i'm putting a directory list for my boss' church
people which lists their names, members of their
families, contact numbers and email addresses...you
know...the regular bullshit.
And i'm noticing how these religious married people
SHARE their email addresses. You know, like
"thedavisfamily@..." or "johnandcarol@..." I mean it's
ONE email address for the both of them.
So at first I'm picturing myself in that situation and
thinking, "omg..that's horrible." No privacy. Whatever
I get as an email, he has access to it too. A loss of
individuality. My identity!
Or is it?
Is our individuality based on things that we do
"alone" as the term would suggest or is it really just
an emotional and spiritual level of comfort of who you
are within your own skin where your individuality
needn't be defined in solitude?
I place such a huge importance on being individual and
it makes me wonder if I know what it even means. I
mean, here I am...separated after 7 years of marriage,
in those 7 years trying to be "individual" with my own
email address and here are these people; thriving in
their family lives with their joint email accounts. I
mean....should I be pointing MY finger at THEM??
Of course there are so many factors to consider and we
can't ever judge a book by its dualnamed cover, but
sometimes I wonder....
All that to say is that I'm finding out that being
individual isn't so much a physical thing; although it
is important to have your "own" time. It's a mental
and spiritual thing and when only when you are happy
with who are can you truly be individual. Then it
wouldn't bother you to have a joint email. Because it
wouldn't matter.
And maybe we place TOO MUCH importance on this
individuality! Maybe we got it wrong and we pose some
unrealistic expectations on two people who are just
trying to make it work but we put SINGULAR
expectations on a PLURAL situation. Are our
expectations just setting us up to fail?
I am going through a shopping list (in the emotional store
from hell) of emotions. Confusion. Fear.
Insecurity. A newfound passion for life and the people
in it. Loneliness. Eagerness. Defeat. Strength.
Courage. Freedom.
But sometimes, i sit there and while I never regret
the years past, I am reluctant to move forward because
that would mean starting again and that would beckon
an answer to the question...
"now what?"
Of which I am not only without an answer, but also
without the desire to search or question myself for
one at this point.
And time waits for no one.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
My evening at the beach
It wasn't horribly eventful. It was pretty relaxing actually. Until I was started getting frostbite...
I sat there by the ocean in beautiful OB, playing my guitar right next to Lifeguard hut "4". I strategically placed myself between two bonfires of what i can only describe as "happy kids".
I'm sitting there and then I notice these two guys sitting at the lifeguard station and one of them is singing. Loud. And a spanish song to boot.
It totally threw me off my "Redemption Song" reggae set. I mean, how rude. Was he auditioning? Were we going to break out into a Santana video or worse, a musical? I don't even know any spanish songs. Except for LaBamba. And who wants to play that...
Then he left. Thanks for the serenade, mexican guy. But if you really wanted to impress me, you'd have sung redemption song in Spanish. How do you say "emancipate" in spanish?
So I kept on playing, feeling my hair frizz up as a result of the ocean air and then a couple came to sit on the lifeguard "4" stoop; exactly where Placido Domingo was. A young girl and a young guy. And guess what? SHE starts singing. I felt like Simon Cowell. It reminded me of the Bugs Bunny episode where the opera singer was practicing his singing and you could hear Bugs in the background beating away at his banjo. It was just bizarre.
Other than that, pretty uneventful. Saw some stoners walking barefoot in the streets. How could anyone walk barefoot without thinking they're going to get some foot disease? Is it just me? All I could think about was their gritty bedsheets. You just know it.
I sat there by the ocean in beautiful OB, playing my guitar right next to Lifeguard hut "4". I strategically placed myself between two bonfires of what i can only describe as "happy kids".
I'm sitting there and then I notice these two guys sitting at the lifeguard station and one of them is singing. Loud. And a spanish song to boot.
It totally threw me off my "Redemption Song" reggae set. I mean, how rude. Was he auditioning? Were we going to break out into a Santana video or worse, a musical? I don't even know any spanish songs. Except for LaBamba. And who wants to play that...
Then he left. Thanks for the serenade, mexican guy. But if you really wanted to impress me, you'd have sung redemption song in Spanish. How do you say "emancipate" in spanish?
So I kept on playing, feeling my hair frizz up as a result of the ocean air and then a couple came to sit on the lifeguard "4" stoop; exactly where Placido Domingo was. A young girl and a young guy. And guess what? SHE starts singing. I felt like Simon Cowell. It reminded me of the Bugs Bunny episode where the opera singer was practicing his singing and you could hear Bugs in the background beating away at his banjo. It was just bizarre.
Other than that, pretty uneventful. Saw some stoners walking barefoot in the streets. How could anyone walk barefoot without thinking they're going to get some foot disease? Is it just me? All I could think about was their gritty bedsheets. You just know it.
Things that irk me
So...what exactly does ".....(in my) heart of hearts" mean? It's retarded is what it is.
Bad grammar irks me. I mean, if you're over 12, you've studied grammar extensively (or you should have anyway) so there's really no reason to not know the proper use of "there" "they're" and "their". So quick lesson:
"Look over THERE." (a location)
"I'm going to THEIR house (proprietary...belonging to...)
"They're coming over for dinner" (a shortened form of THEY ARE)
There's (THERE IS) more, but I'm digressing...
People who misuse "literally" also irks me. To say something like, "my eyes literally popped out of my head", you'd better be looking like something out of Looney Tunes (like when they drink something that is way too hot). So, unless you're sitting in an emergency room somewhere, cupping your eyeballs so that you're not kicking them as you walk, it's pretty accurate to say, you've misused the word. And that irks me.
Unwiped countertops irk me. Crumbs are bad. They are not our friends. Their only friends are ants. And I hate ants too.
Tyra Banks irks me too. I really want to like her because she seems like a nice enough person who has no idea how self centered she really is and how she will have every conversation lead up to something about her. I really don't think she knows she's an asshole and I don't think anyone in her entourage has the balls to tell her. She's one of those famous people who say stuff like, "I'm just a normal person, just like everyone else." People who say that don't really believe their own bullshit, in fact, THEY'RE the ones who think they're special.
Religion and the rapture. I had never heard about the rapture until someone left a note on my windshield wiper. I'm not going to lie, it freaked me right out at first. I was expecting to see something on the news about it that night. But no...it was just another religious propaganda to scare people straight. That doesn't bother me actually. It sort of amuses me.
Yes, I've led a sheltered anti-religious life. All the jesus freaks I've been exposed to lately have made me feel like I'm in bizarro land. It's like this, I don't care if the rapture takes you or takes me...but one of us has to go. If the destination doesn't have too much humidity and open bar, I'll volunteer.
Pet therapists, and worse, people who buy that crap bother me. The Dog Whisperer on the other hand, is brilliant. He applies common sense to animal behavior. Who would have thought?
People who take up a parking space and a half. They deserve to find their side mirror under their windshield wiper.
Pedestrians who walk across the parking lot lane diagonally while you're trying to get past them in your car. If there's ever been a good enough reason to run someone over, it's then. I have to talk myself out of just jamming my foot on the gas.
Waiting more than 10 minutes after your appointment time. Do I need to define "appointment"?
Unruly children irk me. Real bad. Parents (and I used that term loosely) who let their kids run rampant like rabid poodles in restaurants. Is it wrong that I get this overwhelming urge to punt them like a football fieldgoal? AND do the little victory dance afterward? Is that wrong?
It also irks me when my neighbors' kids throw their balls against my windows and when the parent is confronted by a highly aggravated and pissed off 'me'; Instead of saying, 'sorry, I'll make them stop.', they say "Oh, if they break a window, we'll pay for it."
"Oh...okay then. Knock yourselves out, kids. And when you're done with the house, please feel free to move on to my car. No really, I insist."
Parents who allow their kids to 'drive' the shopping cart and are oblivious of the very real fact that their kids are "mowing" down other people, like me (the desire to punt is hard to resist). And you have to smile and bear it because they're kids and you don't want to propagate the reputation of being the neighhorhood "dragon lady". This is getting personal.
Do you f'in believe this?? Believe it. It makes my uterus say, "I want no part of this." I can LITERALLY hear my uterus talk.
And it uses proper grammar.
Bad grammar irks me. I mean, if you're over 12, you've studied grammar extensively (or you should have anyway) so there's really no reason to not know the proper use of "there" "they're" and "their". So quick lesson:
"Look over THERE." (a location)
"I'm going to THEIR house (proprietary...belonging to...)
"They're coming over for dinner" (a shortened form of THEY ARE)
There's (THERE IS) more, but I'm digressing...
People who misuse "literally" also irks me. To say something like, "my eyes literally popped out of my head", you'd better be looking like something out of Looney Tunes (like when they drink something that is way too hot). So, unless you're sitting in an emergency room somewhere, cupping your eyeballs so that you're not kicking them as you walk, it's pretty accurate to say, you've misused the word. And that irks me.
Unwiped countertops irk me. Crumbs are bad. They are not our friends. Their only friends are ants. And I hate ants too.
Tyra Banks irks me too. I really want to like her because she seems like a nice enough person who has no idea how self centered she really is and how she will have every conversation lead up to something about her. I really don't think she knows she's an asshole and I don't think anyone in her entourage has the balls to tell her. She's one of those famous people who say stuff like, "I'm just a normal person, just like everyone else." People who say that don't really believe their own bullshit, in fact, THEY'RE the ones who think they're special.
Religion and the rapture. I had never heard about the rapture until someone left a note on my windshield wiper. I'm not going to lie, it freaked me right out at first. I was expecting to see something on the news about it that night. But no...it was just another religious propaganda to scare people straight. That doesn't bother me actually. It sort of amuses me.
Yes, I've led a sheltered anti-religious life. All the jesus freaks I've been exposed to lately have made me feel like I'm in bizarro land. It's like this, I don't care if the rapture takes you or takes me...but one of us has to go. If the destination doesn't have too much humidity and open bar, I'll volunteer.
Pet therapists, and worse, people who buy that crap bother me. The Dog Whisperer on the other hand, is brilliant. He applies common sense to animal behavior. Who would have thought?
People who take up a parking space and a half. They deserve to find their side mirror under their windshield wiper.
Pedestrians who walk across the parking lot lane diagonally while you're trying to get past them in your car. If there's ever been a good enough reason to run someone over, it's then. I have to talk myself out of just jamming my foot on the gas.
Waiting more than 10 minutes after your appointment time. Do I need to define "appointment"?
Unruly children irk me. Real bad. Parents (and I used that term loosely) who let their kids run rampant like rabid poodles in restaurants. Is it wrong that I get this overwhelming urge to punt them like a football fieldgoal? AND do the little victory dance afterward? Is that wrong?
It also irks me when my neighbors' kids throw their balls against my windows and when the parent is confronted by a highly aggravated and pissed off 'me'; Instead of saying, 'sorry, I'll make them stop.', they say "Oh, if they break a window, we'll pay for it."
"Oh...okay then. Knock yourselves out, kids. And when you're done with the house, please feel free to move on to my car. No really, I insist."
Parents who allow their kids to 'drive' the shopping cart and are oblivious of the very real fact that their kids are "mowing" down other people, like me (the desire to punt is hard to resist). And you have to smile and bear it because they're kids and you don't want to propagate the reputation of being the neighhorhood "dragon lady". This is getting personal.
Do you f'in believe this?? Believe it. It makes my uterus say, "I want no part of this." I can LITERALLY hear my uterus talk.
And it uses proper grammar.
Then I get flagged...
A message from STRAIGHT WOMAN: To whomever is flagging me...
I'm sick and fuckin' tired of having my ost constantly flagged. I mean, I'm actually posting something that I'm looking for and I go into elaborate details so that my posting is crystal clear and I get flagged.
I'm not offensive, I'm not promoting any type of discrimination or hate. In fact, people are getting enjoyment from my posts but no...I guess we have to keep CL as dry and brittle as humanly possible to keep people from ever acessing the site. Brilliant marketing strategy. Helle-Fuckin'-llujah. Thank god for think tanks like you, flagass.
To whomever is the flagging police; you don't know how much I would love to kick your ass for having nothing better to do. Get a life, a hobby, a date, cable, a purpose, a donut, a clue, a job. Just do something that gives you an equal amount of power tripped that you get from flagging posts but at the same time, get your self-righteous sorry ass of my fuckin' back. You're like the mall police -- completely irrelevant. I would love to know what rule I'm violating and who exactly I'm offending so I could personally tell you to kiss my " I want to find a gay man friend but I keep getting flagged by dicks" ass.
What happened to freedom of speech? The pursuit of happiness? The right to type a fuckin' ad without having it deleted the minute you post it? Is there a bloody siren that goes off when I'm posting? Are you all that fuckin' bored?
Fuck you, you flaggering pieces of flagging ass, pieces of shit, cocksucking, motherfucking cunts.
You boring ass pieces of fuck. Eat shit. I hate you. I will stick voodoo needles in your fat sausage fingers as you continue to flag the innocent.
So instead of using your fingers on your crusty keyboards, take two of them, preferably the largest of your grubby digits, shove them up your pathetic ass and go fuck yourself. Once you're done with that, get to your favorite activities like downloading child porn and/or tending to your 12 cats. You're a pig and your trailer smells like cat piss. Look around. Take a sniff. Yeah...that's right.
You make me sick. I hope one or all of your cats piss in your mouth while you sleep and that you will soon be enjoying a fresh glass of iced tea in the company of Chris Hansen and the Dateline crew. I'll be watching.
The Shittiest weekend ever
Yeah. Oh I got fucked good this weekend. Real good.
1. I got my period. Fuck you, you motherfucking-like-clockwork- monthly asshole. You always know how to fuck me over at the right time. It's like we're married. At the same time, I thank you for the little sign that I'm not pregnant. That's the pot of gold at the end of your cursed little rainbow. I hate you, monthly period. I always did.
2. I got fucked up with booze and pot last night. I never learn to NOT mix the two. Double downers is what I don't fuckin' need.
I hate downers. I hate it when the room spins AND i'm paranoid.
The whole night, I was paranoid about peeing myself. No, there's no logic to it and I don't have the tendency to pee on myself but when I smoke pot, logic leaves the building. I'm a control freak...I need to be aware at all times. Especially in public. I hold on to my purse like there's a million dollars in it. I'm totally not cool. I'm all for mood enhancers, however, it has to be UP not down and all freaked out. I hate it when I turn into Woody Allen.
3. Last night was ugly night. All the trolls came out from under the bridge and hit my places. Even completely wasted, I had no desire to fuck anyone. I thought I saw my surfer dude, but it was a chick in a ponytail. She's wasn't too bad either. I would have done her over the trolls, no doubt. I should have asked her for her number.
4. I went to a gay bar with my girlfriend and her gay dude friend.
Looks like the ugly bomb hit every place I was at. Aren't gay guys supposed to be gorgeous? Pickins were slim even for the gay. Kinda redeemed me bit; no one's getting fucked tonight.
5. i ordered uppers online and it's been a month and I haven't received anything yet. I think I got fucked in the worst way possible. No orgasm...no pills....nothing.
6. I had a bad hair night. I hated my hair. I felt bloated because of my period. Although I wasn't at my peak sexiness last night, I would have settled for some heavy petting. Regardless of how many substances I'm on, my selection radar is always in tact. I'm still a picky motherfucker. A mixed blessing sometimes. Trolls need never apply. There's no such thing as a troll with sex appeal. I'd never forgive myself anyway.
What the fuck happened? I leave for two weeks and my options disappear and all there's left is a muddy haze of mediocrity.
I swear, I'll never leave again and surfer....wherever you are...FIND ME! I know I wasn't keen on throwing baloney slices at your naked body for points, but I think I'm open to it right now.
1. I got my period. Fuck you, you motherfucking-like-clockwork- monthly asshole. You always know how to fuck me over at the right time. It's like we're married. At the same time, I thank you for the little sign that I'm not pregnant. That's the pot of gold at the end of your cursed little rainbow. I hate you, monthly period. I always did.
2. I got fucked up with booze and pot last night. I never learn to NOT mix the two. Double downers is what I don't fuckin' need.
I hate downers. I hate it when the room spins AND i'm paranoid.
The whole night, I was paranoid about peeing myself. No, there's no logic to it and I don't have the tendency to pee on myself but when I smoke pot, logic leaves the building. I'm a control freak...I need to be aware at all times. Especially in public. I hold on to my purse like there's a million dollars in it. I'm totally not cool. I'm all for mood enhancers, however, it has to be UP not down and all freaked out. I hate it when I turn into Woody Allen.
3. Last night was ugly night. All the trolls came out from under the bridge and hit my places. Even completely wasted, I had no desire to fuck anyone. I thought I saw my surfer dude, but it was a chick in a ponytail. She's wasn't too bad either. I would have done her over the trolls, no doubt. I should have asked her for her number.
4. I went to a gay bar with my girlfriend and her gay dude friend.
Looks like the ugly bomb hit every place I was at. Aren't gay guys supposed to be gorgeous? Pickins were slim even for the gay. Kinda redeemed me bit; no one's getting fucked tonight.
5. i ordered uppers online and it's been a month and I haven't received anything yet. I think I got fucked in the worst way possible. No orgasm...no pills....nothing.
6. I had a bad hair night. I hated my hair. I felt bloated because of my period. Although I wasn't at my peak sexiness last night, I would have settled for some heavy petting. Regardless of how many substances I'm on, my selection radar is always in tact. I'm still a picky motherfucker. A mixed blessing sometimes. Trolls need never apply. There's no such thing as a troll with sex appeal. I'd never forgive myself anyway.
What the fuck happened? I leave for two weeks and my options disappear and all there's left is a muddy haze of mediocrity.
I swear, I'll never leave again and surfer....wherever you are...FIND ME! I know I wasn't keen on throwing baloney slices at your naked body for points, but I think I'm open to it right now.
Followup to my Craigslist ad
STRAIGHT WOMAN STILL LOOKING FOR VERY GAY MAN-PART TWO - w4m
WOW....I mean....wow. I never expected to get the response I did. Here I am
again, Grace with the sparkely one who was looking for her Will.
Has she found him?
Not even close.
I did discover something though: I discovered that a fully charged blackberry
will drain itself completely if it receives an email aboutevery 7 minutes,
while on vibrate, by the end of the work day.
I've received responses from every straight guy in SD. A handful of gay dudes
(like 3 and I think one was faking it), bi's, dudes who like to email pics of their
schlongs, advice, nominations for best of Craigslist (thanks!!!) but the best
part was people who emailedme thanking them for a laugh while they were
having an otherwiseshitty day. That actually made me smile.......while I was
sifting through schlong pictures....
I think every straight guy saw my ad as a challenge. "let's be friends, I promise
I won't fuck you...unless you want me too." Orstraight guys telling me they can
pretend to be gay. I don't even know what that means.
That's when I know you don't get it; it's not a plan...it just happens unless
you're ina relationship with someone else or....gay. This isthe age old question,
the Harry metSally argument about men and women being able to be friends
without any physical interaction.
I'm just thinking out loud right now. I've had some interesting email exchanges
about it with some men who answered my ad.
One dude, who i will affectionately refer to as "Bill", sent me a pic of his equine
tool with aten dollar bill wrapped around it. Just so that I getthe accurate
perspective of his girth.
Thank you, giant penis man. Thank you for making me grab my $10 bills
by the tinycorneredge and/orasking the checkout girl for "two fives" for my
ten when she's handing me my change.
"What? you have no fives or ones left? Sure...I'll take it in quarters."
How do i know when a guy is faking? When he starts (and ends....and actually,
it's all he says) his email with, "Hi, i'm __________. I likedick."...that's how.
I'm norocket scientist but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say he's either
faking, orpossibly a robot. I needmore conversation, Mr. I-like-dick. Besides,
that little tidbit of information you provided doesn't benefit ME in the least.
Other than we have one thing in common....
I think there was a gay dude who wanted to use me for my shoes. I mean, I don't
blame him...
I have GREAT shoes, but at the same time,I'm looking for a little more than
being your shoe bitch.
Let me clarify a few things...
I need you to be a Will and not a Jack. A Jack would exhaust me. I don't need
someone tosupport either. I need you to be in your late twentiesto your late thirties.
I need you tohave a job too. Any job. I don't care what you do as long as you get up
and do it.
I was asked why I didn't post in the M4M category if I was looking for a gay man and
myanswer is simple...
A few reasons. One, I didn't want there to be any confusion for I am not a man.
I didn't wantto be the target of a bunch of gay men pointing out that m4m means
two parties with similargenitalia. Also, after perusing that category, I was convinced
that the only men searching thoseads are either wanting to give or receive head and/
or "facial", be a "bottom" or a "top", and ofcourse the ever prevalent" glory hole"
which I'm too afraid to google for its meaning.
i'm innocently looking for a friend. That's all. A friend who likes boys.
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