I Think I Am a Ghost: Champagne Resolutions For All That Will Be New.

I resolve to revolve around myself more

to smoke cigarettes and take more drugs

to find fun in the mundane window panes

and spackled paint jobs

to get more sun

I resolve to involve more people in my schemes

to read fashion magazines and blow off

steam by rhyming words with dream

so it seems, it's hard to stop

but that's okay.

I resolve to dissolve all my drama

as quickly as soap bubbles in water

Dawn not just a grease fighter

stain booster, but drama reducer

staying clean and fresh

like lemon zest

I resolve to evolve as a positive life force

of sun goddess quality

growth unbuttoned

a blouse in the breeze.

I resolve to solve

all mysteries

I resolve to solve

all mysteries.

I Did It All for A Cookie: A Rant on D-Bags At Bars.

Last night I was at this show at the Skylark and I swear to you one of those really bad OK Cupid profiles came to life. I was standing up front watching the band and these two doode-bros drunkenly came up right beside me, totally unaware of the space the were invading; my space. I was like, “I am not moving because of these assholes.” Then of course one of them bumps into me and does the whole, “uuhhhh yo saarreeee” thing. And continues to not move out of my way. It only got worse when this woman joined them and started swinging her hair all around. I could smell her shampoo. I was afraid pieces of her hair were going to fall into my beer. Or like her dandruff or something. (I don’t know how clean these people are.) Anyway. The one doode who ran into me looked like a skinny wiener version of Fred Durst circa 1999. And then. This is what sold it. He lifted up his shirt. Just like they all do in those photos in front of the mirror. Yeah, he lifted up his shirt to expose his skinny muscled abs to the girl whipping her hair back and forth. I guess this must be some sort of new mating ritual I don’t quite understand. Did this start with Jersey Shore and “The Situation?” I don’t know because I only have seen that crew on talk shows and all he ever does is objectify himself. Was this Durst character objectifying himself in an attempt to get laid by the hair-whipper?

It didn’t work.

She disappeared. Then this other woman came to take her place. And Dirty Durst was on top of his game. She took the bait, even as he sloppily spilled beer all over his face and shirt (that was no longer pulled up). I could no longer watch the scene because what I wanted to do was punch the guy in the face. Something about him just rubbed me the wrong way. I think it was probably the realization that guys on OKC that do the shirt/ab/mirror thing actually exist in real life. And they can easily be in the same room with me without me being able to do anything about it, except leave of course. And why should I have to leave because some wangsta-wanna-be-loved-hated-at-the-same-time doode can’t function in a socially appropriate way in front of me?

Yes, there is socially appropriate behavior at shows. Being a sloppy drunk, taking up too much space, and generally splaying about isn’t appropriate. We’re all used to it, be we don’t like it.

I mean, are there people out there that like getting bumped into and beer spilled on them?

I guess it could be someone's fetish. There's a fetish for everything.

Limp dickscuit ab pics are not mine.

Perfect Punctuation. Period.

I have exciting news!

Many of you readers may remember me talking about my life with birth control; how I was on this progesterone-only pill that kept me from having a period for over a year. And how when my relationship ended I quickly quit taking the pill, because, fuck hormones, ya know!

But still, it had been months. Like three months and I was starting to freak out. Watching one episode of “I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant,” really didn’t help. Every time I got gas I thought maybe it was a baby growing in there. And I was worried because I drink so much that if there were a baby in there it would come looking super retarded—not to mention the Maury—Who’s Your-Baby-Daddy—like scene that could have ensued directly after pooping it out into a toilet.

(deep breath)

So, needless to say, I am thrilled to announce the arrival of my period!!!!!!!

I have never in my life enjoyed having a period so much.

I don’t even care if this is too much information for all of you.

I feel as if I am getting rid of so much toxic energy.

And right in time for the new year!

I am really looking forward to 2012—new year, new start. It’s going to be a good one.

Many creative plans in the works including a new music project involving sounds of domesticity, painting, Spanish learning, and of course, an extreme amount of writing.

Cheers to the New Year!

*I’d like to quickly note that my blog from the other day may have been a bit much, perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, maybe even yes! a bit dramatic! But I had debated with myself for days about publishing it... my gender studies side of my self said, no, this isn’t ready; my writer side said, sometimes you just have to make sweeping generalities and be solid in your choice. So. I chose the writer side. A part of me feels bad, but another part of me doesn’t. I am not perfect, I do not have an editor telling me what’s good and what’s not. I make mistakes, but I hope that my readers understand this. My writing choices come from a place of wanting to connect, share, expand, learn, grow. I’m going through a rough time and I feel much gratitude for my readers’ support and understanding. And, of course I will elaborate on the gender issues sometime in the near future as I feel they were not quite clear.

From One Ex to The Next (Stay Blocked)!

I couldn't decide whether or not to actually post this, but I am like fuck it, I think this needs to get out into the world... so here goes. Written Dec. 25th):

I did something really stupid today.

But let me backtrack for a moment.

When my ex and I broke up I blocked him on facebook. To which he responded in an email telling me how unnecessary he thought the blockage was and how all like 300+ pictures of us were now untagged.

I responded to that with some message resembling this:

“Boohoo. We’re not together anymore. And I can do whatever the hell I want.”

Fast forward.

I’m on my mom’s computer uploading holiday pictures to her facebook.

(You all know where this is heading right?)

And of course she never de-friended him because “she doesn’t know how to do that sorta thing.”

Why I clicked I do not know.

Since clicking on his page I’ve been trying to unclick the click from my memory but I can’t.

It was the click every ex dreads.

Now, I’m questioning whether I am actually a masochist who clicked knowing it would cause me more pain and suffering. Or, if my subconscious told me to click because I am now strong enough to accept the outcome of his betrayal.

Perhaps it’s a mixture of both.

It was of course, the click that revealed how he is now “in a relationship” (with the woman he cheated one me with).

My initial reaction was “of course.”

Then I got that sinking feeling in my stomach again, like the same feeling I had the week we broke up. I couldn’t eat. And had been doing a damn good job eating the entire time I’d been back home.

This non-eating made me analyze again... Am I not eating because I literally cannot stomach food...or can I not stomach food because subconsciously I don’t feel attractive and think if only I were thinner like them...or even more subconsciously--without food I can just whither away and become invisible like I already feel.

I mean, it hasn’t even been 3 months.

What I realized though, while sitting in the hot tub having a loud conversation with myself over the jets was that there are many men out there who disguise themselves as “feminists” but who are actually walking breathing misogynist asshole leaches.

Socially, women are brought up learning how to be nurturing and thoughtful of other people.

Men are taught that it’s okay to use women’s socially constructed tendencies of taking care of others as a way to get out of doing all the stupid shit that no one really wants to do.

Leaving it for us women.

What I mean here is that many men are perfectly fine with women doing the cleaning, the cooking, all of the planning, scheduling, organizing, bill paying etc. so they can do what they really enjoy.

Whether that’s some business exec who likes playing golf or some artist who likes wanking off on a canvas.

This is not 1952 anymore.

Please, people, let’s stop pretending it’s changed just because it’s masked by the scatters of daddy “daycares” and women CEOs.

(the fact that I have to put “daddy” and “women” in that sentence is a glaring indicator).

Okay. So. Many of you are probably thinking....

“oh girl you just be feeling used cuz you got cheated on by some dude.”

And yeah. I do feel used. And I know I’m not the only person who has gone through this type of relationship before.

You know the type--where you put love and thoughtfulness and energy into maintaining the relationship--even if it costs time and energy that could have went into other more beneficial things like book writing or art making or dinosaur riding, whatever.

What I am saying is that I now will be doing all my cooking, cleaning, organizing, working, creating for myself. And I don’t need anyone to hold my hand through it or anyone helping me get all the “shit” work out of the way... because my life will be more rewarding and fulfilling if I truly know how to Do. It. Myself.

Ain’t no one gonna hold me back.

And I’m gonna keep blocks blocked for a reason, yo.

Music Monday: If You Knew Better You Would Do Better.

I need a little pump up music energy boost this Monday. Oh, the hollordaze really got to me. So much food. So much drink. I need to dance it off. No really, if I don't dance soon I'magonnagocrazy. And when I say, I'm going to go, what I mean is that I'm going to become crazier than I already am.

I could be okay with that.

But I'd rather dance.

No official video for this song.

But.

You should know better.

10 Random Thoughts: Presents, Freedom, and Sexy Sex Oh My!

1) Is anyone creeped out by the Folgers commercial where the sister says to the brother, “you’re my present this year!” And then she looks at him, like he’s her “present.” Gross. I get freaked out every time it’s on. Plus the “African” wrapping paper that’s supposed to be an indication that “he was doing something heroic in some 3^rd world country somewhere where they don’t have good coffee,” –that also weirds me out.

2) How can I become a television script writer? I mean the stuff on their today is so bad, I could definitely write something just as bad if not worse, which is obviously the direction they’re going. I should probably just pretend to be an upper class white dude and then I’d totally be able to write sitcoms and dramedies. Or at least commercial jingles.

3) I wonder who in Long Island invented this “tea”? They should win some inventor’s prize.

4) Usually with online profiles, facebook, linked-in, ok cupid, the pic of yourself is supposed to, I don’t know, be one where you feel you look attractive. Do guys really think they look good in their online pic choices? Some of them look freaking higher than a kite, unshaved, blurry, dirty ass, sweaty, baseball-cap-wearing, lame wieners. (Never gonna get it, just sayin’).

(See how poor the picture quality is? And he's standing in a bathroom without even a real expression on his face. Try again. TRY AGAIN!!!)

5) I was talking to my friend the other day about how the act of shopping is itself the holiday experience. Or so it seems. And maybe that’s why I don’t feel very connected to this holiday. I don’t care to shop at places were things are new. I prefer to shop in dumpsters where things are free. And give the gift of dumpster finds to my friends and family year round instead of feeling the need to put something together at a particular time. It just doesn’t seem as thoughtful or sincere when it’s supposed to happen.

6) Does wrapping presents seem odd to anyone else? I mean, paying money for paper that’s just going to get ripped off and thrown away in less than a minute. I usually wrap with newspapers, but that’s not much better anymore since I never actual read real-life newspapers (yes I aware I write for one) but I read everything online. I guess, gifts need to become “virtual” gifts these days to save paper (and time and money).

7) I’ve noticed that in Kansas people eat a lot of white stuff. White flour, white ranch dressing, white mayonnaise, white potatoes, white cheese, white sugar. I think there’s a theme. Also—some times it’s disguised: chocolate cake, pepsi, French fries etc. but deep down we all know the root is white. No wonder people have weight issues. Not to mention the fact that produce around here is ridiculously expensive.

8) I’d really like to have the courage of a dog. Particularly these little lap dogs. I mean, they really have no consideration for gravity. They’ll just leap off of chairs and couches. They’ll fall back off of chairs and couches, without flinching, they’ll hop right back up, like it wasn’t no big thing. Like falling off furniture is just part of life. Plus the whole, “Oh, you just said no? Well, I’m going to do it any way,” attitude.

I like that.

9) I feel kind of guilty for not getting very thoughtful gifts for anyone this year. Usually I’m on top of that shit and even though I don’t spend a lot of money I at least exert effort. Though I have plenty of excuses I’d prefer to just fess up to the fact that I failed this year and acknowledge that I will try harder next year--(as long as I don’t break up boyfriend and have to move three times in a year. Oh wait. I won’t have a boyfriend, so no worries there.)

10) Many people seem to think I need to have a new boyfriend. I just want you all to know that I don't NEED or WANT that shit right now. Dudes are fun to hang out with, drink with, create weird creations with, but it hasn't even been four months yet. Give me a freaking break. Can't I just be alone? YYYEEESSS!!! And I will. As Salt n Peppa so poetically say, "If I wanna take a guy home with me tonight, it's none of urrrr business..."

Meaning--I'll do what I want.

Word.

And what I want is FFFREEEDDDOOMMMM.

(This is sexy freedom.... I grew out my hair just to take this picture).

Metronomes Kill Time (And My Soul).

They say narcissists cuss a lot. I don't know what the fuck they're talking about.





eace... (I like how this video ends mid-word... and how I sort of look mentally challenged).

Also...why have I waited until just now to do video blogs??? They're SOO much easier.

(I will stop soon and write real blogs again I promise).

And Life Just Gets More Entertaining When Your Parent's Dog Picks Out Your Dates.

My mom's dog Mindy recently helped me respond to a message I got on a popular free online dating site. Many people have asked me why I do this...

There are SOME cute guys. But really, the best way to look at it is like a garden... I am the garden and I have to keep plucking all of these weeds out. But occasionally I'll let a pretty flower blossom, but only if it's pretty. Then I'll pluck it's pretty head off and stick it in a vase until it withers up and dies and then I'll throw it away.

This particular guy was a doode who asked me if I wanted to chat. . .

Also, I apologize for the incredibly boring blogs lately. I umm... lead a very boring life right now. I mean, I'm not that bored. But I know I'm not very entertaining to you all.

My First Boring Ass Video Blog.

I was so lazy today that I decided to just record myself instead of actually write down anything...

You will soon discover why I usually write down everything (cuz I can delete "likes" and all the weird facial expressions)

Say. My. Name?

So. I’ve recently discovered I have a problem (I mean, I obviously have multiple problems but I am now aware of this one) the problem is I get crushes on people based on the sound of their names... I have this weird fetish for vowel-y type names, like the ones that roll off your tongue. I do not know what’s wrong with me. But if the name is like a little haiku or just beautiful sounding in general I will probably be crushing on that person. Which is really weird because the person often isn’t as great as the name; I find this disappointing over and over again. It really brings up questions on what’s in a name, and if a name really determines a person or not. Like, Krystal. Sparkling clear glass. I think that’s pretty accurate. But what do names like Jake or Mike or Ben really do? These people have to work really hard at creating an identity that is more than their name. Which may be why names don’t matter or aren’t as determining as people want to believe.

BECAUSE the ones with the weird cool names don’t have to try as hard--they’re already born with interestingness labeled on them. Even if they themselves aren’t interesting.

But who am I to determine who is interesting in general? I can only determine who's interesting to me and I think I need to stop crushing on people just because they sound nice, literally, but aren't literally nice (I'm sure some are, but it's not like, based on the sounds of their names).

Ugh.

Really what I was thinking is that I should not be crushing on these people but their parents, like whoever named them. Those are probably the interesting people.

Unless it's a last name and then I don't know what I'm supposed to do about that. . .

Yep.

Stop asking people their names I guess. This is the new plan. Then I won't crush on them and problem solved!

What's Beneficial About Friends with Benefits?

Alright. As promised. Here’s me going into the concept of friends-with-benefits a bit more.

I am aware that there is a movie coming out with this title. But I know nothing about the actual concept and I’m guessing it follows the romantic comedy genre exactly so that means—guess what—it’s not really friends—with—benefits. (Now I’m going to start abbreviating it FwB btw.)

What is FwB and how do two (or more) people make it work.

Well, first off, it doesn’t work.

But it does.

It works only as long as the two people involved can stay on the same page in regards to what they want. This is exactly how any relationship works and how all relationships that end (friends, lovers, companions) fail.

FwB is a relationship dynamic designed for the less-committal, the less-prepared for seriousness, the less-desiring of long-term long-haul love—in all actuality it’s designed exactly for ME!!!

What makes it seem like an impossible relationship dynamic for both sexes (any sex combo) comes from:

1) An underlying egotism 2) Fear of rejection 3) Fear of unforeseen future drama

No one wants to be the state someone passes through on their way to a better state, but let’s be serious we’re not all meant to be together forever. The very fact that we’re not all meant to be together forever should be the very reason why more FwB relationships exist.

Shorter time-span relationships that are beautifuldynamicsparklyfunsmartsexysensualchill.

As I mentioned before, people want to feel loved, duh. I’d say most people though, want endless love—that is someone to love them FOREVER. But let’s slow down for a second-- anytime you love someone that love exists in the universe forever—so if you’ve ever been loved you can’t be un-loved, just maybe not loved at that very second ha! (okay, too heady moving on. . .)

If we worked on getting over the notion that our love is limited than we would be less possessive of other people’s love and more of it could spread around (not like herpes, but like oxygen)--we could all feel it a little more.

So the scariest part, the part that keeps us from proceeding into this type of relationship is that we will end up not getting attention from that person anymore. And/or the benefits are going to make things weird. But, as my friend pointed out the other day—if there is already a strong sexual tension not acting on it is just as weird as acting on it. I mean, if you feel some sort of physical attraction and you both want to jump each other it seems perfectly reasonable to do so. What’s the big deal with sex again? If you’re not into organized religion than you should probably be into sex. And having sex with friends is fun!

Right? You’re not friends with someone unless you’re attracted to them on some level—this does not mean it’s sexual—but there is still an attraction.

What makes a good friend?

What makes benefits?

What makes it more than friends with benefits?

The establishment of boundaries.

Communication.

Explaining what you want to who you want it from.

Most people have problems with this. Particularly the communication part. Like, if they say what they want out loud there is a bigger chance they won’t get it. The logic here doesn’t really make sense. But, I guess it could stem from 1. Not really know what one wants, or 2. Being afraid that the other person isn’t going to want the same thing.

Again, if this person is your friend you should be able to bring it up and work something out, or it’s not a very good friend to begin with.

Am I making any sense here? Am I getting anywhere?

I don’t know.

I’m tired of rambling on about it, so instead I’m going to write a list of everything I look for in a potential FwB.

Top 10 Traits for Friends-with-Benefits Status:

1) Compatible sense of humor—“funny” doesn’t really cut it because there are just too many styles of “funny” out there. So, quick witted, sarcastic, challenging.

2) Hot. If there are going to be any benefits the person has to be attractive to me. So, this one is pretty standard.

3) At least intelligent about some things. To be perfectly honest, this all depends on the level of hotness I’m dealing with. Deal with it. Some people, though less physically attractive, have had the ability to arouse my mentality—which, as they say, the brain is the sexiest organ—so either super smart about things I am interested in—or hot and smart about things that I’m slightly interested in.

4) Financial stability. I am not your mother. I am not your chauffer. No, I will not make you sandwich. No, I will not clean your room. This person should be capable of handling his or her own shit.

5) Communication.

6.) Trust.

7) Open-mindedness.

8) Thoughtfulness.

9) An exertion of energy directed into making the relationship fun, meaningful enough, entertaining.

10) If this is more than friends...than the benefits have to be worthwhile of the time and energy put into it. There has to exist that tension. And if that ever fades, going back to just friends should be the plan.

Alright, well, I’m sure I’m missing a few important qualities, but I think that covers it pretty well. I understand that I have perhaps made it even more complicated than it already was, but maybe I’ll do another round and flesh out these ideas EVEN more.

Other thoughts/opinions are welcome.

Turn and Face the Strain. Chh. Chh. Changes.

Moving. One of life’s greatest joys. There really is nothing better than putting all of one’s stuff into boxes and bags, throwing them in an expensive rental truck, driving the ridiculously large rental truck through a big city and then carrying all the stuff (why is there so much stuff?) into a new place. It just makes me want to move every other weekend it’s so much fun.

But besides the paragraph of dripping sarcasm, perhaps I could dig a little deeper and find something a bit more meaningful.

Here goes.

Moving. A time of transition. The act itself, the carrying heavy objects over and over again is a sign of one’s commitment to change. A must needed physical challenge that gives the mind time to adjust to the idea that, yes, this is really happening. See, the bed is going into a new bedroom. The desk is going into a new office. The tv stand is going into a new living room (slowly and surely but it’s going). Watch as it all unfolds.

This time around I was luckily enough to have help from an (relatively) old loyal friend as well as a very new super awesome friend. Moving is where friendship is tested. If you can survive a move, you can pretty much survive anything. And the experience is always there to loom over the person when other favors are asked, such as, “remember that time I helped you move and like, you made me carry that massive bookshelf and I almost DIED?!? Now, please do ____ for me, you owe me.” And it’s true. Moving: a time to rack up the friendship favor points.

I don’t know. I’ve never had a problem helping other people move. I mean it doesn’t bother me like it does most people. It’s annoying when I have to move myself... but it’s because I have to organize it, pack it/unpack it, hope no one breaks any of it. When it’s someone else’s move, it’s usually pretty simple and only hard in the manual labor sort of way—which I actually like. It makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something. I am not offering my services to any of you dear readers; I’m just stating how I’ve felt about it in the past.

Anyway. I’m almost all unpacked! I look forward to writing many many lists, here’s a list of the lists I’m going to write.

(I love lists of lists)

1. things we need to buy for apartment

2. things wrong with apartment right now

3. what I need to do online when I go to coffee shop

4. groceries

5. things I want to do in Denver

6. year goals while living in Denver

7. okcupid dates (who’s in, who’s out)

8) things people can buy for me if they want to buy me presents (which everyone should)

10 Random Thoughts: Birth Controlled Nuns, Moving from Sexyville, And MORE!!!

1) I wonder if I make better food when I am drunk or if it just tastes better because I am drunk. Not drunk right now. Cooking though and curious if it's going to taste as good as it did last night. Unlikely.

2) For my job I get a lot of google alerts about fertility. Lately what's been trending is whether or not nuns should take birth control pills since they're child-less and at great risk for developing ovarian cancers etc. I'd just like to point out--they're nuns--they have GOD on their side. They don't need birth control, they just need prayer.

3) Speaking of birth control; I just saved one of my (many) vibrators from imminent battery-acid death! Long Live Snorkledorkle!?! Snicklewinkle?!? Whatever. Do people really name sex toys? Or do they just do that in the movies? Also, fun fact, in most Asian countries it is considered a sin to have sex with an inanimate object, which is why almost all current vibrators have faces on them. And why it's probably a good idea to give them a name. Snickadickle it is!

4) While on the subject of naming; I’ve decided to call my bass Chuck Bass, all of you non-gossipgirl lovers wouldn’t understand. But it's bass (as in guitar) and Bass (as in the fish). And I'll get to say, "I'm playing Chuck Bass hard." Which makes me giggle inside like a little school girl.

5) I should be getting my car back today, which is perfect timing because I'm moving to Denver TONIGHT!!! Crazy it's already happening. I'm pretty excited for it though, there seems to be a welcoming scene of beautiful creative people. Plus like so much more music happening, which I think is going to be therapy for my ears and my soul.

6) Will I miss Boulder? Nah, it's only like 40 minutes away. And everything I really liked about Boulder, The Catacombs, being close to the mountains, Pearl Street, ended when I moved to the south side anyway. Certain people I will miss, but again. We're not that far away.

7) A friend of mine and I were talking about the concept of "Friends with Benefits" the other day. She was saying that no guy ever really believes a girl wants that. And after I thought about it, I realized it all comes down to their over-inflated egos. They couldn't possibly imagine that a girl wouldn't want to be with them forever.

Listen guys, you're not as amazing as you think you are; sure I'm sure some of your ARE amazing to certain women. But to women actually actively seeking FwB status these women may think you're fun to be around, they may even think you're fun to have sex with, but that doesn't mean they want to ride away with you on a white horse into the sunset. (I plan to go into this more soon, it's a big one).

8) My hair is getting long...which is funny because it's still so short. I can't decide if I want to grow it out to more of a bob-like thing or re-chop it into a nice little pixie. I love having a pixie, it's the best haircut ever (in regards to maintenance, time, energy, effort). So. I may have just answered my own question. Unless there is strong resistance from my readers--like you can really convince me otherwise--I'm open to negotiations here.

9) Why are my feet ALWAYS so cold? I think it's because they're so big, blood just gives up when it gets there and is like, nope, not going to be able to circulate these things.

10) On a quick serious note--I just want to throw a shout out to all my friends who have been there with me through this transition (and to the new ones who have made me realize it's a good one to be going through)--appreciate the love.

Awh Shheeeeet. What's Happen' To Me? Giddy Up.

I remember this moment in sixth grade, walking through the halls with my friends after this study came out stating that like 60% of our school picked country music as their favorite kind of music and I turned to my friend and said, "I hope I never turn into a lame-ass and like country."

Well. This is hard to admit. But today, I succumb. I am now a lame-ass old woman who enjoys the twang. But, it's only one very specific album--okay, and Faith Hill's This Kiss (BFF will call me out if I don't say it now) so I'm questioning whether or not I should break-down and accept country in my life or just think of it as a fluke?

Perhaps, you can take a listen and tell me what you think?

Why I Don't Want To Have Babies: Round 37,027

As many of you loyal readers already know, I have a very strong lack of desire to have babies. Much of it stems from an irrational fear of the physical act itself--though I am aware that women everywhere have been doing it forever. Still the thought of something so large and so alive coming out of my body really freaks me out.

But I realized the other night that it's more than the physical. The underlying reason is that I don't want to be solely responsible for the upbringing of another human being; even if the father was around and there were two of us--that's not enough. The only way I'd EVER consider pushing one out is if I lived in an close-knit strong loving community of like-minded folks who worked collectively on the development of all people--children and adults--living in the space.

Our current society is constructed around the individual family unit and I do not feel that sort-of boxed in lifestyle is conducive to who I am and who I want to be.

The stereotypical "commune" is not what I'm looking for. Honestly, I think very few people of our generation are looking for that--but it's closer in model than what we have now.

For one thing, there has to be some sort of merging of the environmental necessities--being connected to the earth and each other physically, you know gardening, taking walks, having face to face conversations, touching each other (this does not have to be a sexual thing, though that would obviously happen)--with technological advancements--connecting us to others globally via the internet etc. with space and time to create/play/party juxtaposed with maintenance and labor of the community itself.

If that could happen, then and only then would I consider reproducing. Technically though, if other people in the community are doing it then I wouldn't have to bother because I could help with their upbringing without physically going through the stresses of pregnancy.

I'd like to point out that after talking with a friend last night about this community concept (not in detail) it has become an even more far-fetched idea. It doesn't work to run-away in some sort of escapism/avoidance tacit just for personal well-being; we're all connected to what's happening to our earth. So, as an example, he elucidated, if toxins are being dumped into the water supply those toxins will flow eventually into "happy time community-ville" and we'd all die of cancer/weird diseases too--along with everyone else.

I don't know, maybe there is some sort of compromise that could be made--like the community isn't actually escaping just banding together for the "greater good" and living a lifestyle they envision everyone leading eventually, yet at the same time working to end the atrocities that are happening every day on this earth.

Yes!?! Who's with me?

My Adventures in Online Dating: Round 1.

So, I've gone on two OKC dates since I began my online adventures a month ago. I'm a little weirded out.

Both guys have been like 6"4. Hairy chested spunky characters. But I think what weirds me out the most is that both have perfectly manicured apartments, brightly painted colorful walls with really terrible art. But nice. Like, metrosexual nice.

Is this a thing guys in their 30s are doing?

I have rarely dated older guys. They're usually not my type. But I've decided to expand my horizons and give non-typical-types a shot. I think if I keep this up I could become an art dealer. I could just go into these 30-somethings apartments and be like, nope, this shit is ugly, I'm going to hook you up with an original ________; I'd hire an MFA student to paint something, and then take a percentage; it would work out for everyone. (Yes, this is actually a pretty good idea--don't even think about thief-ing it.)

Anyway. I've also been having regular conversations with dudes on OKC to sort of even out all of the really bad ones--an ok-karma game, if it worked that way. I've even had a conversation with this dude whose grammar is so bad he doesn't even use the correct words in sentences. But I've kept talking to him without being an asshole... because I'm trying to give guys a better shot. Though first impressions--even online--are generally pretty accurate.

Finally, I've been sort of seeing this guy, a guy that I did not meet on OKC but found his profile on there like a week later--so it sort of connects to my OKC life. I don't really know what to think of him. He's been acting rather dooode-ish lately. Ya ladies know whatimatalkin bout. video games. enough said. And I just need way more attention. I don't think people understand the amount of attention that is required in keeping my interest piqued. It's really a ridiculous amount. If I could I'd scale it down, but I can't so I get it however I can. If you want to get with this there has to be at least some sort of effort. I don't think that's too much to ask.

So, there you have it. My current adventures in online dating.

I think when I move to Denver I'm going to try to go on a different OKC date every night for a week. I can just imagine the stories now. I will, of course, blog daily about it, just for you dear reader, just for you.

Post Break-Up Update. News + Drama + Top 20 List.

I think this could be the messiest my life has ever been. But, in regards to messes, I've seen others that have been much worse (*cough* gossip girl). Thus, I don't want to complain because I know it's all going to work out. The major problem is that I am not comfortable being in the in-between. The space of unanswered questions, where I seem to be waiting, wondering, wandering, basically floating.

I've never been a floater.

Here's the story in case you've been out of town. . . when my ex and I broke up, the founder of the non-profit I work for offered her home to me to live and work in--I accepted as it worked out best for both of us--I got away from the toxic "ex" space and she got to live with me... or better yet she no longer had to pay me a salary as I got paid in room and board.

All of this was fine and dandy until OK Cupid came into our lives.

(Can I just say OK Cupid has created a lot of recent drama in my life.)

She fell in love.

Fast.

I am not one to judge the speed at which others fall in love--though I will admit to being rather bitter about "love" right now anyway, considering--but now, she is moving out of the house we were roomies in and into his house.

Leaving me in purgatory.

I don't know how long I can stay or where I should go when I am forced to leave.

So.

I quit roller derby.

I know, it's sad. I only made it to three practices, which just goes to show my commitment level to life right now is just not very high. Probably because my number one priority is not playing a game, but figuring out my reality.

Instead of actually sitting down and figuring out my reality I've been choosing distraction, usually in the form of food and television. I'm pretty sure I've finally gained back all the weight I lost during the break-up, which is rather sad considering I could fit into skinny jeans rather well. (I'll fast after the holiday.)

Anyhoo, so at this point in my life I could essentially go anywhere and do (almost) anything. This has never happened. I have always had a plan. Life without a plan is frightening. Debilitating. Long and short at the same time.

Here are some of my options:

1) Move to Denver and stay working for the non-profit/ find a supplemental job.

2) Move somewhere in Boulder and keep on keeping on.

3) Search the entire country for new jobs and move to one of those.

4) Put all my shit in storage and couch-surf around the country.

5) Move to South America.

6) Find a sugar daddy (mommy).

7) Occupy

8) No, mom, I will not move back in with you.

9) Find a witch and have her turn me into a cat.

10) Find a witch and have her put a wealth spell on me so I win the lottery (yeah, even if I don't buy a ticket)

11) Buy a lottery ticket.

12) Find someone driving somewhere, catch a ride and disappear.

13) Rent a room from someone.

14) Eat more pie.

15) Start doing lots of drugs.

16) Become a prostitute.

17) Ride a horse off into the sunset.

18) Find a psychic and have her tell me what's in store.

19) Pretend I have some sort of addiction and go to rehab.

20) Jump trains for days.

10 Random Thoughts: Fortunes, Occupy, and the Dating Life.

1) The other day I got a fortune cookie (that I could actually eat), it read, "No one is standing in your way anymore, time to moving forward." Besides the hilarious grammar issues, I hadn't before realized that indeed someone was standing in my way. I've never in my life had a fortune cookie that was literally significant. I'm afraid I may be reading into things too much now. Or maybe I want to believe in something magical.

2) What exactly could moving forward look like? It could look like anything. I think that's why I haven't moved very far. When there are too many choices it becomes debilitating. Maybe that's a subconscious reason why I'm vegan, less options makes life easier more often.

3) I bought a livingsocial coupon, $50 for a truck, 3 months storage unit space AND Avalanche tickets--not sure why they were giving away Avalanche tickets, but at least now I have a back-up if I want to escape Boulder and become a professional couch surfer. After I watch a professional hockey game, of course.

4) We all want to live in a better world, but few people are actually willing to make the sacrifices--time, energy, effort, to make this happen. So much apathy. So much, "oh, I totally am behind what the Occupy people are doing," though they're never like literally behind them. Standing there.

5) I’ll tell you why I’m an (Occupy) hypocrite. I’ve been to a few of the events and I find them tiring. It’s still full of white guys blabbing their mouths off and no one stopping them as they keep saying stupid shit. Working within the same paradigm will only create the same problems. We need a complete shift and this happens with consciousness, a change in thinking that takes over an entire population. This mean letting new voices speak up, voices that don’t get a platform very often, if ever. Occupy gives us the opportunity to have dialogue with people on these issues of intersecting oppressions (class, race, gender, etc) again and again, and it’s within this dialogue that shifts will happen. The symbolism of an occupation is helpful, but it comes down to being able to influence change through conversation, enthusiasm, and literal solutions. (This is obviously coming from my standpoint in Boulder, CO, I’m sure the atmosphere is different in different parts of the country)

6) I am not an expert on social change... just a Master. Bah. That’s so pretentious. I welcome full arguments on this topic.

7) Ok Cupid is driving me nuts. Luckily my message level has decreased. But I haven’t replied to any one, good or bad, for like ever. The “hi how you doin” messages are getting really old. And all the guys are starting to look the same. The appeal is over. Though I never had plans to fall in love I had thought I could meet some cool people to hang out with. I guess I’ll leave that to real life.

8) Yesterday I had several people ask me if I had gotten a haircut, or complimented my “new” hair cut. What’s weird about this? I haven’t cut my hair in months. In fact, it’s grown out, A LOT, which must be what it was. Also, I hadn’t combed it. I just ran my fingers through it so it sort of just stood on top of my head. It’s like the best hair ever... I don’t do anything with it. Should have pixie-ed it years ago. (yay to lazyvainness)

9) I think I need to go to coffee shops more often. I actually get things done. Must be the collective work mode we’re all in. When I drink coffee at home I just go ADD about everything and hop from one project, thought, tv show, song, to another. Then my day is gone. It’s annoying. I guess it’s worth paying the extra money if that means I accomplish and finish projects.

10) Today I will do something creative, visual art, music, something. Hold me to it. If I don’t I’ll cover my body in dead leaves and let the worms eat me (maybe I’ll film it and that will be my art project).

Which Way is Which Way?

I did not punch anyone in the face last night. I didn't punch anyone anywhere except with my brain power.

Okay, not really my brain power, but our trivia-table's collective brain power. For only three of us, we did pretty freakin good. My contributing efforts consisted of motivating my friends to dig deep within their minds to come up with the answers, and then when they did, I happily "chugged" the beer that came with winning. It was really important because I was not the designated driver and it was what I happen to excel in--though I never actually "chugged" it, I sipped it and took it back to my table to have through the next round (b/c I'm smart and cheap).

But who cares.

The point is I didn't punch anyone.

And I think I really should have, because this morning I'm slightly depressed. No, I won't blame it on the depressants that I have been over-consuming. I know where it's coming from and I find it irritating, but there is nothing I can do right now except let it pass through.

I guess it's nice knowing it's going to pass as opposed to thinking I could feel like this forever, that would only make it more depressing.

I just need comfort food and direction.

I seriously would be okay with someone else taking charge of my life, even if it's just for a day. Any takers?

Why Don't More Women Get in Bar Fights (with men)?

So tonight I'm going to get in my First Ever Bar Fight!!!!!

This is weird. I am aware that people don't typically "plan" bar fights, but the truth of the matter is, I think my testosterone is out of whack--all I've wanted to do lately is either have sex or punch things...And I haven't been punching many things. So. Yeah. I thought I'd test it out.

Getting off birth control is crazy time. I'm pretty sure my body is just entirely confused. As I am no longer "pregnant" every month. I think it's a really fucked up thing to do to one's body over and over again for almost ten years, it could not have been healthy--though in my defense having a child would have been even more unhealthy--particularly for the child.

But anyway, yeah. I have never punched anyone before. One time though, a girl punched me in the forehead--I only slightly deserved it--the forehead was a terrible choice. I will not punch anyone in the forehead. I'm thinking right side jawbone.

I'm doing this in pure defense of my own honor.

Okay. I probably won't do it at all. I don't have it in me to hurt other people just because they're assholes. Cuz if I got punched every time I acted like an asshole... well. Yeah. I think I'd be pretty freaking deformed by now.

But the idea just sounds so, I don't know, exhilarating. Probably because it's the opposite of who I am... and maybe I need to be my opposite for a bit. Allow my evil side to escape, so it gets out and away from me?

I'll keep you all informed. I may need you to bail me out!

Whipped My Ass.

Yesterday was Day 3 of my Roller Derby training. No, I'm not playing games yet. And no, I probably won't be for some time.

Yesterday I did crash hardcore though...over and over again.

And my wheel flew off my skate--but no worries, I didn't die!

I didn't really even get hurt, though the first fall was epic and had me not just crash, but flip over myself. No bruises to prove it, which I find rather sad.

I mean, what's a good fall without proof?

Maybe it's just an internal organ bruise--just what I need.

To be honest, I was kind of dreading going to practice; I think it's because I suck so much and hate sucking at things. I truly can't stand it. I want to immediately be good. And for some things I am, but most things, especially things involving wheels under my feet, I'm not.

But obviously being immediately good at everything is not how life works, at least not my life, no, in my life I have to work at it.

So.

I went and I improved--not drastically, but slightly and that's all I can do for now.

I am not dreading it anymore. I'm actually excited to see my improvement over time, and to do something for myself that physical, mental, and fun. I'm getting ripped, btw. And soon, I'll wear the booty shorts to prove it.

What's So Great About a Routine?

As many of you may recall I quit birth control cold tofurkey back in late September.

I've been waiting for the day when I could get on here and say Aunt Flo is in the hizzy; but still, she has not came to visit.

I'm wondering if I should be freaking out? I am not freaking out. But I'm curious to find out when my body will get back on track, back into a pattern, perhaps when that happens I will too?

Routine would be nice. But also, my life doesn't really bend well to routine. Schedules are actually making me anxious. For example, roller-derby, twice a week, at very specific times; it's not the fact that I am putting my 150# body on 8 wheels and circling around on a cement floor as fast as I can, but that I have to do it at a designated time. That makes me nervous. Isn't that weird?

I don't know what's wrong with me.

I'm sure there are plenty of things.

Maybe I already mentioned this, but I would really love events to be like Netflix movies; you can pick the time and day you want to go; instead of them being "pre-scheduled" on specific dates. But, alas, life doesn't work that way.

If I was a better life-designer I'd invite a way.

But for now, I'll just keep waiting, period.

(One of the many reasons why I'd never wanna be knocked up)

Shift It All Into Place. A Better Place.

So, my morning has sucked so far. For different reasons that are boring and trite. What I'm trying to figure out is if it's possible to turn a day that started off so sucky into a day that's awesome?

Because you know that feeling, like, when it all starts adding up, and the mood seems stuck?

Stuck in a muddle of irritating buzzes; deep sighs, silent screams.

Re-centering is the only way.

Or perhaps it's just the alignment of the stars and I should hide for the day?

Maybe I'll just do some back bends... that could shift everything.

Or at least shift my perspective.

(Also have you checked out my new website Aimless Cupid?)

It's Not About Love: Online Dating Adventures. (And Music Monday)

I know many of you have been curious about my new online dating life. Well, the website is finally up, Aimless Cupid: They Shoot, But They Don't Score.

Meeting people in real life, not through online sites, works out much better. It's very difficult to tell if there is any chemistry based on our percent match, or questions we answered, or even how they look in pictures; just because they're cute and funny doesn't mean there will be any type of connection. It can actually be a downer, going into it thinking how they're so charming and clever online and then to meet in reality and discover they're actually awkward and boring. (I know this goes both ways).

Anyway. It's Music Monday too, so here's a little Fiona Apple to set the mood while you check out the new site!

My First Roller Derby Practice: Success!

This was my first derby outfit.

It was not enough clothing. I, in fact, almost froze to death.

That's right. Death.

We play in a secret warehouse that has no heat. It's pretty much the most D.I.Y. sport I've ever ben apart of.

The secret of being a successful derby girl: duct tape, lots of duct tape. Really, you just have to wrap your entire body in duct tape and you're good to go.

Like my skates that I'm borrowing, full of holes and tears, but not after we fixed them up and turned them into ductskates.

Did I fall, you wonder?

No freakin way! I mean, I will, I totally will, a lot, but I did not last night. That's how good I am. And we also only skated for like 30 minutes, slowly.

The women are amazing. The skating is painful. The warehouse is creepy.

This is going to be good.

10 Quickies (Not the Kind You Think).

1) I have been working all day long. This is an accomplishment.

2) I also washed my sheets.

3) And brought back my planner.

4.) I am on top of shit.

5.) I have yet to actually get dressed in clothing that people don't just sleep in. Like I could put on a bra maybe, or some jeans.

6.) But, I got work done. And I'm not stopping yet.

7.) Soon, I'll have finished a blog post, so I can cross that off my list.

8.) Roller Derby tonight. First time. I'll blog about it tomorrow, so you all know what happened. I can tell you ahead of time: I fall down.

9.) I met a cute guy. Or two.

10.) You want more don't you? Well, I'll fill you in later. When I know more. The ridiculous messages have slowed down. I think it helped that I removed certain "wants" from my profile. And I am no longer "fresh" or "new," me being on there a week now.

Abracadabra...in your pants.

Last night I stole a ring from a magician.

Did you read that?

I stole. From a magician.

And now I have his super powers because it was all trapped inside this ridiculous ring.

He was not "dressed up" as a magician but being his "true" self, card tricks and all.

Halloween is weird.

Music Monday: You Can't Handle This. Mhhmm.

Every day I think, today is the day that Robyn is finally going to get old. But then I listen to her and I fall for it again. It's like dance-crack. So, here's more Robyn for everyone's Music Monday.

And also, what do you think of me copying her hair cut? I've never bleached it out before. I'd probably look like crap. But, maybe I wouldn't.

Okay, Seriously...Cupid?

I didn't realize that being single was actually going to be a full-time job. I understand now why long-term relationships happen--the game is ridiculous. I joined OK Cupid just for kicks and I got over 50 different dude messages in 2 days. 50 guys in 2 days. I bet there's a porn with that title somewhere. . . anyway. It's exhausting. And I haven't even gone on a date with any of them yet. I have though learned how to narrow it down.

Here are 10 reasons why I won't date you.

1) You have "dick," "sex," "lonely," "desperate," "horny," "psycho," some sort of animal, or some sort of combination of those words as your screen name.

2) You have a picture of yourself shooting a gun. Why do you think women like this? They don't.

3) You don't have a picture at all. Or you just have one and it's like a black and white close up of half of your face.

4) You ask to see me on my webcam.

5) This isn't a complete deal-breaker but, if you have a picture of yourself on a mountain, or climbing a mountain, or out on a trail...this is Boulder and that has become cliche.

6) You write a sentence that reads something like, "hey hot stuff, what u up to..." or "feeling frisky tonight?" etc.

7) You send me an incredibly long (or short) erotic fiction story.

8) You make some lame comment about some part of my body like, "I like the shape of your boobs."

9) You write sentences that just don't make sense.

10) You're ugly. (Oh yeah, I know that sounds really mean, but I know not every one thinks I'm attractive and I don't feel the need to act like physical attraction doesn't play a role in all of this.)

All of these things have happened AND more! Oh the single life, I still don't get how people do it.

(Here's an example...if you can read it)

My Boobs Do Not Need to Rest.

Has anyone else tried to buy a bra lately?

It's ridiculous out there.

All I wanted was a basic black bra lightly padded/lined so my nipples wouldn't stick out of my sweaters like they like to do.

What were my options?

Pillows for my breasts.

That's right. All of the bras were so padded it would have been like a bed for my boobs.

I mean really?

This is fucked up in multiple ways--mainly the illusion of bigger breasts for no one's gain except maybe some creepo at a bar, cause once you take it off the real size will shine through. And what's the point really if every woman is wearing a bra that makes their boobs 2x larger, everyone would still have the same size, the only difference is we'd all seem so much bigger--the small boobs would still be smaller (even if they appeared larger).

Also, shirts. If you buy a bra that makes your boobs two to three times larger than they typically are, your shirts aren't going to fit like they used to.

What's wrong with breasts of all sizes? It would be really boring and unsexy if women all had 36Cs (that's me in case you want to buy me a non-pillow bra), and boobs probably wouldn't be as fascinating as they are in our society.

It just weirded me out.

Eventually I found one hidden amongst the inflated masses. So, at least some regular bras still exist. For now. No telling what they'll invent for our boobs' futures.

(Maybe we can invent a society that likes boobs... just as they are)

Music Monday: Watcha Do That For?

It's been awhile since I've posted a Music Monday, but here it goes.

Ms. Lily Allen telling it like it is, again. Slightly old-school, but it really nails my current situation. And it made me smile. That evil sort of smile, I shouldn't be smiling. I am probably in no state to watch Revenge either but I still do that too. Muhaha. Cackle. Cackle.

Another Day Wasted By Germs.

When I said nothing, I didn't literally mean "nothing." But that is exactly what's been happening the last two days. I've been in my woman-cave (aka woca) watching Netflix movies, drinking apple juice, and coughing. Lots of coughing. Which led to shots of Nyquil, which led to me sleeping like 14 hours in a row.

Now I'm freaking bored out of my skull, but way too tired to leave the woca and actually do something. I wouldn't know what to do anyway. The things that I'd want to do require so much energy, Occupy, Zombie Crawl, Drinking, Dancing, yeah. I can barely even type without almost falling asleep. I don't think I could ever handle getting really sick, a basic cold makes me completely over-dramatic.

Maybe if I take another nap, then get up and drink some espresso I'll be good to go.

Or perhaps the cold is just my body's way of telling me to stop. think. figure my freaking life out.

Ain't goin happen overnight. especially if that overnight includes sleeping pills.

Eventually though, eventually.

One of Those Really Boring Blog Updates That No One Really Cares About.

I feel like I've been blogging more than I have, but I haven't. Nope, I have not been blogging at my usual pace of almost daily. What have I been doing you ask? Well, that's a really good question. One that deserves a really good answer.

I haven't been doing anything. Really. I've just been fucking around. I've barely been thinking, and I certainly haven't been spelling words correctly (this is a rare case).

And I want to let you all in on a little secret. I don't feel bad about it at all. That's right. You can take your plans, your goals, your to-do lists and shove them wherever you want to shove them because I'm over it.

I've been running, running, running trying to be "successful" and now instead I'm just going to be. Take it all buddhist-y if you want, that's fine, but don't read into that too much. I'm going to do one day at a time (not the AA way) and enjoy the experience of just living.

WHHHHHAAAAAATTT???

Crazy time.

(I've also considered helping these Occupy people get their shit together, but that would be like a goal....so, yeah.)

Here's a little throw-back tune for your pure enjoyment.

Why Vegans Aren't Afraid of a Zombie Apocalypse.

Yesterday, a group of amazing people and I went to hear Melanie Joy speak. She's the author of Why We Love Dogs, Eat Cows and Wear Pigs.

A few hours later we went to a Haunted House.

I realized I can handle zombies and psychos much easier than say, baby pig castration.

Yeah, the Melanie Joy talk was much more frightening than Zombieland.

Because Zombieland is not real. And mega-meat-industry does take boy chickens by the barrel-full and suffocates them. Or puts the fuzzy yellow boy cuties through a grinder. That's right, a grinder. By the heap-fulls.

We often talk about the interlocking connections of oppression of this violence-dominanting society and how women and animals share similar power struggles, but what does it mean when males, by the millions are slaughtered for being worthless, for not being able to grow quickly enough to be eaten...or to be eaten quickly because babymeat is much more "tender?"

Dead baby boy chickens, dead baby boy cows, dead because they're not "useful." Only the best of the best can be part of this earth. Only the most genetically sound can grow into adulthood-- and that's just to get their sperm.

This is disgusting.

This is scary.

Maybe the Zombies aren't so frightening because I'm around them all the time anyway already.