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On Mother Nature, Tacos, and being a great “angry New Yorker”

If you aren’t female, you probably shouldn’t read this.

Seriously.

Turn back now.

This is a bad idea.

Just…

Just stop.

But if you ARE female and have had those special talks with Mother Nature that delve into your finest and most well kept insults, slurs, and vituperations full of vibrant language only a sailor could be proud of, then please do continue and unite in a universal detestation of that loathsome bitch we love to hate.

If you are like a good portion of the population out there you have both met and gotten very friendly and comfortable with birth control. That lovely little pill that makes it okay to hate condoms! And when I say tiny, I am NOT exaggerating. I mean, really! We get it, birth control is frowned upon and we don’t want the world knowing we are sexually active – modesty, and all that jazz – but why do you have to make it so easy to lose? What is the thinking behind that?…Oh, so you wanna GO AGAINST THE WISHES OF THE ALL POWERFUL BEING?? Fine. But don’t expect it to be easy. You whore!

So you take this teeny, tiny, super pill that gives you the ability to alter your body into a state of confusion so great that it thinks it is with child and treats you extra special because, well, there are myriad reasons why a person might treat you special!…don’t make me spell them all out for you. But eventually the reason we all end up continuing to take it is because we know it will save us from anything untoward happening.  However, untowardness aside, an attention whore is still a whore, girls.  You don’t need that extra special treatment from your BC to know you are loved!  I want all of you to get up right now, stand in front of a mirror, and hug yourself.  Go, my little minions.

…did you do it? No?!? Yeah, me neither.  But it’s the thought that counts. *air high five* You go girl! You THOUGHT about it!  Anyway, back to BC – For many years you are accustomed to keeping a close eye on the time lest you have to excuse yourself to swallow the microscopic super power, and you don’t ever go anywhere without it because you and your BC must be one.  Without it, well…you, boy, and baby could make three, and what an impressive quantitative equation for only one night. One plus one equals…what?  THREE??? What madness is this?? Oh, that’s right.  It is the law according to THE ALL POWERFUL BEING.  Remember kids, you can only control so much and nothing is 100%.  But you keep taking it and relying on it and…not having any real clue what it is doing to your body.  Until that fateful day when you forget to take it for three days in a row, which brings me to my situation.  Suddenly, and rather unexpectedly, my breast began to throb with pain, swell, and form a lovely lump resulting in my paying 600 dollars in doctors bills to find out that it is “hormones.”  Fuck. That. Threw those left over bitches in the trashcan and have been BC-less for almost two months now.  You know what?  It doesn’t suck as bad as I thought it might.  Yes, my back does hurt significantly more (the easing of the back pain is why I originally began taking it in High School when I was so sexually inactive that I would have made a great abstinence billboard) but that seems to be the only downside.  Except for the raging bitch epidemic.  But I’ll get to that later.

This all brings me to my Jesus talk with Mother Nature and it went a little something like this:

MN:  Okay, I know I make life a living hell for you for a week, and I’d like to make it up to you.

Me:  Fuck you. I don’t trust you.

MN:  I understand.  I haven’t been kind to you in your life.  And I feel genuinely bad about that.

Me:  Damnit! I left my wellies at home.  Would you mind cutting back on the bullshit?

MN:  I know you have lost your appetite and your sex drive  – two things you have always been proud of – and I would like to help you get them back.

Me:  Make your point, you bitch.

MN:  That’s my point.  I’m going to give them back to you once every month.

Me:  Oh. My. God.

MN:  Now instead of having something to dread all week, you will have something to look forward to!

Me:  Please tell me that you’re fucking with me.

MN:  Is that your way of saying “thank you?”

Me:  YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE ME A SEX DRIVE FOR THE ONE WEEK DURING THE MONTH THAT I SHOULDN’T HAVE ONE?!?

MN:  ….

Me:  AND!! …And! You are going to let me eat during the one week that I feel the most disgusting and don’t want to want to eat?

MN:  ….

Me:  This is you being nice?

It never ends well when we get together but we have yet to completely cut ties.  I suppose that means I actually love her….whatever.  This conversation took place not long before my birthday rolled around and people started asking me what I wanted to for birthday dinner.  Food?  At a time like this?  Who did they think I was?? Oh, I know!! ME! That’s who they thought I was!! The person who can eat an entire pizza by herself and follow it up with ice cream and salt infested potatoes.  Exactly how was I to explain to everyone that I could no longer be at the top of the eating contest list?  That I physically could not eat?  The answer is, I couldn’t.  Nobody wanted to believe me because, well, watching a “skinny” girl eat is apparently always a treat.  People.  Keep.  Feeding.  Me.  It may seem as though I am complaining, but how can a monetarily challenged person refuse free food?  You can’t. You just can’t. So, here my friends think I still have my normal appetite and I begin to accidentally horde food at work. Sometimes I go to work with a practically empty lunchbox and come home with some food.  It’s awesome.

On one particular day a coworker brought me three tacos which I promptly put in my lunchbox, fantasizing about the lovely taco dinner I would be having when I got home. Unfortunately, when I got home, my stomach was not as excited about the tacos as I was and I was only able to enjoy a few bites before my stomach protested. But I wanted that damn taco so I made him shut up until I was finished. My stomach can be so dramatic! So, into the fridge the two leftover tacos, conveniently packaged to cover my next two meals…damn you stomach. Later that night, while dead asleep, I was awoken by a rustle. A paper rustle.  A paper rustle that sounded suspiciously like a taco wrapper. I yelled out at roommate, “are you eating my taco?!?” The look on that mans face when he came in eating my taco…priceless. It was three in the morning, I woke from a dead sleep, and proceeded to yell at poor roomie. It was like watching a puppy back into a corner – this was only the beginning of the raging bitch I mentioned earlier. With little to no provocation, I was making men quiver. Thanks Mother Nature, you know how to make a girl feel super awesome *thumbs up!* Soon I was capable of making every living creature I encountered fully grasp why I was so vehement about my ability to emulate the stereotypical “angry New Yorker” when I witnessed an injustice being done to someone I felt protective over. No longer did I need any kind of provocation to yell out a string of perfectly placed obscenities mixed in with some semblance of a sentence mostly hidden by the insult baring its ugly teeth.  All I needed was a little oxygen.  Apparently.

If you made it through all that, I applaud you.  It felt very meander-y. Because I wander.  Anywho…

May your days be filled with tacos that aren’t eaten, cathartic conversations with imaginary beings, and lots of serotonin to fill the gaps.

-S

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Love is…falling down but knowing you will get back up.

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When you fall down you never wonder about whether or not you will be able to get up, you just do it.  You pop back up and move on.  Maybe you have a few bumps and bruises but you are usually fine.  Personally, I love falling.  Falling down.  Falling in love.  Falling apart.  Falling behind.  Falling for a joke.  Unfortunately not all falling is as easy to recover from as falling down even though it is really the same basic concept.

Falling in love is especially difficult to recover from once you hit the ground.  You know you will be able to get up but you just aren’t sure how and it seems like an especially impossible feat when face meets asphalt after your first love disappears into the horizon and you are left there wondering how exactly the sun is now smirking at you from such an odd angle.  Soon you realize that the heat in your flushed cheeks is not, in fact, from this asphalt ground you picture yourself lying on; instead it is a mixture of anger, sadness, depression, confusion, desperation, anxiety, pain, agony, and a whole hodgepodge of unidentifiable emotions screaming through your head in delirium.  It’s an improbably painful fever broken only by the seemingly unattainable sanity of reality.  A reality that can only be seen through the eyes of a person whose entire being isn’t overwhelmed with daggers of pain and whose heart isn’t decorated with gaping holes where someone else used to live so comfortably.

Somehow though, after living in your own comfortable bubble of darkness for days, weeks, or months, someone finally penetrates the bubble and starts to let light back in.  Lends you a hand you are finally willing to accept and hold on to for dear life as you start your slow return from the supine position you had previously believed you would assume for the rest of your unlovable existence.  Because at some point you realize that you have been festering – dwelling on the same hurt and pain, regurgitating the same false beliefs that your irrational brain has set to repeat, playing them over and over until you are so brainwashed and numb that you begin to believe up is down and left is right.  As an aside, it was around this time that I decided that I would repeat this gem to myself: left is always right, except of course when it’s wrong.  I figured if my brain was going to fuck up my thinking I might as well try to fuck up my whole world while I was at it…except now it’s kind of my motto since it basically makes no sense to anybody who isn’t as psychotic as me.

Once you start to get your thoughts and feelings sorted back out and stop letting the irrational beat out the rational things begin to look up again, albeit very slowly.  Positivity is easy to put out into the world but it is quite another thing to be on the receiving end of.  Accepting the bright side after falling down into a deep abyss of loneliness and pain is almost an affront.  How dare people think we should be happy again after such debilitating pain!  Fuckers.  But, as we all know, just like falling down, we must get back up.  We must continue onward.  And this is why I love falling, because each time you do it, getting back up becomes easier.  Figuring out how to stand on your own again begins to become second nature.  You start to believe that not only will you be okay, but you will love again.  You will.  Because love is out there.  It’s in you.  It’s everywhere.  You just have to find it.

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I could love anyone. Love is easy. You can find something to love inside everyone and I think everybody deserves to be loved.  However, just because I could love anybody doesn’t mean I should.  As seen in my fail date posts 1 and 2 (3 and 4 are currently in draft form) I’m not always the best at picking people with which I am compatible.  I am rather terrible at it, to be truthful.  When I am proactive about dating I always go for the wrong people because I want to give everybody a chance but when I am not really trying I can find someone perfect for me…perfect for me but at the most incredibly wrong time.  A dilemma I am fairly certain we have all come face to face with on more than one occasion.  For the longest time I told myself that this was a sign proving to me that I would be alone forever, but now I am convinced that it means at one point I will meet the right guy at the right time and everything will work out.  Until then I will remain firm in my faith and my hope because I have learned that when I lose both of those I go back to my old ways of going after the person that I know will hurt me most.

Going back to someone who hurts us is a common denominator among all human beings who have experienced love.  I think the reason we do it is because we like the pain.  We think the pain is part of the love.  We believe that love, without pain, is no love at all!  We have to take the good with the bad, right?  Wrong.  True, there will always be difficult times but I can tell you now that they will never be as difficult as whatever that person continues to put you through.  Just because you love them doesn’t mean they hold the same caliber of affection for you.  Learning that you deserve better and then forcing yourself to let go of the bad and go for what you deserve is probably more difficult than getting off that ground once you have fallen.  I still have trouble believing that I deserve anything.  I fall into the trap of thinking that nobody will want me around for very long because I’m not pretty enough or smart enough or skinny enough or rich enough or kind enough or stable enough.  I have flaws and therefore nobody will love me – that is a thought that likes to resurface quite often and pushing it back down is not as easy as I thought it would be.  But I am trying.  Every day.  Because I have hope that at some point I will find someone who really sees me and realizes that they can never let me go.  When I really see who a person is that’s how I feel, but I usually have to settle for just being friends but at least I get to keep them in my life.

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So always remember that when you fall, you can get back up.  You will know when you meet the right person because you will see them and they will see you inside and out. They will know you and you will know them and together you will make sense.  And this person?  This person will be right beside you every time you fall, catching you before you can hit the ground.

-S

P.S. As always I feel the need to sign off in a very me kind of way so…

May your week be filled with random glitter bombs thrown at coworkers, may your mornings be spiked with coffee and rock and roll, and may your Friday begin and end with a break-for-dance moment.

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