This is in response to a fellow classmate who explained that when she read work written by others who are younger than herself, she never really takes it seriously. She described it as being, “Cute.” Now, this is of course not a rant towards this student and I made sure to make my opinion clear in class. However, this is in response to hearing this a lot throughout life.
This is a big pain point for me, not that I get riled up and want to fight someone about it, I just find it incredibly disappointing. I find it disappointing because right off the bat someone is judging me for something that really shouldn’t matter in my writing. It is the same as someone saying, “When I read something written by a woman, I just think…that’s cute.” Thats a huge problem, I mean, I’m not offended, that is an opinion. However, as a reader or an artist, I believe one shouldn’t cut something off for those reasons. And to say someone younger cannot be as equally mature or reflective is downright absurd.
Not everything written by a teenager is going to be gold. However, not everything written by someone middle-aged is going to be groundbreaking. I can think of a lot of adults who’s ability to critically think and analyze one’s world around them…does not exist.
Maybe it was just me, but as a teenager, I knew I didn’t have all the answers and it absolutely frustrated me every day. So I wrote and wrote and wrote, I wrote to seek answers. There was an arrogance of that age. An arrogance of trying to prove all the grown-ups who told me anything I did was, “cute” that I would try even harder to prove them wrong. And then I learned it didn’t matter, it wasn’t about me. That was on them and I shouldn’t create something so I can gain the respect of someone, I should make something that speaks to me in that moment right then. And if respect or acknowledgment comes from making it, then bonus points for me.
People spoke of being embarrassed by their writing from when they were younger. And yes, I am too at times when I read old journals. However, I feel there is a wisdom there that is lost. The unending courage to write something that could be laughed at because it spoke to me then. I miss that. I think we forget the struggle of being young and being told you won’t “understand” until you’re older. Its an agonizing waiting period. And I think maturity and reflection do not come with age, it comes with experience and courage and an ability to lose the pride a little. And I know the story of growing up quicker than others all to well, so please, do not stick me in a folder of “cute”. I think we are embarrassed because we remembered the mistakes we had to make to learn.
I don’t think we should ever be embarrassed of our ages when creating art or anything. I think a lot of teenagers or young people or whoever, don’t reach for things because they are so frequently told that they won’t really understand anything until they are older. Whats the point of even trying if immediately you are shot down? I don’t regret any of the art I’ve made previous to this. The only stuff I do regret is when I wrote something that wasn’t true, something that was trying to impress someone else. Those stories are what came out loud-mouthed and awful.
I find myself doing it at times though, when I have a lower class-man complaining about their dorm situation and I think, “Oh man, you think that’s tough?” And I have to stop myself because, hey, who am I to judge? Maybe its really messing up their days. I don’t know their day to day life, who the fuck am I to judge? I mean, I’ve never felt my age. I’ve never felt like an 18 year old or a sixteen year old or a 23 year old I never really dealt with cliques or popular cheerleaders, I went to a Performing Arts High School where everyone kind of sucked and some people were just douche-bags while others were nice/chill people. I never had myspace statuses declaring my love for a boy I’d been only dating for two days. Because even as a teen I knew I had no clue what love was and frankly, I’d wanted to leave that confusion for later.
I just don’t want to reach a point of that arrogance where I become stone and unable to evolve and change my point of view. Because I don’t think its very productive. I’d like to surrounds myself with hard-working people who create lovely things whether they are 90 or 11.
Filed under: Real Life, Regular | Tags: 10 lbs, body image, fat, not fat, weight
So when I went to the Doctors a little while ago, I found out in a years time I’ve gained ten pounds. It could have been a shorter time than that but I don’t own a scale so I couldn’t give you an exact time frame.
And for the first time I was shocked.
First of all where did the ten pounds go? Is it all in my butt? No, my butt has always been this size. And my pants fit the same as usual.
The nurse saw my confused look when she told me my weight and quickly explained, “But you had your shoes on and your clothes.” And I laughed slightly thinking, yeah like those weigh a whole ten pounds but I was really thankful that she thought to comfort me. And I thought of all the girls she had to comfort before me and it made me really sad. I don’t worry about weight things, I never have.
I’ve always considered myself slightly husky (I’m a built a bit wider than other girls. I’ve always had big upper arm muscles, a wide chest, and wide shoulders), whether I was or not. This is my morphed perception of myself, and its not something I cry about and say, “OH I’m SO fat!” Because I know I’m not fat. And I don’t need an emotional pet-talk or an ego petting (but it never hurts). It is just how I see myself, its like little deep part of me that crawls out in how I look at things and tries to visually make me feel insecure. I don’t really over-eat, I’m not a person who ever feels guilty after eating something (except that one time when I ate this really bad popcorn at a wrestling show, that was kind of the worst stomach ache in the world). However, when I’m feeling nice about myself, I just say I’m a little more curvy than girls my size.
Food is a treasure to me. I love food. I could describe certain foods like I describe my favorites novels.
I’ve never starved in my life. But when I moved out and went to College at 18, I didn’t necessarily eat as much as I should. I’m a forgetful eater, sometimes I would go a whole day and realize I only ate an apple and that was it. Going from class to work and back to class again, was tough on me. Especially throwing myself into a new environment where I barely knew anyone. I struggled with financial aid with my school and I slept very little due to stress. With issues happening back at home that were out of my control, I was feeling the pressure. That was my first year. I didn’t gain the Freshman 15 pounds, I lost weight. I had to set reminders so I wouldn’t forget to eat and scraping by with a retail job pay didn’t always give me a lot of options for food. So I ate small and sporadically. I lived in the dorms, so I couldn’t make full meals, I had a meal card but the cafeteria gave me the pukes three different times. So my weight pretty much stayed the same for a few years.
So what happened a year ago? What changed?
Well, I have been out of school for a full year and it was great. It stinks that I don’t have my degree still due to financial reasons but it was a breather to not worry about that stuff for a while. I also got a better job than my last one. And this job has been awesome to me. It has encouraged me to be myself and be my best self. I work with people I wish I could stick in my pocket and keep with me forever (in a non-creepy-stalker-serial-killer sort of way). I make a-(excuse my french)-POOP ton more than I did at my retail job (which still is not a lot but I pay my bills and loan payments and don’t have to worry about them ever not getting paid). I also have full medical coverage, eye coverage, and dental coverage. And I never had to worry about my checks and when it they are arriving.
My previous job, checks would bounce on a regular basis. I was visiting home, after Christmas (I worked over X-mas because I needed to make the money to pay rent while I was away), and my work check BOUNCED. Not only messing up my rent check but also making me completely and utterly broke in New Jersey. I found out while I had gone out to a diner with my friend Devon and my card was denied when paying for the check. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Was my first though when I checked my bank balance on my mobile phone. I wanted to crawl in a dark hole to die.
That is the sort of small business I worked for. And it was stressing me out really bad. When I got back to Chicago it was only a few weeks later that I quit. Granted, I quit after my hours where cut from about 30-35 hours to almost 15. I cried my eyes out, because I loved the job, I didn’t like the place I worked at but my job was awesome and I did like the people I worked with. But it was the punch in the boob I needed to get the hell out of there.
And then my beautiful opportunity arrived when the Universe was looking at me and saying, “Yo, I’m knocking at your door so you better answer.” I was lucky to get this job and I treasure every second having it. Its not that I don’t think I deserve this job but I’m sure there were a thousand more people more qualified than me. I am happy I did prove my worth and got the job. I started out as a temp and was hired. When I got the call, I high-fived everyone in the train car I was in. And that is kind of what this job has felt like. Granted, I’ve been stressed at times but its not something that is ever permanent or consistent, most of the time the stress in induced by me over-thinking and panicking.
I’ve got a pretty dang awesome boyfriend who doesn’t stress me out either. Its nice dating a real human who is smart and knows things.
I’ve got an awesome apartment (it has skylights and stuff and is way cheaper than my previous apartment I had in the same neighborhood!) and awesome roommates.
I am also going to school this September to finish my degree and with financial aid on my side and scholarship from my school, I am set. There hasn’t been sleepless nights wondering how I’m going to get a loan with no cosigner.
So I’m not stressed and I can afford to buy myself food (a decent amount of it too). Could this be the cause of my 10 pounds? The Freshman 15 I never gained? AM I LITERALLY LIVING FAT AND HAPPY?
My roommate did mention that I also work a night schedule, I work 3pm to Midnight. He worked a night job as well and explained how he gained weight too. It messes with your metabolism and you have to figure out the right balance of snacking and meal time that works.
But I like to think I’m just living fat and happy.
Sometimes, I feel a little insecure about it and I get scared. Of what, I couldn’t really say. But I must recognize it is a little on the high-ish side, and I should make sure that while I am always happy with how I look, I should always stay healthy (so maybe three bags of cookies from the vending machine isn’t a good idea.) And I also need to recognize, with my sit down office job, I’m not as active as I was when I was running around like nutcase for my retail job or for school. I think that’s what I’m mainly worried about, I don’t want be unhealthy (well at least not so much unhealthy because I still really love Cinnamon buns and pizza. WAIT, guys, there should be cinnamon bun PIZZA! Just without the cheese and pizza sauce.). So for now, I ‘m working on a good eating schedule at work so it doesn’t mess with my metabolism or at least to get it back on track as it should be.
Filed under: Real Life | Tags: equal rights, gay, hate, heterosexual, homosexual, junkyard dogs, lesbian, love, marriage, straight, the moment I knew, Well whats so great about Heaven anyway?
I get this question a lot, “When did you first know you were straight?”
And I remember a story from my childhood that I think really explains that moment very well. Now I don’t entirely remember this story as a memory, because I was pretty young but in my heart of hearts, I think this was the moment that I KNEW. My mother tells this story better than me but I’ll channel her over the– (how many miles is it again, Mama?)–and do my best.
I was little, I’m going to say three or four and I was in an AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meeting with my mother, not attending but more so just being a baby and being with my Mom (although the joke will always been I’ve been in AA all my life). And I was leaning against my mother while we listened to someone speak of their time. I had a pacifier in my mouth which was actually prescribed by a dentist because I had a Caveman under bite that would make an Orge laugh. Don’t get me wrong I was cute but damn, that under bite is hilarious in pictures. So I’m sucking on my pacifier and having myself a good ole time with my blanket, when a black man walks into the meeting and takes a seat a bit ways from where we were sitting.
My mother says, as she imitates my motions, that I sat up quickly and popped my binky (pacifier) out of my mouth. She said I was very calm but wouldn’t take my eyes off him. And I just wiggled out of her grip, and shimmied right off the bench we had been vacating. She said I just kept staring at him as I said, “I’m going to go sit over there.”
“By that man!”
“By that black man! I’m going to sit over there.”
And so I did. I sat next to him the whole meeting with my hands folded and just staring up at him. He probably thought I was the silliest thing. I was hardly a subtle child but I like to this that maybe this was my first crush.
I think I also knew the moment I saw Shawn Michaels wrestle on WWF. He was much older than me but his playful smile won my heart. There was a long time where I secretly had plans to become a professional wrestler just to meet him.
And I knew I was straight when a boy first told me he like-liked me too and I thought, surely, this is the moment where my heart will deflate from relief. He has really pretty blue eyes I couldn’t look at without blushing and I always did my best to secretly always take the seat next to him. And I knew it when that same boy hurt me with disappointment in his actions (BRINGING CIGARETTES TO SCHOOL IN THE THIRD GRADE?! YOU KIDDING ME?).
I knew I was straight when I kissed a girl and just thought…meh.
And I knew when, I was terrified, knowing I could love a boy and they can so easily hurt me. How dare they have that power, who do they think they are?
And I knew it wasn’t wrong because everyone told me it was right. I loved the “right way”. Barbie and Ken smiled up at me from their dream home in Malibu and waved from their straight loving hot tub (now with bubbling action!). And I always questioned what was the “wrong way”?
I knew I was straight when I learned what it meant to be gay.
“Rose and Susan. They aren’t just friends.” My cousin explained to me as we played in the bath tub. I had just been taught what a period was and now I was learning the relationship between my father’s next door neighbors. My cousin whispered, “They are like boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“But they are two girls?” I asked in a confused tone.
“Yeah but they are together like that, like a boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“Oh.” And then it clicked. I understood. And it made sense why they held hands, “Oh okay.” I nodded and whispered and I wondered why we had to whisper this. And I didn’t think it was bad, I just didn’t realize that existed. And I accepted it into my small childhood bubble of things that are in the world.
And it was church that told me otherwise but I just could not believe it. I mean first, telling me all of my pets would never go to Heaven and then telling me that my dad’s nice neighbors were abominations? Listen, maybe I could take not having my pets in Heaven but Rose and Susan are good people. And I liked their chocolate lab named Bailey who would frequently come visit neighbors just to saw hi and get a treat. And I like the little dock they had off their yard that they let us kids play on. And they don’t get to go to Heaven? Well whats so great about Heaven anyway?
I was happy to find my mother really understood me and my heterosexuality. I was happy to know she didn’t blame herself for my heterosexuality and that it wasn’t a choice but that I was born this way. And she really got to know all of my boyfriends and made them feel welcomed.
Honestly. I don’t get it. I don’t understand or get it. How can you just let your child go out to the wolves and not care? How can you stand and say someone is not allowed to love the person they love? I don’t care who said it was wrong, who said that person is right? Why are we treating others differently? This is my rant part. This is where I get mad. This is where I say there are no second class citizens and we should stop treating others like it. People should marry the person they love and they should also be allowed to Divorce the person they do not love anymore. Life is so short. It is so goddamn short.
Why are we so worried about such unimportant things. Go read a book and smile and laugh and look how infinite the sky seems and how tiny you really are. It is so fleeting and people are snarling at each other like packs of starving junkyard dogs. How does it effect you how that person loves another person? Go paint a picture and wear socks that don’t match and try and memorize the feeling of sand between your toes. Live your life and don’t hinder others. It doesn’t effect you. Your children can so easily leave you, who cares who they love, doesn’t it only matter how you love them? Your children are a gift, not something for you to shape and mold however you like, to use and abuse and then toss aside with they are the round peg that won’t fit in your square hole. Draw a picture with them, watch a movie together, hug them, hold them when they are terrified, what else matters? It doesn’t stop you from catching butterflies or playing tag in the backyard.
Let people be.
What is so hard about that?
So there. There was my rant and there was my soap box. It probably doesn’t make much since and when I try to be clever, it doesn’t always work. I just can’t stand it.
Filed under: Real Life | Tags: cat circus ringleader, comic book creator, real life, the future, too many choices for a career, when I grow up, which way?
I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
No that isn’t true.
I have a million things I want to be when I grow up…
2. Clothing Designer
4. Comic Book Creator
7. Craft project master
10. Cat Circus Ringleader and Owner (it would be science fiction themed)
11. Animal Activist
12. People Activist
13. 24 hour Coffee shop and laundromat owner
14. Vegetarian (I just have to give up Chicken, I’m almost there. I have to stop giving in)
15. A puppeteer
16. Drag queen clothing designer.
It goes on forever. And I feel like there is too much. I don’t know where to start first. I have my whole life ahead of me and it still doesn’t seem like enough time. I don’t fear Death, I just wish it would make an appointment so I can get everything done before she shows up. Like cleaning my bedroom to begin with.
I’m at a very awkward point in my life and I thought being a teenager had been tough. I’m stuck int he middle and it doesn’t make me sad, I just find it incredibly irksome. I’m almost done with college, so close I want to steal my diploma and I’ll most likely be able to finish it next year. That is, if everything works out, which sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t. It hasn’t gone so well with school, college, I mean, but I’ve had a lot of awesome people helping me and cheering me. I think of them and I just get so empowered and I just want to show them how much it means to me and finally freaking graduate.
I think I went about College in the wrong way. I didn’t necessarily picka career I knew whole heartedly I was going to get paid to do. I picked some that I was interested in and wanted to learn more about and become better at. I think I did that wrong. However, I don’t regret it. Frankly I’d rather go to school for something I know I am going to do for the rest of my life than for a career (knowing myself) I would get bored with at 30. And that might be wrong but I’m happy with it. I’m so happy with it, I don’t care that I’m poor. Maybe I would think differently if I had kids but I don’t. I only need to worry about my own mouth to feed.
I always feel like time is slipping away from me and I just haven’t done enough yet. I’m still really young but time goes too quickly. Its there one second and then already a year has gone by. Where do I begin?
I have a lot of fears in this world. Such as…
1. Being left alone in small room with a pony and/or horse.
2. Naked clowns.
4. Being buried alive
5. Some else having say over my body and what I do with it
7. Sleeping through the end of the world
But none of those seem to compare to time and just not having a enough of it. There is so much to do and so little time. I just don’t ever want to waste a second.
Where do I begin?
Filed under: Musings, Real Life, Regular | Tags: alice in wonderland, definite decision, Forever is a very long time, getting a tattoo, Inked, little mermaid, Mermaid, shits and giggles, tattoo artist, Tattoos
I often get asked why I get tattoos or why I get so many tattoos.
Simple. I am not afraid of forever. Because I know I will not live here forever. We are here and gone in such a blink of an eye, why be so terrified of such a definite decision? I am not afraid of any decision I do now because I believe in myself. I know when I make a decision I have worked out what works for me. Because who knows me better than me? NO ONE and I will never hear otherwise.
I will never allow myself to have regrets. If I did not speak when I should have, I will not allow that to pull me back. I will learn from my mistakes. So there will never be a tattoo I will regret because everyone was an important choice I made that I thought through that I loved in that moment. Its a timeline on my arm that I’m not terrified of people seeing.
And you know why I will never ever regret a single tattoo? Because every single one has a meaning. I will not be getting a tattoo of raggedy ass unicorn just for shits and giggles one night on a whim. Every tattoo will be a reflection of myself, whether it be a pinpoint of where I am right at that moment or where I hope to be a billion years from now. And you know what, that tattoo that represents me a million years from now might just be raggedy ass unicorn. And it will be fucking majestic. Because it is mine.
Currently, I am working on a full sleeve on my right arm. My tattoo artist is my father and we’ve gone with a fairy tale theme to represent important people in my life. So far I have Little Red Riding Hood, Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, and my newest the Little Mermaid. Its sort of a story itself, getting my tattoos done by my dad, they mean a lot more and I’m really proud of his work. And I am proud that I get to show off his art.
I get tattoos not just because I want to look like a bad ass (because I look that way without them). I get them because of their history. I remember reading about how in China, one would get tattoos to expel demons and evil spirits. In other cultures tattoos represent title and journey. I get tattoos because of my history and my culture and the story I want to tell others just by a glance.
I am often asked if it hurts. Others who get tattoos will say it doesn’t hurt, while others will talk about how much they cried. I’m a mix, sometimes tattoos hurt more than others, emotionally and physically. Other tattoos I was able to listen to Lady Gaga and go dancing after.
I wonder if I get asked so much because people are curious whether I like the pain or not, maybe I have some needle fetish. I don’t. I still need two nurses to hold me down to get blood drawn and I still cry like a big baby. And I don’t enjoy pain but I know how to endure it and it doesn’t scare me like it use to. I understand what pain is and I know what it isn’t. It is not a tool for me to feel something or to spark some deep emotional revelation. However, pain is something to learn from because you will instantly forget how much something hurt (you’ll remember that it did hurt, but that feeling will be gone, erased from you by your own mind). So its good to know what you learned from that.
I like to say if I can say yes to something on me forever, I can stand being with a person forever. That I can like myself forever. I am stuck with this body for a very longtime or it just might be a very short time. But this body is only a reflection of me. Its like a pretty okay book cover for a really awesome story that just isn’t finished quite yet. Its a work in progress. And thats what we all are. So I’m going to have some fun with my cover and make myself a bestseller (that sounded slightly dirty).
Even if tattoos aren’t your thing, they are not a bad thing. Don’t hate. And I get tattoos because I fucking want to. And I’m not hurting anyone else by getting them. Well I guess no one else except for myself but I know me best and I know I can take it.
This is sort of sloppy, I apologize (currently on vacation!)
Filed under: Crochet, Real Life | Tags: grandma, gryffindor scarf, lightning effects, lion dance video, new stitches, procrastination, scarves, sewing machine, sewing projects, slytherin scarf, starcraft 2
Okay, okay, so the lion dance video is coming. I promise. I’m almost done editing. I just really need to get the lightning effects down. But seriously it is almost done. It just took a lot of procrastination to actually get it shot.
However, I’ve been out of sorts because I promised myself I wouldn’t post here until that video was done. That si only fair right?
Well fuck it.
I really want to write so I’m going to and the video is halfway done so its not like I’m breaking a promise. Not to mention that none of you even knew about the promise until I just mentioned it now. So there. Take that and cash it at the bank.
Now I kind of don’t know what to talk about…
I MADE SCARVES.
Yes, I have made lots of scarves. I’ve been on a crocheting kick like a Grandma ghost has been possessing me.
Here are some of those projects….
I think my sewing machine may have been broken in my move to my new place but I’m not so sure yet, I have to give it a good once over. Something might have just fallen out of place. So all sewing projects are currently being done by hand and that takes much longer.
Also, I’m designing a scarf inspired by the Zerg species from Starcraft 2. I like it because I’m trying out a bunch of new stitches…and they are not coming out too terrible either!
This should have been better.
Filed under: Real Life | Tags: adult, appearance, cat gifs, good dance songs, lion costume, panic, white girl moves
Its pretty hard to get me to blush.
And looks like you all will be seeing it very soon.
I’m actually pretty excited to put on my lion costume and dance in front of a camera.
Thanks to everyone I hit over a 1,000 views! WHOO! It also beat my record of most visit in one day, 50!
Can I get some suggestions on some good dance songs?
So watch these cat gifs while I shoot for my big appearance.
Filed under: Real Life, Sewing | Tags: Anal, awkward cats, coy smile, cupcake hair, Fantomex, Fantomex is stupid, hair dye, hello kitty debit card, over-analytical, pink hair
Sometimes I think I’m getting insulted and I don’t really realize it. I don’t know if it is the natural “Oh I forgot to give a fuck what your opinion is” that the east coast injects into your blood stream upon birthage. Or if if I am just not being insulted and am just finding how people say certain things, slightly insulting. Meaning maybe I’m just too damn analytical.
Here is the most recent situation that comes to mind first….
I was dying pink hair dye one day at this punky-sort-of-too-cool-for-you-shop (but the only shop that carries this awesome hair dye and I’m stickler for not paying shipping). I have my hair dye in hand as I wait at the counter and a girl come over with red and black hair. She rings me up and reads the color name, “Cupcake Pink, huh?” I shrugged with an awkward smile, “Yeah I decided to be a bit girly and get pink, I guess. Haven’t done pink yet.” She nods her head. I lift my fading bangs and say, “I did blue green before but it faded to this super gross green color with my blond hair so I thought pink would be a safe bet because it has a nice fade.” She nodded as she punched the numbers in and said, “Yeah I would never do green because I wouldn’t want my hair to ever look like shit.”
I paused for a moment and assessed that sentence. She just basically told me my hair looked like shit without really saying that. I arched an eyebrow and handed over my Hello Kitty Debit Card (yes, I’m twenty-two years old and fucking love Hello Kitty). She looked at my card, looked at me, and looked at my hair dye and said, “You know, everyone who has this card gets this color. Not surprising.” Now she also said this with a dead flat tone. Not like a coy smile and joking nudge nudge. If she said it like that I would have laughed and probably agreed. Instead I looked at her even more confused wondering why for some reason she felt I had to lift her expectations of people who dye their hair pink and the mild connection it might have to hello kitty. I’m just here to buy some fucking hair dye lady, not to entertain you.
She bags my item and says, “I would use this color, just to tell people it was called cupcake. But I would never dye my hair pink, too bad.” I stood there for a moment with the item in my hand still not sure if I was just blatantly being insulted or if this person was just completely unschooled in the idea of how to rule the awful world of retail.
I put it in my head like this. If someone was buying a Fantomex comic and was like, “I really like fantomex.” I wouldn’t be like, “Yeah, I would buy a Fantomex book to tell people I have but I would never actually read the thing.” And then when I see he or she has a picture of Grant Morrison on their Capital One credit card (I just learned there is a way to customize those things) I would look at it with a flat face and say, “Huh, everyone who has this card buys a Fantomex comic. Not Surprising.”
All right, maybe comics isn’t a good example but that is for the most part my retail experience….there was a small run for a little while were I sold sex toys but I think that would make for an awkward analogy (Did you ever realize that word had anal in it? I didn’t until I put those two scenarios together!).
None of that really has to do with the point but I’m just curious, was this just her not having easily to interpret social skills or was I just snubbed by a chick that works in a shop that smells like leather and hotdogs? I can never freaking tell! I guess I just always hope the best out of people, like maybe I have completely wrong. I always question my gut (unless its about food, never question your gut when it is about food).
And the fact that she might of insulted me doesn’t bother me, its the fact, that I’m not sure. I still dyed my hair pink and have kept it pink and plan to keep it pink, her possible mockage of this has not deterred me in anyway (however, it has pushed me to seek my dye through the internet). I could have it completely wrong though, she could just have been sick that day and laughter and tone may have been lost to cold medicine and here I am questioning her skills as a co-worker in the funhouse called retail. She could be the most sunshiny person on the days she isn’t slinging mucous. I just wish I could look to my left and Regis Philbin will be there with his Who Wants To Be a Millionaire desk and then that times up music plays suddenly and either “A) You’ve been Insulted” or “B) You’re looking too much into it” flashes as the correct answer.
It really doesn’t matter, alls well that ends awkwardly, I guess.
In other news, my next big project after I’m done making x-mus presents, is….
Snuggle Soft Winter War Helmets!
Possible designs included:
Filed under: Musings, Real Life, Regular | Tags: Commissions, disagree, League of Legends, life update, nice to be nice, Sims 3
I’m nice because I like knowing I’m nice. Its selfish and oh so not at the same time.
I think I need to stop being nice.
My friend pat brought up, “Sam, you’re really good at telling people what they want to here. Please tell me when we’ve gotten to that point in our relationship.” Well, Pat, that would never happen with you because I like you. I’m not so sure how I feel about other people though. Maybe its a defense mechanism built inside of me, smile, nod, and agree. To me, if they really cared what I thought, they would ask or if I really cared about building a relationship I would disagree if I disagreed.
There are some people who will never realize, you know way more about them than they know about you.
When I disagree with someone, I either think that I really want to show them that they are being stupid and what logic actually is. Or I genuinely want them to know my opinion and thoughts ont he subject. Sometimes people prefer not to hear. So I smile and I nod and laugh when it is called for me to laugh. I wonder what is more mean, being outwardly a dick or being so polite it could kill them?
Maybe I should stop writing negative things about myself. Well I don’t think of this trait as so much as a negative. I can fairly mix well with most and I get my customer service job done everyday. I just think I need to learn that I don’t have to be friends with everyone. Or something like that. I should write more positives about myself.
I have nice eyes.
Oh great, now I’m going to get a big head.
In other news, my Sims 3 game is working again. And Marshall just became a vampire! Ah! Then this other thing happened where—okay, so maybe I’ve been playing it too much. Like Saturday night when I stayed awake till 2 or 3am playing…Well it was a very stressful night after a long day at TARGET, shopping.
I’ve also started playing this League of Legends game (got my Mac modded so I can play PC games on it now, thnx Hunter!). And I suck at it. I’m pretty terrible. And the trolls hate me. I tell them I think they have a nice personality and that I hope all their dreams come true. Most mean people don’t know what to say to that.
I’m working on my TWO comissions, yes, TWO. I have a LSP commission that I am almost done because I had some already pre-made LSP faces. And the Hobbes doll got set back when my Thai food spilled on one of the arms so I have to completely remake that arm. It sucks but now that I have conquered my sewing machine, nothing can stand in my way.
Oh and I’m moving! By the end of the month too. Happy Halloween, wanna help me drag my bed up the stairs with me? I will love you forever.
Okay so this is a terrible post with nothing interesting in it. I was working on a nerd rage rant about how I think costumes at Comic Cons are awesome and not weird but then I got bored. And I am not really raging about it.
I promise to post something interesting when I am finally level 6 in League of Legends.
Ps. Keep the party alive in your heart of hearts.
Filed under: Real Life, Regular | Tags: A/s/l, Belmont, Creepy guy on bus, flirting, Harry Potter, never make eye contact, question for men, rude, Stephen Fry, Threadless, weed
Men of the world! Let me ask you a question…
Actually no, I won’t ask you a question.
I will first tell you a story and THEN I will ask you a question.
So, I was on the bus the other day, prior to that bus ride (a few days or so before) I had purchase an adorable plaid dress that made me feel quite adorable. Few dresses really compliment my wide chest and short stature (I am 5’0″ ) and hips. So when I find a dress that really compliments me, I love it will all my heart of hearts. So here I am on the bus, wearing my cute plaid dress with a white button down, listening to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix as read by Stephen Fry (Oh, Mr. Fry, read me bed time stories every night, please?) on my way to Threadless store off of Belmont. As Neville Longbottom is explaining to Harry that him and his Grandmother believe him about Lord Volde-Poop-Head is back, I realize a man starring at me with bleary eyes and a crooked smile. I furrow my eyebrows and politely look away out the window. A few moments later I peak at him and he is still starring. This time though, he catches my eye (WARNING: You never want them to catch your eye because they take this as you would like to talk to him). And of course, he moves himself oer to the seat across from me and asks me something.
“I’m sorry?” I say as I pull my earbuds out and pausing so I don’t miss a beat in the story.
“What school you go to?” He asked with that smile. The kind of smile that makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. He was young, he had to be about my age (20 something).
“What?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing again. What kind of question was that? And then it sunk in, like brick of dry ice in my stomach, stinging and cold. He thought I was in High School or worse, younger! All because of my (use to be adorable) plaid dress. I cringed instantly and said, “Listen, I’m not in school. I’m 22.”
“Oh that’s cool.” And I could have sworn his hopes had fallen quite a bit. He then brightened up again and asked, “You smoke weed?”
And I was silent for a long time wondering what this was exactly. I shook my head slowly in a confused fashion, “No, sorry.”
“Okay, okay.” He said nodding his head as if checking some things off a list. He then asked, “What is your name?”
“My name is Samantha.” I said politely and my phone yelled at me telling me I had a text message. I pulled it out to read.
“Where is your man?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Your man, where is he?”
I half wanted to say in jail with a giant face tattoo and he was in there for killing a man who flirted with me on the bus. However I replied, “At work.”
“Oh that stinks.” Pause, “You gonna put my number in that phone?”
“No.” I stated as politely as possible.
“Because I am seeing someone, like I said.”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“Yes it will.” I said with deep significance and I hope he remembers my face when I said this. I wanted him to remember it always hurts more when someone doesn’t know. I hope the next time he cheats on a girl he remembers my face saying that. Or when a girl cheats on him he’ll remember. I doubt it though.
So in conclusion, he wouldn’t stop hassling me to put his number in my phone and finally my stop showed up so I just walked away.
Now here is my question to any guy who has every tried this: Has this ever worked for you? Being forceful and slightly rude?
And before you question me on why I was so polite. Hey, I don’t want to always assume someone is being creepy. I’ve met plenty of guys that are socially awkward when it comes to girls and I’ve always tried to be as polite and patient as possible. However, maybe I should have been a little more short with the ephebophillic gentleman.
Well anyway, I was just curious.