

01.07.13

Love Thyself

     I am a chick, so naturally, I feel fat today. haha. 

     Okay, not really, but I do have my little quirks that I can't stand about myself. I hate that my hair is naturally a mess. I hate my eyebrows when they aren't waxed. I hate my legs in shorts. I hate my feet. Period. I could keep going about how everything about my body just bugs the fuck about me, but I won't. That's just fucking annoying. And I can't stand that shit.

     I see these girls who are skinnier than a model on an anorexic diet and I think, WTF? These girls talk all the time about how fat they are. It's enough to make me want to punch 'em all in the face.

     I hear these guys talking about how they ain't big enough. WTF? Since when do having arms bigger than your head make you fucking attractive? Since when does that chest of yours have to pucker out like a gorilla staking claim on a mate in the jungle? No one really looks like that naturally. 

     And when I say naturally, I mean, fucking naturally. Without protein shakes out the wazoo, steroids, salads for every meal, and a cot set up for you in the back room of the gym. 

     We strive for perfection.... and for what? So we can look like the 50-year-old grandma on the Boflex commercial? Um... I think I'll pass. 

     I wanna wear heavy eyeliner. My eyes are awesome. I like my skinny jeans even though my muffin top peaks out over the top of them. I like my hair because it's long and shiny and mine. If I want to wear combat boots or dog collars or even body glitter, I'm gonna fucking do it. Regardless of what anyone else thinks.

     Granted, women should wear clothes that flatter their body type and not expose it for what it really is... my eyes can only take so much trauma in one lifetime. And guys should pull their fucking pants up. I don't need to see your hairy bony ass. This is just my humble opinion. But if I say guys and girls can't wear what they want, that makes me a hypocritical bitch. 

     And if I can do whatever the fuck I want with my body, then, I suppose, so can you....

Resolution #007: Love yourself. Don't let anyone who is not you tell you who you need to be. You really are beautiful just the way you are, because you are, in fact, you. Anyone else giving you crap for the immense amount of makeup you wear, the way your jeans hang on (or off) your ass, the way you laugh, talk, walk, or any other phenomena they obviously can't wrap their brains around about you, fuck 'em. They will never know how awesome it is to be you, because they never could be you. Only you can make yourself as awesome as you really are. So, do you, Kid.

01.06.13

Mount Everest

     Sometimes I just look at the complete list of shit I have to do throughout my day and then slam my head against my wall in a repeated motion. I hate having to be a grown up and pay bills and run errands. I hate getting calls from 508 numbers continuously through the day because I don't have the money to pay off my credit cards. And they just don't seem to understand... If I don't pick up my phone the first time, it usually means I don't want to talk to you. And after not answering my phone for the seventh time today, they still don't get the fucking hint.

     It's okay though. I am not going to let financial problems get the better of me. At least I am trying. 

     Today, though it may not have been super productive, I did get some things accomplished. I paid my Netflix account. I called my school and forced enrollment so now I am officially a college kid. I did a load of laundry. I caught up on some of my favorite TV show episodes I missed. 

     I am a muthafukkin super hero.

     Life is too short to take seriously, and I for one, am laughing all the creditors in the face. Ha ha ha ha ha. 

     So, I say to you, fellow human being who probably has other unknown numbers breathing down your neck, cars that won't start, bills to pay, mouths to feed, other shit to do, and mountains you can't climb:

Resolution #006: Be proud of the small accomplishments in life. Finally pay that overdue credit card bill? Put a full tank of gas in your car? Got to work on time and didn't spill a single drop of your beloved coffee? Netflix good for another month? Reward yourself for those small feats. Hell, just reward yourself for making it through the day in one piece. Go get a beer. Eat some chocolate. Walk around the house naked. You deserve it. 

01.05.13

Bitch, please...

     I apologize in advance for whatever angry emotions might be diffused into this one particular post.

     It is amazing the different kinds of people walking this earth right now. Most of them don't even know how absurd they really are until someone like me just brutally calls them out on their delightful little flaws. 

     I obviously have no problem saying to ones face how ridiculous they are being. And I honestly don't care if that person looks at me like I am the biggest bitch they have ever met. They have a right to know how awful of a human being they are. 

     On a day-to-day basis I have to deal with these specific kinds of people. The complainers. The whiners. The bitch-ers. I hate those people for one specific reason. They are fucking idiots. Wasting everyone's time, including mine, especially their own, crying about something they need, something they don't have, time moving too slowly, time moving too quickly, something just isn't going exactly how they intended it to go.         Boo-fucking-hoo. 

     Maybe this post makes me a hypocrite because I am doing exactly what they do, only by myself, in my room, to a computer screen. And I am in fact complaining about complainers. Mind = BLOWN. 

     But let's just cut the shit for two whole seconds here, shall we?

     What purpose does a complaint have? 

     None. Zilch. Nada. None at all. 

     So why do people complain at all?

     Do you feel the need to speak your mind about how sorry your life is for having to actually wait in a line at Wal-Mart? Really?

     How about that awful traffic jam after you are finally out of work and just want to get home? Gonna lay on your horn for everyone to hear how fucking frustrated you are with life? 

     Feel better? Nope. That whining got you no where. That horn did nothing but piss off those people around you and make a few ears bleed. Good for you. Hope you're proud.

     I don't quite grasp the concept of why we are all so fucking angry all the goddamn time, flipping people off, bitching to our friends, co-workers, family, and just about anyone who is willing to listen to us whine about the horrors of our mediocre day. 

     My advice to you, angry customer who has to wait a whole two minutes before being rung out...

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Resolution #005: Quit your bitching. The world does not revolve around you and you can only move as fast as the person in front of you. Impatience, complaining, long exasperated sighs of frustration, and magical little cuss words are not going to make your life easier. I promise. Sorry, but your complaints are going to go unacknowledged. Instead, why don't you just sit back, eat a muffin, and fucking wait like the rest of us!

01.04.13

Work.

I apologize for the lateness on this... Unfortunately, work sucks and I have to actually be there if I want to get paid at the end of each week. So, this resolution is mainly about just that. 
I work retail, the worst and downright most frustrating industry to be worked. The public, even though I fall within that criteria of generalization, is fucking obnoxious.
Do I have to hold your hand to make a fax?
Why do you ask me the stupidest questions, unrelated to my department? I am not the service desk. I do not know off the top of my head which kinds of tape we have in stock. 
I work at Staples, in the Copy and Print center. I make fucking copies. Honestly, my six year old brother could do my job. Granted, there is more than meets the eye, but I basically feed pieces of paper into a machine so that the same piece of paper can be spit out again. Not rocket science.
But apparantly, the people who come into my place of work, do not grasp the simple concept of what happens behind my counter. And they have all collaborated with each other to come to me with their dire need for copies or whatever all at fucking once. Waves at a time. Wtf?
Don't get me wrong, I adore my job, mainly because it is the easiest job I have ever had in my life. And I worked at Walmart. 
It pays the bills, I have awesome hours (most of the time), and the people I work with are pretty spectacular. 
I try not to let the little things, like some lady yelling at me over screwed up lamination, bother me, even though that is the worst excuse to yell at another human being. 
I like to roll with the punches...

Resolution #004: Do your job and do it well. Don't be one of those half assers who only give minimal effort in everything they do. You may hate your job, just like the rest of us, but it is still a job. There are starving children in third world countries that get paid less to do a better job than you. With no breaks. Suck it up. Be a grown up. And get your shit done efficiently. You really don't have it as bad as you think you do.

01.03.13

The Minor Details...

     It is something you do every day. Whether you actually realize you are doing it or not. You read. The menu hanging above you at Dunkin' Donuts, the signs on the highway, the directions on the back of your Lean Cuisine box. You read every single day.

     Being a writer, I have a keen eye for detail. The whisper of a breeze, the tick-tick of a clock, the way the snow crunches beneath our feet. I can probably describe to you in intricate detail the very process of peeling an orange. And make it sound interesting. 

     And for my next trick... let all words be like a brilliant revelation to you. Read as often as you can, even if it is just directions on how to send a fax. But also, take this into real life context. Savor the little things. The minor details.

Resolution #003: Don't let anything slip away. Not a memory, not a song, not a book, not a dream. Cherish every single detail of every single day. There may not be too many left. And what a waste it would be if you didn't just open your eyes and see. Read. Love. Savor. Believe. Take the time to just soak in life for what it is. The bigger picture is easy to see, but the minor details are much more beautiful.

01.02.13

Be the Change...

     This one is for the lazy bums, the procrastinators, the putter-offers. I implore you, retire your holy sweats, log out of your Netflix, stop scrolling over the useless stories on Facebook that could never do anything for you except make you realize how ignorant some people can be, slap on some hot-girl disguise or throw on some Old Spice. This is the year for change. 
I believe people can change, but not if they aren't open to it. Not if they don't accept that they can change. 
Whether you change for the worse, or for the better, change now. And if it is for the worse, then it is up to you to turn it around. Some people have to experience the very bottom of the world before they can be on top of it.
     Last year, I was in an abusive relationship. Not physically abusive, but abusive nonetheless. 
But I had to be the one to stand up and change my situation. No more taking it lying down. No more bashing, name calling, throwing things across the room. 
     Today, I may be single, I may feel alone sometimes, but I am happy. Happy with myself. Happy with life. I'm not on the top of the world, and maybe I never will be. But at least I will be known as the girl who tried.

Resolution #002: Don't sit there and do nothing, waiting for something great to find you. Get the fuck up! Get out, and get going! Go be that something great. Go find that something great for yourself. And accept the change that comes with that greatness. Be awesome, and do it on purpose. 

01.01.13

Promises, Promises....

     What obnoxious oath have you taken upon yourself this "New Year?" Are you finally going to quit smoking? Maybe spend more time with your family/friends/lover? Are you going to man up and actually use a treadmill? Do you maybe want to Google that last term? Maybe your shop-a-holic ass just needs to cut up the credit cards and start saving green instead of blowing it. Maybe you want to travel the world, take the time to read a book cover to cover, or go all out and just do absolutely everything? 
     It is officially the year 2013. And some might proclaim this year to be unlucky, but I have taken it upon myself to go right ahead and flip those people off. 
     My personal new year's resolution actually has to do with me writing this. I have been writing since before I even knew what letters looked like, and it pretty much stands as all I know. So, obviously, a blog about new year's resolutions is the answer to all of my problems. Yeah!
     I am going to write a resolution, one for every day, until January 1st, 2014.
     Some will be incredibly insightful, others witty and funny, but a select few will just be sarcastically outrageous. 
     I promise to do my best to keep them gender-neutral, but unfortunately for you penis owners out there, I am a female. A 22-year old, in-your-face, take-no-shit-ever, vagina owner.
    So this is my advanced apology for my biased assumptions and point-my-finger mentality.
    I hope that at least one other person on the planet has the audacity to read my words. Because if not, my life will just be so incredibly sad. 

    Okay, here goes... enjoy, resolutors!! 

Resolution #001: Live FEARLESSLY! No more backing down. No more passing up. No more letting by. This is your life. Do not let fear of love, hate, success, failure, acceptance, rejection, change, pain, heartbreak, or anything else hold you back.