Gay

Why does is always have to come down to money. stupid world.

Umm...Awkward

First and foremost, it would be appropriate to explain that I create awkward situations. Usually it's intentional and sometimes it's just me being my weird and awkward self.

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to visit Utah with my very dear friend and her wonderful family. We stayed in Heber, and camped for a few days then retreated back to Provo. During our stay in Provo my friend and I slept at her older brother's apartment, just right underneath her sister's apartment. I was a bit excited at the thought my friend's brother had a roommate and there could be a good chance he was single, and good-looking. When the roommate and myself were introduced, he proceeded to fill me in about his dating experiences. Actually, he explained in depth, his dating experience...hm..

Anyways, the next day we all stayed in at night and watched Knowing. (terrible movie by the way) During which, I was sitting next to the roommate, and I received a text message saying "Touch Jeff's Leg." I giggled. Then I put my hand to use. I rubbed the roommates leg. Then he did it back.... Uuuuuuuu yea. I sat on the couch next to this almost stranger almost as if I had died and the rigor mortis had already set in. He continued to tickle my hip even though I was obviously uncomfortable. A nervous laugh was all I could conjure up. I didn't think he'd do it back!

It gets better. The next day when the roommate spoke of the experience, he accused me of flirting with him. I automatically defended my case and pleaded not-guilty to his rash remark. Then he said, "You're right. You rubbed my leg! That's like worse than flirting!" So even though the leg rubbing wasn't favorable in my case, according to him it was a terrible thing....Sheese! I didn't think I was THAT bad!

Current Aggravation

PEMDAS can SUCK IT! Along with real number, integers and stupid negative signs. Who has two thumbs and hates order of operations?! This girl! *points to self with thumbs*

-4(3-5÷(-2))(5+8)² = ☹

This is what I have succumbed to. I have morphed into a hermit crab. Almost literally. My hermitage and atrocious sanctuary has my company for hours on in while I remain to be a fearsome sight to behold. I need a life.

A Request

Cam Gigandet

I forgot who this was then I googled him.  Mmmmm.  I remember when I first witnessed his rebellious fasaud and rendered myself irrevocably attracted to men who drink a perception altering beverage and have a six pack from strenuous fighting and late night, one night stands.  Then he appeared again as yet another supervillan, but unfortunately lost a battle.  A battle where love prevailed against the drive for blood and murder.  

I wonder if he is actually nice in person?  

There ya go Tristen.  A blog dedicated to James!  Baahahah!

Dead Like Me

Morality is a blessing!  Thank Adam for death.  

Today I was watching a HBO series titled "Dead Like Me."  If you didn't get the theme of the show from the title, let me further explain.  A girl of 18 dies and a freak toilet seat accident revealing the shows take on mysteries of the after life.  Her first acquaintances as her soul leaves her body are two grim reapers.  Not the ugly, morbidly skeletal ones, but people-looking ones.  These grim reapers give the girl tasks until she graduates from just a spirit to an undead grim reaper herself.  Then I related it to the plan of salvation.   In my own personal thoughts, (feel free to disagree) the state of life, or after-life, that the young woman was in would be equivalent to the telestrial kingdom.  The girl was on Earth but with different privileges.  So all in all, the telestrial kingdom is pretty much Earth but you get to wander around as an undead thing stealing from the dead and getting rich on others misfortunes all because there are no real consequences.  Cool huh?  NOT! I STILL want to go to the celestial kingdom!  LAAAAAA!!

Dating SUCKS

First and foremost, dating is a game.  And in games someone always loses.  The goal is now to make it a tie.  That means to let the person take a lead and come in strong when you realize you're falling behind, or come in strong and the other person catch up.  But it's too difficult to get to an even placement.  

For instance, when you are newly procuring a fine-looker, if you call too much they person will think you are obsessed and might potentially frighten them away.  Or...may not call enough which leads to your name in the wandering abyss of their busy social life and they move on to better things.  But what is enough and not enough?  I don't think I'll ever know.

If you finally get past the "talking" stage or whatever that awkward getting-to-know-each-other phase is called, the feelings thing comes up way too soon.  And someone always likes someone more.  And then the heavy feeler will say something dumb like, "I like you," or even dumber like, "can you see us together in the future?"  Then someone gets rejected and they sayer feels like an idiot.  But then sometimes someone will wait too long to say anything.  And then someone will be accused of not communicating.  But why would someone want to communicate when they don't know when too soon is?

All too often it ends after the feelings thing comes up. I would be better off with brutal honesty.  Phrases such as: "Listen, I think you're hot but I only want to make-out."  or, "Hey I want to get married so I'm in it to win it," would be amazing.  Send the open ones my way!

Black kids are funny...

I work as a music teacher in a after school program, for an elementary school in bellflower.  I think the ethnic percentage is somewhere between 70% hispanic and the rest black.  There might be a white kid or a red head somewhere in the mix.  Those are rare.  Anyways, often while i am giving a lesson on piano theory to the 3rd and 4th graders, someone will raise their hand and tell me a ridiculous story, having nothing to do with the lesson.  (I have learned patients with this job)  One day this black 3rd grade student raises his hand. 

"Yes Lawrence, do you have a question?"

"My dad said when I grow up I'm going to be a Canadian."  This clearly was not a question.  But I couldn't leave this statement alone. 

"But you are American.  Why do you want to be Canadian?"

"NO...No...a CA-NA-DI-AN."  He pronounced it extra clear.

"I know what you are saying, but what is in Canada?"  I still didn't get the point.

"No, no, no.  I mean the Canadians that tell people jokes and they are funny."

He meant comedian....

Childhood memory.

I was a tortured soul always bored with my existence, gaining petulance for life with every mundane detail I, unfortunately, observed.  I grasped on to such fantasies such at gargoyles, princesses and mystical creatures that dwelt in the midst of a fanciful forest.  I longed for the surreal to become my reality.  Holidays were also a relief for the ruts of life.  Ideas of the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause were favorable and much believed in my childhood.  Having no evidence of the great supernatural being an non-fictional part of life I was steadfast in my faith that there was something superlative about life that lied deep within the mysteries of the world and only made known to those who seek it most persistently.  I set forth a goal to make myself known to the unknown.  

Dwelling on a predictable existence was not the only past time I engaged in.  Instead I found myself observing others.  My mind was highly developed for a seven year old leading me to keep my thoughts to myself due to the fact I was extremely misunderstood.  While sitting aloof on the top of my stairs covered in brown shag carpet, I witnessed contention between my beloved mother and my impertinent brother.  The basis of their confrontation is still a blur to this day but the memory of their actions remains vivid in my mind today.  Such profanities that were used by my brother were surprising to me.  My mother defended her argument and raised her finger and raised-her-voice, nay, yelled, nay, screamed, nay, roared with a gnarling snare at my brother's face offending him to the fullest.  The tempest was raging beneath my brother's brow and crimson overtook the fair color of his skin.  His mannerisms predicted his next move, and caused my heart to sink into the pit of my stomach.  My brother raised his palms and shoved my mother down on to a pile of hangers.  Guilt and grief took over my brother's raging expression the minute her heavy body slammed on the floor and began to weep.  I suddenly felt agitated with myself that  was merely an observer in this violent dispute and was not there to catch my mother when she fell.  I ran into the room where my brother stood stupefied from his actions.  I immediately ran to my mother's aid when she began to erect herself from the pile of hangers that were disheveled under her.  "Get out of my house."  Where the only words my mother spoke to my brother after the incident.  I escorted my mother out down the stairs to gain composer on our retro couches.  

We sat in silence.  My mother no longer sad but victorious that she won the battle.  We could hear my brother packing his belongings from him room upstairs.

"Are you okay Mommy?"  My inquire was innocent.  

"I'm fine my baby."  She answered as a mother ought to; With ease and contentment.  

I appreciated my mother's efforts to calm my troubled mind with what I had just witnessed but I had already calmed myself.  I sat in my mother's arms worried about where my brother would go.  Sadness crept over me when I came to the thought that, I was too late to find true fairy tails in the world.  My family is becoming broken. I wanted more than ever for the unworldly to salute me and rescue me from an life full of prediction and turmoil!  I was comforted with the knowledge that proof of at least one fanciful character was real, and that Mr. Clause knew that I believed in him.  But, all great ideas come to an end.

"Honey, I need to tell you something."  My mother said interrupting my thoughts.  I gazed up at her with a puzzled expression.

"Honey, there is no Santa Clause."  She replied to my look.  I was speechless.

"Who brings the presents?"  It was the only question I squeezed out of my voiceless throat.

"Me and Daddy."  She replied with a comforting tone picking up on my uneasiness. 

"But they reindeers eat the carrots and Santa eats the milk and cookies."  I argued her statement. 

"No sweetie.  That was me and Daddy eating them."  Everything started to connect in my mind.  The late night, last minute shopping trips, catching my parents wrapping presents on Christmas Eve, discovering hidden presents in closets that were later addressed from Santa Clause himself suddenly all made sense.  I felt dumb and embarrassed that a developed mind such as myself skimmed over the truth a dozen times.  My mother sat still observing my expressionless face.  I felt a lump in my throat trying to work its way up into my eyes.  I forced the tears down to mask my utter disappointment with life.  I sat pondering that ignorance would have been better.  My only tinge of faith for a life of excitement vanished all with one sentence performed by my mother.  An act, that's all life was, was an act.  Damn Liars, repeated over and over again in my mind.  

"Aw honey, It's okay.  I'm so sorry."  My mother said with extreme comfort and apology.  Her maternal voice made me sob.  My tears betrayed me, streaming down my cheek profusely.  

Crushed dreams and shattered faith consumed me for the entire day.  I felt as though my brain was full of cement, heavy and unable to comprehend the disdain I held for my future.  I longed for normality in my life and for my thinking to be cleared by a simple companion or a childish game.  This memory will forever dwell in my mind and always remind me of the gift of innocents.