You can’t get out of a speeding ticket when the plane catches you.
Fucking Ohio, man.
The highway is littered with flashing lights this morning and I’m gonna be late to my exam.
Bulletproof coffee isn’t horrid, despite all that the recipe calls for. I hope its effects are like Monsters on steroids though. Watch me be awake all night now though, seeing as I’m a dumbass and decided to do my trial of it just now.
I have no clue how I managed to get a 91 on today’s exam, I can only hope I do a fraction of this with the other two exams remaining this week. I really need to learn how to study. Honestly, it would be easier for me to wish I had a photographic memory then to study with my schedule.
Is it Saturday yet?
I love how dudes try to impress me with something and my response is, I don’t even know what that is. You tell me about your boat and my first thought is, do you sing Boats and Hoes when you do whatever it is you do on a boat?
Strictly speaking, no, since I think we have enough proof that our thoughts and states of mind so dependably manifest as physical realities. If they are forms of denial, they’re my favorite forms of it.
Barney Stinson might be my soulmate, I mean he’s gay IRL and let’s face it, the gays know how to treat me like a princess, we won’t talk about the fucking. At least they don’t mind me straying to get that elsewhere. This was talked about on Easter, if my gay’s life partner leaves and I’m single at 40 we’re shacking up because we are the same.
To say that this past weekend wasn’t an epic shit storm of mind fuckery is an understatement. I’m trying to not let something bother me, because really there is nothing to get my panties in a bunch over until late next month when I actually have to face the potential. I’m really hoping there is no potential, hence why I need to stop placing thoughts towards it. It doesn’t help that I decided to drink, because drinking doesn’t change my mood, it enhances my current mood to an extreme. Oh well, it was delicious.
My gay that I spent Easter with told me such a huge secret that I don’t know how to handle it. He was emotional because his life partner was with family and his family is all in Texas, he started getting teary eyed and told me that I’m like his best friend and told me what he’s been dealing with for a little while, it wasn’t what I had thought it was. I was blown away, but it made sense after I recalled things, but now I’m part of something that only he, his family and his life partner have known about. Why do people tell me these things?! It doesn’t change him in my eyes, I don’t know how he isn’t a basket case though. After he let it settle and me ask questions I told him what’s potentially going on with me, I’ve kept this under wraps, because I don’t want to worry or have others worry. He told me that he would go with me and have a flask pouring vodka down my throat while shit is going down.
Maybe cryptic post will be therapeutic and I can stop thinking about it. Maybe I should put my thought into the first true date I’ve agreed to go on in like forever this coming Sunday after No Lobby 2.0.
And I know this because after a dude won’t get the hint of me ignoring his messages on a dating site sends me yet another I finally respond with, “no, please look elsewhere and not at me again.” Only to get an instant response of.. “Hahahahaha. Whatever FATTY!” Not only do I know my Dbag radar is spot on, but rather then send a clever retort I just hit block user and go back to my drink.
I’m gonna party so hard tomorrow night and give zero fucks. My brain has been fried and I need to let the stress of preparing for next week go, so I’m gonna be irresponsible as fuck and live it up.
My family isn’t doing anything for the holiday. My mom is off to who knows where, and no one else in my family has invited me to dinner, so I’m gonna have Easter with one of my gays. Champaign and filet mignon, don’t mind if I do.
I woke up startled as fuck in the middle of the night because I saw The Geek in my dream. Zero clue what the dream was about, because I’m pretty sure as soon as I saw his face I jumped. Brains are weird, but then again mine is directly wired to my vagina.
The semester needs to end. I only have a three week break, but I have to make so many various doctor appointments and schedule tests during that time I might as well not have a break from school.
It really looks like I’ll be moving this summer. I have yet to figure out how I’m gonna make time when I’ll be in school full time and working full time, but I imagine it will all work out. Not like I own much, but sex toys, lubes, shoes, purses, make up and scarves are precious fucking cargo to me.
I got some upsetting news today that sent me back in time to right after my car accident. I was lying in a hospital bed doped the fuck up and listening to my father repeatedly tell me how lucky I am to be alive. I wasn’t feeling much thanks to the drugs at the time, but man oh man I was basking in a lot of self pity and I remember thinking, really? Why am I so lucky?
This was my darkest time that I recollect, darker then when I was on the prescribed drugs that made me wish for a tragic accident. The ironic part is that while I contemplated my only story being survival I wanted nothing to do to change it. I wanted to dwell in my bad luck. I would dwell for days about how shitty I thought my life was. How I’m a bastard. How I’m fat. How I’m unwanted. How I cried that I couldn’t walk on my own and how I had a fear that people would see me in a wheelchair and believe its because I’m morbidly obese rather than I wasn’t strong enough yet to use a walker while grocery shopping. How my life sucks because my parents aren’t healthy like most people’s and I’m stuck taking care of them and preventing me from living my life.
I honestly think this depression spout lasted for at least a year. The most I had to be excited about in my life was therapy progression; the day I got a cane was a happy day and I thought that was pathetic to be happy about. I want to go kick my past self’s ass for this, because those six months of therapy were some of the most challenging moments of my life, not just physically, but mentally and I didn’t acknowledge it. I disregarded how strong I was, because even depressed I was fighting for something more. Weird how that works.
After the accident my parents claimed I had changed, no shit, assholes. They blamed all the hard drugs I was on and believed that they altered me forever. Um, okay. I didn’t have withdraws or anything, so I highly doubt that was the case. I changed because I had the chance to recollect on how I was wasting my life. How could I not think this while I grew up hearing stories of my dads younger days. How all my friends were already married (now divorced, btw) and living their lives. But I still felt stuck in my circumstances or guilted into them from the almighty power of manipulation, so I wanted change, but didn’t seek it.
I only got the change after my dad passed. He might have died young by today’s standards, but I remember sitting by his bed and hearing people tell stories of the things he did and accomplished in his 64 years. The stories kept coming at his viewings and during his church service (his stories are still being brought up this many years after his death), and I decided that I want my own stories. I wanted to live a memorable life, mainly for myself, so if I do grow old I can recollect on my times and feel that my life didn’t just pass me by as I sat longing idly by on the sidelines wishing for something more. I wanted what he had, people to talk and laugh about things that I did that they will never forget, I wanted to touch people somehow, not just sexually.
I don’t even remember the exact point to this post now except how much I’ve changed. I use to make a lists of why my life sucks, not I make daily gratitude journal entries for all the things I’m thankful for. There is always something to be grateful for and it took me a long time to figure this out. I may not have everything at this moment in my life that I want at my fingertips, but that doesn’t mean I won’t have those things and I will have those things, because I don’t give up. I might have got a little upset and bitter for a few minutes today, because it isn’t fair, but I’m getting it out and I will just keep moving forward. It could always be worse, I could have been permanently disabled, so I’m just gonna live my life to it’s fullest and keep trying to create memories until the gimp gets me down. .
What I’m really terrified of is leading an average, ordinary life with a regular job and an invariable routine, planned holidays, an average household, fixed responsibilities and not doing anything different to be remembered by.
It’s Selfie From The Toilet Glamour Shot Day!
My face isn’t flushed, it’s red from tanning. I seldom get embarrassed.
Sometimes you wanna help someone, but you realize that it’s really pointless, because they won’t believe you, or they’ll get defensive or worse be so upset that you’re genuinely concerned that they take the concern as jealousy over love/care. You’ve been watching it for months and not the only one who sees or is concerned. It’s sad, really. Just as sad as my trying to use grammar.
Dunkin Donuts has cookie dough ice cream flavored ice coffee and it’s a good thing I don’t have issues getting naked in front of dudes, because I’m gonna make this my bitch this summer and definitely not gonna go dry. I do need to find a replacement sex friend who won’t call it making love though until I find my future relationship…
I better get back to work before this girl thinks I’m taking a dump. Little does she know it’s just a high definition selfie.
You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door on the past. You don’t try to forget the mistakes, but you don’t dwell on it. You don’t let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space.
I’m torn between check yourself or I spot the fake and it doesn’t look good, it’s worse then the thing most of us already mock.
Micro ruined my nails that took me three times to paint last night before my OCD would stop nitpicking. And this is why I pay people to do my nails, well that and I judge bitches for gnarly nails.
I totes crashed hard last night like I knew I would and missed geeking over the blood moon.
Tumblr has this habit of pissing me off when you guys enable self destructive behavior with your validating. Open your fucking eyes and maybe pay a little closer attention rather than slapping a heart or writing an ignorant comment.
Different with a side of poor grammar.
An adult store personal shopper or sexpert/ sexual educator.
A serial first dater.
A nursing student.
Trying to be positive while disappointing the masses.