Do You Hear What I Hear?

Christmas Themed!

But not really. I'm talking about the voices in my head. Not creepy voices. More like the voices that are planning out my future. It's me, but calmer and not as weird. The me that isn't singing The Diva Dance from The Fifth Element any time of day.

I'm going to get mushy. Are you ready for mushy? If not, please leave and come back when you are cause it's going to get grass after a downpour mushy. 3, 2, 1...

I cannot wait to be married to my best friend in the entire world. 

I'm not engaged nor am I currently dating anyone. The last "relationship" I was in ended because of my fear of moving too fast. I'm scared of getting into something and catching feelings, being vulnerable. I mostly keep offering to suck random dick when nothing else is working out. Yes, all terrible portions that do not, in any way equal a whole woman ready for a serious, deep relationship. But one day I'm going to be married to the best guy for me and we are going to be so god damn happy.

I was in bed. Friday night. Alone as usual. My life is a myriad of fun and exciting plans, obviously. After work, I had dinner with my parents and then took a shower. My hair is super soft and my skin is moisturized. Lightly scented with some cranberry and grapeseed. God knows how many fucking grapes you need for grapeseed oil. It was on sale at a discount beauty place. I see cheap that usually isn't cheap and I buy. Reason #35935 why I'm broke. Also $50 Philadelphia Flyers sneakers. Not my point. 

I'm in bed smelling good, feeling soft all over, cuddling my giant fluffy body pillow (Walmart, $12. You're welcome,) and I think to myself, "You know, a man right here next to me would be sublime right now." I'm not saying this is the only thing I think about, because anyone reading my blogs knows my brain is ALL over the place. It also isn't the only thing that I think will make me happy. This isn't about needing a man to survive. Fuck, I can survive without a man. There are tons of sex shops plus websites usually have free delivery.It was just...at that moment, that is the only thing I wanted. A guy that would smile at me just because he loves me. One that would hold me close as we fall asleep. The both of us so content with how our days went and now getting to spend our nights together. Our words not making sense as we fall asleep next to each other. 

Lately, my head has been projecting this awful idea that I'm just not pretty enough to be allowed the privilege of being attractive to anyone. I'm afraid that small children whipser to their mothers that I'm scary or that beautiful women pity me. Lately, I've been picturing my future as me alone. All my beautiful friends have families and someone by their side. I'm alone at my desk writing about what it's like to still be single in your 50s. Still singing The Diva Dance. I'm not upset about The Diva Dance part. 

I don't know what it was about tonight that made me feel different. That made me think I would actually be with someone. Maybe I had a good day. Maybe I shouldn't have microwaved that plastic cup and then eaten out of it. Either way, it was nice to think that maybe, just maybe I won't end up alone.

If you haven't guessed by now, I'm going to be a kick ass wife one day. I mean, just look at my high school yearbook, my sense of humor must be out of this world considering how many times it was referenced. Plus, that cranberry and grapeseed scent is damn delicious. Sometimes I smell like watermelon. Don't even get my started on how many different Chapstick flavors I have. 

17. I have 17 different Chapsticks. 

Sweet Child

You've been working hard

I know a lot of people my age have been working relentlessly hard to get even one rung up the ladder. I know a lot of people my age have also been under immense scrutiny for not being where others expect us to be for our age. And that fucking sucks.

"Go to college." We did that.

"Work hard to get good grades!" We did that, too.

"Well why aren't you doing the thing you went to school for?" Please, Susan. Stick to your dry meatloaf recipe and leave me alone. 

I don't know what else we are expected to do. I went to college, worked shitty summer jobs to get money, and even went back to get my M.F.A.  What do I have to show? Unemployed and cannot even get a call back from the local movie theater for a minimum wage job. You know why? I'm now overqualified. I did what I was told and now I can't even get a shit paying job. What a great time I'm having being belittled by my parents that don't understand why I'm stuck here with nothing to show.

I have friends that went for more "ambitious" and/or "useful" degrees and guess where they are right now. The same boat as me. Living at home, taking whatever work that comes along. Constantly pushing for the jobs we were told would be there once we obtained a degree. Not that I'm expecting a job, because that would play into the idea that everyone my age feels entitled to everything. I'm only relaying what was told to me as a young 18-year-old. I am constantly trying to explain to my parents what is going on right now:

The jobs expected to open up once I graduated are no longer opening up because people are working until they are 80 instead of retiring at 60 or 65 because things are so god damn expensive. It. Fucking. Sucks. 

My main point for this post is to let people know that you're doing great. It may not seem like things are going your way or you may feel like giving up, believe me, everyone feels that way. There is so much holding us back and so much making the future seem muddled. We will get there. And you know what? It's okay to take a break once in awhile to let your head get a better grip on what is going on.

You've worked hard to get here. Soak it in. If no one else has said it to you up to this point: I'm so proud of you. It doesn't matter where you are in life according to others. You know where you want to be, you know what you want out of life and you're working towards it one way or another. Someone might get to their goal before you, and it's okay. You can be a little envious, but don't let it distract you from your goal. Keep chugging away. Both at your goal and celebratory drinks (if you're into that.)

All I'm saying is that one day, I hope you're sitting in your dream house with whatever your dream is...be it a family, a garage full of exotic cars, your own beach, I don't know. Whatever you want. I hope you have it one day. Whether it be next week or years from now. Don't give up on yourself.

Things I'm Addicted To

Don't judge me

Having no job means no money. No money means I can't do shit besides sit at home and wish I was out. I also sometimes try and guilt my mom into buying me Taco Bell where I shame eat alone in my room and watch other people be happy on Netflix. C'est la vie!

My point is: I have nothing to really write about at the moment. So, I've come up with a list of weird things I'm addicted to. Hopefully others find these just as addicting, otherwise, I'm just a giant weirdo and all my sneaking suspicions that I'm too weird are correct. Probably the latter. Fuck.

Onto the list:

• Q-Tips, the number one thing you shouldn't do with these cotton angels is stick them in your ear and rub them around for that joyous eargasam. I used to do it at least twice a day because I cannot stand when my ears feel dirty. I also used to get a massive ear infection at least every other month. My tonsils and adenoids were removed because my ENT doctor told me that was the reason for my ear infections. Hahaha, major surgery because I'm a freaking weirdo. 

• Dyeing my hair, killing it with bleach and then drowning it in hair masks once a month (or when I remember and feel like it.) Give me all the colors and all the shades. I've wanted lilac hair for the longest time. Rose gold hair to make my eyes pop. But I'm an adult now and can't do that shit anymore. I have to stick to the normal colors like brown and blonde and red. 

• Cheese. Must I explain this one?

• Collecting weird things and never using them. I just cleaned out my trunk because I have a Groupon for a car detailing and need my car empty. I fucking found plastic golf clubs in there. I bought them in college to play mini golf in the dorms. No one ever wanted to play mini golf with me. Am I weird? Who the fuck doesn't wanna play mini golf? I also had a trident I made with a broom handle and cardboard stacked and cut to look like the top, all spray painted gold. It's cool as fuck, you can't even judge me for that one. 

• Star Wars. I wouldn't say it's an unhealthy obsession, but probably more bad than good. I could be minding my own business on Facebook and a god damn advertisement comes by like, "Star Wars character necklace HALF OFF!" Oh, fuck me sideways, HALF? There's no way I can't at least look at what they have to offer. As I sit there with my Millennium Falcon necklace on and a R2-D2 necklace hanging off my dresser with my BB-8 ring chilling on the shelf above me and the multitude of themed earrings sitting in my jewelry box with even more on my Amazon wishlist. I have my life in order, obviously. Just let me go eat popcorn out of my Stormtrooper head bowl and drink out of my Darth Vader cup. Did my Death Star ball roll behind the couch again? Why does my friend still have my Ewok stuffed animal? My Ewok tattoo is bigger than my Millennium Falcon tattoo, the Lightsaber one I eventually get has to be the same size as the Ewok I think. WHERE IS MY SECOND CHEWY STUFFED ANIMAL?! I've said too much. 

I think we are done here. 

Time For A New Post

I guess...


I honestly have nothing I want to write about this week. Realized last week that I wasn't changing the default font to match the font chosen for the first blog entry, so there's that lovely little tidbit. Not that anyone asked. 

Right now, I'm listening to "Her Voice" from The Little Mermaid on Broadway. I might be a little wet. Wow, probably TMI, but I'm writing an entire book about dicks and shit so is that really a problem at this point? Go listen to it if you've never heard it before. I'm sure every woman will sigh and men will probably scoff and mumble how they can sing like that if they wanted to (but deep down they really want to melt into that man's arms). What? Who said that? Not me. 

Anyone else usually enjoy the villain more than the hero? Prince Eric and Ariel are cool and all, but URSULA IS MY MAIN BITCH. Her songs have so much more depth rather than, "I'm a young teen and my dad is a jerk for not letting me go have fun!" Shit, Ursula is all, "People said I was a bitch, but I'm totally not..." as fucking lightning and shit is all around her. Totally not suspicious at all. Bad bitches don't play. 

Villains have the better story most of the time anyway. Who the hell cares about a Princess that started living with dwarfs or one that dances around a forest singing all the time? Give me that deep dark backstory with grit and body! The only shit villain I can think of at the moment is Gaston. GO FIND A DIFFERENT BOOTY TO CHASE, WTF.

Still listening to "Her Voice". That man could sing me to sleep every night if it were up to me. Instead, I grip my long ass body pillow and fall asleep wishing it was any man. Scratch that. I somehow still have standards even if I've been alone entirely too long. LOL WHAT ARE RELATIONSHIPS?

REPLAYS "HER VOICE" FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME

You guys think Ursula had back problems? Those melons look heavy. 

I Missed Motivation Monday and That Beautiful Alliteration

Well, fuck

My apologies for the profanity right above, in the past posts, and in future posts. I curse a lot. I read somewhere once that it's a sign of intelligence. Did I research it further to confirm it? Nope. We can stick to it being true.

Anyway, I wanted to talk a little bit about the novel I'm currently working on. I finished graduate school in March of this year - M.F.A. in writing, 3.88 GPA. Go, me! Shame on me for slacking during a few classes, but I was working full-time and didn't give a shit a few times. Can you blame me? (Probably)

In order to finish the program, I had to write a thesis. Normal thing for graduate students as most of you probably know. There were only two guidelines besides length (80-100 pgs):

-Poetry had to be one poem per page, single-spaced

-Fiction and Non-Fiction had double-spaced

I looked up the guidelines a semester early, knowing I should get a head start. Thank fuck I did, otherwise, I would have been screwed in every sense of the word. Or lack thereof I should say since I had to stop seeing some hook-ups to get shit done. Let's say it sucked. No...it was stressful. Yes, no double entendre with stressful. 

There had been this idea in my head for some time, but I never actually sat down to write it. Online dating and the hell that is truly is. From the absolutely insane guys that scarf down giant burritos to impress me to the tame men that impersonate Jesus in their free time. Don't forget the weird sex encounters. I may have accidentally tried butt stuff once. 

I just wanted to throw out some of my favorite parts I've written so far so some people that aren't getting scenes sent to them random hours of the day can see what I've been up to recently. I really hope to get this published once I'm finished and it definitely helps to have people that would be interested going forward too. 

"I eventually found myself with his dick in my mouth. I really can't explain how it happened. We were kissing and next thing I know I was kissing his cock with my entire mouth. Weird how that happens, huh? Or does it only happen to me?"

"His tongue lazily licked around like he was licking an envelope closed. No, wait, that might have actually been nice. It was more like he had peanut butter stuck in his mouth and my vagina just happened to be in front of him during this unfortunate time."

"I offered him my fries, and he took that as an opportunity to unzip his pants. Now, please laugh with me as I explain the irony of offering him my French fries and him whipping out his own French fry of a penis in return."

"Did I need to take a shit on this guy to get him to leave or what? I guess I could have asked him to leave, but that's rude. Ruder than taking a shit on him? Debatable." 

Those are a few very short excerpts from my novel in progress and there's so much more to go! Here's to finishing it and getting it published! 

Nobody Likes You When You're 23

Wait, 24 definitely sucks more

I know I JUST posted the other day, but I was in bed staring at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling (they weren't shining for me. You lied Owl City,) and I just started feeling this overwhelming sense of dread. Nothing too big, no existential crisis, just..."oh, fuck."

Me realizing I'm not adulting correctly and I'm expected to actually be adulting at this very minute:

Everyone else in the back cheering cause I make a really good example for everyone else my age that is sort of adulting cause at least they aren't me!

Seriously, think for a minute. 22, you're either just getting out of college, still in college, or have a steady job that is working great for you. 23, people are still figuring things out, kind of floating around and seeing how things work. Actual adults still think it's okay for you to be confused about bills and how life really works. Then 24 hits and suddenly you have to be grown-up. *Shivers*

My mom is suddenly dropping more and more hints about grandchildren and asking me when I'm going to settle down with someone.

"I just thought that, since you're getting older, you'd have been with this one forever." She casually said to me after I ended things with the one guy I had been seeing.

"I'm 24!" I laughed back at her. The longer I studied her face, the more I saw she was serious. What the actual shit?

How? Why? I'm still considering myself a kid when it comes to making decisions! This isn't..no!  I want to go back to 21 when I was still in college and allowed to make stupid decisions like getting drunk mid-day when my ex broke up with me on Valentine's day and eating half a pizza only to throw up in the sink and then eat more pizza and watch Disney movies! I want to live across the hall from my best friend and do stupid college papers and have that be my biggest complaint. Shit, now I'm over here worrying how I'm going to pay my car bill and actually be able to move out of my parent's house before I'm 30.

Send help.

That Time In Wisconsin

RockFest, anyone?

Don't ask why Sarah and I went halfway across the country to attend a rock festival because we have no real answer. When people ask us, we mostly look at each other and say, "Uh..." 

Let's be real for a second. How could we not have gone to this amazing festival? First of all, there were bands like Rob Zombie, Avenged Sevenfold, Slayer, Volbeat, Shinedown, the list goes on and on and on. Believe me, it was four days of absolute bliss. At least I thought it was going to be. 

So everyone knows: I'm not a camping person. I wouldn't say I was miserable, but I definitely wasn't happy. I was a little better when I gave up on trying to look like a decent human being and skipped daily showers since it was a long, uphill walk to the communal showers where I found a used band-aid in my stall and someone else yelled there was a bloody tampon in theirs. It got even better when I stopped trying to hide the fact that I poop because there were literal piles of shit in the port-o-potties. Let me tell you, when you see shit smeared across the port stall, you kind of lose any hope that you will make it out of it all unscathed. 

We got there early in order to be considered to win backstages passes. We, of course, didn't win shit. However, we did win the absolutely amazing thunderstorm package. Bad storms were making their way in and all we had was a discount tent and a car. I remember waking up around 1 or 2 from loud rumbles of thunder in the distance. I shuffled on my air mattress and tried to squint over at Sarah. I wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep, but I was already bugging out. How the fuck are we supposed to survive these bad storms in a god damn tent?  

Fast forward about an hour and the rain is pelting our tent with such power that you'd think it was hailing. Sarah moves around on her mattress and I see her sit up and look at me. 

"We should run for the car." She started to grab her stuff. Phone, speaker, anything electronic she had in there. I grabbed my phone and my damn stuffed animal. A bright burst of lighting went across the sky simultaneous with the loudest clap of thunder I heard up until that time (not long after that I almost shit myself out in a different thunderstorm but that's a different story). Sarah probably saw my face was like:

but I didn't have time to care what Sarah was seeing. I was about to bolt to the car as fast as my short little legs could take me. I stood outside the tent under the lowered canopy waiting for Sarah to close the tent and get alongside me so I didn't just ditch her (on the real, I'd ditch ANYONE if it was something more serious like a bear or Sasquatch I don't know.) Our little god damn blow up pool was sagging now with all the excess water building up, it was bound to break any minute now and it pretty much did the next morning. 

We get in her car dripping wet head to toe from that short run from the tent to the car. We start laughing. Kind of manically. 

"Well, this is it!" I laughed and wiped water off my face, pushing my hair out of the way.

"Probably for the night, look at the radar." Sarah showed me her phone and pointed to a spot on the map, "This is us." A small dot in the middle of a giant storm-colored mess. We looked at each other and laughed again. 

In the morning, we went into the tent and, wouldn't you know it, the entire thing was soaked. Mostly my side cause that's just my luck. I had two books in there that were ruined. My mattress and sheets were beyond soaked. So we did the only thing we could think.

We laid our mattresses out in the sun and hung our sheets all over the canopy and across her car like the most white-trash thing you've ever seen. We drank some cans of Mike's Hard Lemonade and sat by our deflating pool as new people drove in and stared. 

I wish we had a sign that said "Jersey" cause it would have explained a whole hell of a lot. 

Better Late Than Never

Not a period reference

I'm late with my second blog post. Part of me was hoping to do a post every Thursday, but we see how that worked out. I knew what I wanted to write about days ago, but I'm a slacker. On with it, then!

I met this guy. He is really quite amazing and probably everything a girl could ask for: charming, cute, caring, actually wanted to be seen with me in public. You know, all the important things. Especially that last one. Or not, I may be asking for too much on that one. 

Anyway. Imagine that! A man that honestly wants me and likes me and all that good stuff. (Though I'm pretty sure the sex helped sway him a little.) So, you obviously know what I did.

I GOT OUT OF THERE FASTER THAN A DOG WHEN IT HEARS A CHIP BAG OPENING. 

Sabotage? No, I'll go with stupidity. I essentially had the dream man, but then I spooked. 

"I thought he was going to be my future son-in-law!" My mom was very upset when I told her I ended things. "Are you serious?" She yelled and slammed down a bowl of white rice onto the dinner table. Her squinty eyes were somehow bigger than normal in a more almond shape, probably straining them so I could better see the disappointment. "You make your own decisions, but I don't agree with you." Thanks for having my back on that one, mom. 

"You wanted me to be unhappy just so I was with someone you like?" I tried. It didn't work. Her mom-beam was too over-bearing-- I MEAN...powerful. Yeah, powerful. Heh.

"You looked happy." Her pursed lips told me she was done with the discussion. Forget what I want, right? My dad sat at the other end of the table quietly like this: 

Truth is? This guy wrote me a love letter of sorts explaining how happy he was with me. Telling me that he felt exhilarated every time we were together. That he was falling for me.

I felt nothing.

How could I possibly allow it to go on anymore if I knew it wasn't going to be worth it for him? What if I stayed with him purely because he was a good guy that my mom happened to like and then a year down the road I realize I won't ever have feelings for him? And maybe a year down the road I could have ended up really liking him, no one knows how things like that work. But there's always the off chance I was just wasting his time. That's not fair for anyone. 

Or maybe I'm just a selfish asshole that has standards way higher than they should be? 

Tune in next week (or really later this week, who the hell knows what I'm doing) where I make more bad decisions!

Start This Engine

Wait, What?

Here I am, writing this between applying for jobs that I probably will never hear back from no matter what kind of education I have. Isn't that a great feeling? Having two degrees yet nowhere to go with them? Graduate high school, go to college, get a masters degree! Yeah, not working out for me. Thanks for the advice, world. 

I'm writing a book. My thesis for graduate school, extended and edited for the reading world. In the meantime, my mother keeps telling me to start a blog. 

"You know, Joe told me that you should start a blog! It apparently is the first step to everything in your field." Mom, the first mention of a blog.

"Have you started that blog?" Mom, the second mention. In the middle of dinner. My dad glanced up from his food. He was probably looking out the window. 

"Write a blog! You work with kids all day! They're funny. Write about them." My mom, the most recent mention. Not sure if she's trying to get me into a lawsuit or what. 

Moms never give up. I'm still confused if she wants me out of the house or to succeed. Who am I kidding? Both. Always both.  

I can't tell you how many times she has come home with some convoluted job proposal. So-and-so told her about some company and does this and that. Or some guy in the store told her about an opportunity to do something or other. My dad gets mad when I snip at my mom, asking her to stop sniffing around for a job. 

"She's getting you opportunities!" He yells and waves his hand at me angrily. 

She's trying her hardest and I appreciate that. But she never comes home with anything solid or actually worthwhile. She will either tell me about something that makes no sense or tell me about something that is completely out of my league right now. 

And that is just jobs! Don't even get me started on her trying to find me a man! She came home from getting gas one day, "Shan! There's a really good-looking man at Wawa. He smiled at me and took my card. You should go see him."

"I don't have to get gas?" I looked at her with my eyebrows scrunched yet raised in absolute mortified confusion. "Am I supposed to drive over there, see him, and then go, 'Oh! I didn't want to get gas!' and drive off?" 

That's exactly what she wanted me to do.