Delusions of Grandeur

Before you read anything, consider buying my book! Please? Thank you? Fuck myself? Cool


I have such a vivid imagination and it has definitely made my life interesting, to say the least. I've lived in so many different stories in my head alone, not even counting the real world where shenanigans were plenty. A lot of people compliment my "creative mind" and often wish they had a similar skill. I just wish I had a more realistic sense of the world.

These ever-growing ideas that swirl in my head have only made it harder to grow up in the "real world." I expected my life to be different by now - to have more umph if you will. Books, movies, tv all pointed to adults as these well put together with their worries being things like getting their kid's favorite toy for Christmas or rushing home because you left the country without one of your kids. Sorry, bad examples - it's the holidays and the examples are pretty limited right now with the lineup. You get the picture, though. I hope.

I thought my start to "adulthood" would be...bigger. Better. Not wetter though. It's plenty wet - I'll spare the details. I just expected more. A different job. A different town. A different love life. Different everything. Not that I'm complaining, per se. My life now isn't all that bad. I have a nice apartment - maybe not a working vacuum right now. And maybe I have to wait a few paychecks to be able to buy a new vacuum. But a nice apartment. A good job with great people. A loving family. I have like 1 or 2 real good friends. It's not all awful.

Compared to what I thought my life would be at this point? It's garbage. If all went like my imagination, I'd be in a loft apartment in Philly with big windows and a view of the dazzling city lights. Palpatine, my cat, still exists. He just has tons more room to run and more window perches. There would be a medium sized balcony where I could install a hot tub and still have room for a table, chairs, and a grill. My days would be spent working at a publishing house, working as an editor. Maybe I could teach one or two creative writing night classes. There would be people happy to see me come home, like cool neighbors that would bring wine over some nights that we happily drink out on the balcony, watching the city. One of my hilarious and handsome male neighbors would slowly fall in love with me and we would make each other happy. I've gotten carried away now.

I know, Han. I know. But I'd also have like two or three best-selling novels out too. You know, no big deal. I'd also like the underscore/dash key on my laptop to not be stuck down after Palpatine chewed it off. Went to fix it after writing that sentence and I'm pretty sure it's now completely broken off. Whoops.

I know I'm still young and I have a long road ahead of me in every aspect of life, but I'm so impatient and my mind keeps throwing out these ideas and it's making it so hard to see what I have now. This makes me sound ungrateful. I'm an asshole.



Also, been thinking a lot about nostalgia. I was OBSESSED with writing fanfiction when I was younger. In fact, I was 13 when I started writing and it was fanfiction that got me going. Embarrassing yet inspiring? None the less, I've been thinking about it a lot lately and even tried to go and read old fanfiction but my god it was all awful. We were just a bunch of overzealous kids trying to write complicated stories with absolutely no formal training. It was entertaining though. I was thinking about doing something similar on this blog. Maybe posting a chapter a week or more likely posting a chapter when I remember/feel like it. It wouldn't be so much fanfiction to readers as it would be to me as I'm writing it. It would feel like a normal story to you as you read along. I don't know if that is something people would be into or not. No one ever leaves comments on here so I'm going to assume it's a good idea and go for it starting soon. Good talk everyone. Glad you could be here.

Back with a Vengeance

I haven't posted in a long long time. Awful blogging, I know. This isn't my full-time job, so calm down. I'm doing my best.

Wanted to post something real. Not my usual blabbering with funny lines thrown in for a good kick. Real feelings. Gasp! I know. What the fuck am I doing?

There are a lot of people that would disagree with me, but it's hard to believe those people over the adamant opposers. I believe, deep down in my unchangeable soul, that I am ugly. I don't like to use that word because I do find it hard to believe that anything in this utterly amazing world is ugly, but me - I AM ugly. My eyes are too close together. My nose is too big. My skin is spotted with scars and blemishes. Fingers too short, hands too wide, chest too small, shoulders too wide, feet too square. The list goes on. The one redeemable quality I might like: my lips are sort of nice. But my smile? Hideous. My voice? Gargantuan.

Because of this, I am left with a serious problem. I don't trust others too easily when it comes to feelings. I put too much trust in the strangers I meet on dating apps, hoping they don't murder me when I meet them for the first time in a dark parking lot. But the men that actually might have feelings for me? Crazy. Unbelievable. Why would anyone in their right mind choose me over someone beautiful? And you know what? Very few people have chosen me over someone else. I get passed over time and time again. I'm so tired of it. I'm tired of coming in second. Tired of being the almost one.

I have a great job, make good money, pay my bills, about to move out on my own, about to have my first novel published - and yet, here I am. Still feeling like nothing I do will ever be good enough to catch someone's attention. Thinking no one will ever want to put in the effort to make me happy.  And maybe no one will ever fill that role. Maybe it's up to me and me alone to make myself happy. It sounds sad, but people shouldn't have to rely on others to feel something amazing. Sex jokes aside on that one.

While I do relish the thought of being with someone - being able to enjoy the small bliss relationships give off. Holding hands in public, the subtle nod that two people chose each other. The hugs. The big, warm, safe hugs. Secret kisses on the walk to the car after a lovely date night. Just being with someone you can put all your trust in with no question. I want that. I want that so bad. But, it's looking less and less likely for me if I can't see beauty in myself. If I can't let someone feel without questioning it.

Maybe I'm meant to be alone. Meant to be the odd family member that brings her dogs to family dinners instead of kids. The person people get to look to and think, "At least I'm not them." Everyone has a purpose, so that could be mine. I'll make people laugh and make them cherish what they have. I don't know the future. Wish I did. I wish I could see what happens so I wouldn't worry as much. Oh well. I'm giving up looking for the future and focusing on what I can for right now. My writing. Crafting my work and making it the best it can be. It's all I can do.

What A Bright Future...

...with little spots of darkness

When you're little, it is normal to have a crush on your parent. Little girls usually get all giddy and say they will marry their fathers and little boys swear their lives on their mother being their only one. It's cute, sometimes a little weird if the kid gets too old to be saying it. Possibly sort of serial killerish, too. Who am I to judge, though? 

Of course, when you get older, you might start to notice flaws in your parents. I'm not saying they are awful people, just little things you would rather not have to deal with in a forever partner. Obviously, your forever partner will als have flaws, but everyone does and it is stuff you can handle on a daily basis without wanting to shank him or her. Or maybe you do want to shank them, but you hold back. Love: it's crazy fucked up.

This is a very convoluted way to get to my main point: I don't want someone like my father. Don't get me wrong, I love my father. He works hard and never gives up on his family no matter what. He's always there if you need something. Like the time I ran out of gas on the way home from work and he showed up with a gas can and a sarcastic remark about me being smart. He yelled at my for a second on the phone, but he still left the warm house to come help me out in the cold weather. I'm not questioning him as a person or saying he is a shit father. He isn't what I want as a partner for one specific reason. 

He likes to believe in the old standards for men and women. 

 

He is a classic believer in women cook and clean while men do the handy work. I get that sometimes it's easier for one person to do something because they are more skilled in the one specific skill, but why leave it up to gender? In my almost 25 years of life, I have never once seen my father grocery shop. I joke with my mom that my dad will probably lose his shit when she dies because he won't know how to live. When he gets home from work, dinner is done. He puts his empty lunch containter in the sink and expects my mom to wash it for him so he can make his lunch for the next day with dinner leftovers. One time my mom refused to do it, "You won't serve your man?" He said it as a joke, but then when my mom still refused to do it because she also works just like him, he said he doesn't need lunch and will buy food from the food truck instead. 2 hours went by before my mom gave in and cleaned the container and made him lunch. 

You are a full grown man. You know how to soap a sponge and clean your shit and put food in a container. 

I don't understand why my mother lets him get away with petty shit like that. She will wait on him hand and foot and then complain that he never helps. If you expect him to do something, then you need to stop treating him like a child. The worst part is that my brother has seen my father do this and now expects the same. When he comes over for dinner, he does not one bit of help. He won't even bring his plate to the sink. My mom even goes as far as not asking him for help. One time, I said something to her about why I have to work so hard and my brother gets to sit on the couch.

"Because you are a girl and he is a man. Girls are supposed to do this."

Excuse me? Just because I was born with tits and a weird triangle between my legs, I have to work my ass off in the kitchen while the men get to drink and relax? I call bullshit. Shove me back in and send me out with a dong. I don't even care how much I love getting dicked down, I don't want to be a female if this is the type of shit I have to deal with my entire life. 

I remember one time my mom was commenting that the dish washer smelled a little funny. My dad said it's fine and it's supposed to clean itself when dishes are in there. I told him that's not right and you have to run it with no dishes every once in awhile to keep it clean. He told me that's not true. "Put dishes in and run it. See how clean it gets." Yes, because putting dirty dishes in there and expecting the entire thing to get clean makes so much sense. I tried telling him that it doesn't make sense and he said I don't know what I'm talking about. 

Girls are allowed to knows things men don't know, dad. Did I mention that my dad didn't know what a hymen was? Had to explain that to him when I laughed at a hockey player's name and how the announcers said, "And there's hymen, breaking in front of the net!"

I don't want a man that expects things to be done for him just because he has a penis. My weird triangle should not limit me to being your servant. 

...I'll serve that dick, though. 

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.