EX Factor

Now that I have two exes, I can compare and contrast them. I've been taking plenty of time to think on it, and I've never been so ready to express something publicly.

Most people find the stories of how people meet to be extremely interesting. Neither of mine are noteworthy.

I met Ronnie while I was at work, in the Men's Department. I was folding jeans and I saw him walk in. I totally knew he was staring at me, and I just soaked it up. His younger sister, told me that he liked me, and asked for my number for him. I wasn't impressed that he couldn't approach me himself. I just wrote my name on a piece of paper because of it.

Stevenson and I met on Facebook. He randomly added me, so I accepted (because I accept everyone that isn't creepy). I liked one of his statuses about politics. Apparently there was a spelling error in it because about two seconds after I liked it he sent me a message letting me know he re-posted his status. I kept replying to his replies because it was so adorable how he needed an excuse to talk to me. We did have sex the first day we met in person though.

Despite my unapproachable disposition they both made a move on me. It bugs me that neither was to my face, but whatever. Stevenson wins.

"When did you meet?" always seemed to be a popular question, as well as "When did you start dating?"

I knew Ronnie for two weeks before I dated him. He asked me out (or I asked him?) on January 7, 2010 which is his birthday. It was at my house, which I didn't really mind.

On the other hand, I knew Stevenson for three weeks before we started dating. He had asked me out after I knew him for a week and a half. I then told him I'd ask him out when I was ready since I knew he just wanted to put a leash on me and I wasn't ready to lose my freedom. I asked him out a week and a half after that, May 7, 2011.

Ronnie wins, since Stevenson attempted to pressure me.

This is the one that I would would ask first about someone's relationship--"What was your sex life like?"

I'm currently having sex with Ronnie, as friends, therefore that explains itself. :)

With Stevenson, there was an issue. He wasn't as into me as I was into him. I feed off of other people's energy. And you get what you give. To be fair, I gave him more than what he gave me because he was a dead fish (and that's putting it lightly). I would just hit it and quit it. Most people wouldn't mind a sex puppet, but I'm just not that kind of girl. Like, ew.

The BEST part is, the day I broke up with him, we had been discussing our sex life. He started the conversation with "When can we have sex?" to which I replied "LOL Seriously?" Then he began with "Yea I used to have a lot of sex. It's my fault too but I need to get fucked hard, often, in different ways. We need to spice it up. I think it's very important." Well Stevenson, I'm not into necrophilia. I just replied "We need to talk" because... well that will come in the next bracket.

Congratulations Ronnie, you won the most sensitive category!

The most hesitated question when making inquiries on a break-up usually concerns how it ended. I've always hated the "Oh my God!" that generally precedes "What happened?"

I'd first like to apologize to Ronnie for not writing him a sappy, fake break-up post but that was because he actually opened up to me and we weren't acquaintances for the duration of our relationship. I broke up with him via phone call and he was heartbroken. It was within a week after the great Valentine's Day that we had. He lied to me, so I was gone.

Stevenson got an artificial break-up post since he didn't have the ladyballs to do it himself (emotions: fake; story: true). He just pushed me away until he wasn't worth the bad sex and deception anymore. I broke-up with him via text. My personal favorite part of this was his reply. All he said was "What?" And I was just like, bitch you're weighing me down, but I'm pretty sure I explained all that in my last post.

I should really win this category since I wrote both break-up stories. Stevenson wins this one because breaking up with him was literally one of the most fun things that I ever did in my whole entire life.

Everyone's a winner in this game! Especially me, since I'm getting laid, and I'm still single!

It's Over

It was the middle of August when Stevenson went to Washington DC. to do an internship with PETA, one of his favorite organizations. Being a radical liberal and vegan, it is no surprise that he jumped at the opportunity. Good for him though! I would have done the same thing had I been in his shoes.

He had asked me if I minded, and of course I said no. I mean, how many chances like this do people get? I knew it would be the last week that we had together before summer ended to spend together and I was pretty sure that he did too. I thought he would have mentioned that, but he didn't. Maybe in the excitement, it slipped his mind.

The week before he left, we didn't speak much. It was strange, but I didn't think much of it since he had been scheduled a lot at work and he was prepping for a long bus ride. Through the following week, while he was in DC, we didn't speak much. I was brought to the edge of insanity wondering how he was, what he was doing, and if he was thinking of me.

I did my best to not be the obnoxious boyfriend who nags, but I just had to know what was going on. It wasn't until he was on the way home (which was delayed due to Hurricane Irene) that he finally gave in to me and told me what was going on. I was informed that he needed "a better physical relationship before we could progress an emotional relationship". I had always thought that it was the other way around, but I was wrong. I felt like every song and movie that I ever related to had been a lie.

After this discussion I went to see one of my good friends, and co-worker, Lindsay. We went to Outrage and what a trip it was. She convinced me to break-up with Stevenson via BBM. So I did, with ulterior motives. I had planned to text him an hour or so after (I knew he would be going out, therefore I knew he would be under the influence of something) proclaiming that the way he felt when he read my text was how I felt the past two weeks. I was thinking this would change the way he looked at our relationship or at least make some progress, but I was wrong.

Ultimately this did change how we were when we were together. Although he did get very upset with me when I suggested we be friends, I knew we weren't going to get over this 'hump' of sorts. That was fine with me, and I didn't tell anyone, really, so I was able to say it was a mutual agreement since I didn't think Stevenson would appreciate me pridefully discussing how I broke up with him.

Honestly, I didn't think it would make me feel this way. I didn't think that I'd feel like this after only being together for just shy of four months, but I do. I'll never truly know his reason for suddenly becoming so distant either.

There are other things that I'd like to mention but I'm too embarrassed and insecure to talk about them publicly (or privately). Here I am, left feeling inadequate and never wanting to date again.

I loved Stevenson's company. Hell, I still love it! He's a good time. It's undeniable. I still say this despite how little I really got to know him. He had great friends who had similar, if not identical, interests. I'm saying goodbye to them also, since I don't really have another option. I'd like to stay in contact with them but that's not fair to Stevenson and most certainly won't make me move on any faster.

So here's to being single forever (yes, I was being serious). I will also continue to remain anonymous in the local gay community.

I wouldn't say that Stevenson is dead like she who must not be named, but I don't think I can consider him alive.

Three Things

The way I see it, there are three things that determine most of the satisfaction in one's life. Those three things would include occupation, quality of life, and relationships.

Currently I am still working at the GAP Outlet, and looking for a new job with more hours and more recognition and fairness. On August 8th, I had a job interview at Express in a larger mall. It was a group interview. I interviewed with 4 other girls, who were significantly under-qualified in comparison to me.

It wasn't until yesterday that they called me back to give me the good news that they wanted to hire me. I knew they would call, but there are other things going on that are keeping me stuck at the GAP. Thank goodness they they put me on a waiting list. The bad part, I lose the chance if I wait more than a month.

This is where we move onto quality of life. As you previously saw, I am dissatisfied with my job. My job is having a major impact on my quality of life. My hours are inconsistent therefore I never know how much money I will have coming in and what I will have extra or if I will even have what I need to pay my bills.

My car is falling apart on top of all of this, and I don't have any money to replace it at the time. I'm trying to get financed for a replacement but so far, no luck. I need to get a new job to get more money but I can't get a new job because there will be NO way of getting financed if I've only had a job for less than a year.

So at this point in my story I have a job that I hate and a chance to get a new job that I can't take but wish I could because it would improve my quality of life that is so low because of the dissatisfying job that I have. Keeping up? Hope so.

Relationships would be the last piece that determines the satisfaction in one's life. Some people might even argue that it can make everything better even when everything else if fucked up. I think I might believe that if it happened to me... but it hasn't.

Aneta is pissing me off in every direction, she's had this attitude since I turned 18 like, "Do it on your own." On the other hand Madame Dupont is such a lazy bitch that I can't bare to be home when she is. And just to throw it out there, they need to get it on already. Damn dikes.

Then we have Charles and his lover who now live together and bicker incessantly. They're driving me up a wall. They both come to me and talk shit about one another. They should just break up or stop being such catty queens. I can't handle the stress of lying to each of them when they ask if the other says the same things.

Stevenson is last. Stevenson is the reason that I haven't written lately. I feel as if he doesn't approve of this blog or anything that I have to say in it. I know the first time that I had mentioned him, it wasn't really in good context but who's fault is that? Not mine.

I haven't seen him in about two weeks which is a little frustrating but it's almost done and has passed quicker that I had expected. We've hardly spoken over these two weeks, and I don't really know why? OH WAIT! I DO! Because he ignores me. He said we'd skype, but that never happened even when I suggested it. He hasn't called me once, he's just bbm'd me infrequently. I can't even get a well written sentence (but his Facebook and Twitter can).

I thought that getting mad might make him see that he's fucking up... I was wrong. He apologized and the next day, things were the way I hoped they wouldn't be. Then I tried the opposite approach. I then told him not to text me until he came home, then after not speaking most of the day, I apologized to him letting him think he had me around his finger. That didn't work either.

Now here I sit writing this blog, while he thinks I'm sleeping because I'd rather just know why he's not talking to me. I found out a few other things that I would have liked to know sooner and he didn't seem to care about how I felt about that.

One might call my life chaotic, but this shit is just a straight up disaster. Everything is falling apart faster than I can build it back up. I'm putting so much effort forward and gritting my teeth, but I can't bare to be under this much pressure anymore.

I should really give up trying to satisfy all three pieces at the same time, but it would just be torture to myself if I let one keep getting worse in order to salvage another.

I'm just a real ass bitch in a fake ass world.

Amy Winehouse

Today, Amy Winehouse was found dead in her London home.

While her death is sad and disappointing to most, others find it to be no surprise. Although Police said that the cause of death is 'undetermined' it is assumed by most that she had overdosed.

The people who are making assumptions (whether they be crude, serious or otherwise) on her cause of death are being inappropriate not to mention disrespectful. Death isn't something to joke about even if it is extremely ironic.

On the other end of the spectrum we have the super saddened 'fans'. Many, many people from nobodies, all the way up to the A-Listers are commenting on her death as 'the loss of one of the best artists of our time'. I think every artist is a great artist in their own way. Just because she was 27 and semi-mainstream doesn't mean that it's a larger loss than an artist who never had the chance to record.

I did a little investigation of my own to find out exactly how many of the people who had posted about their great loss actually thought of her as one of their favorite artists before she deceased. I found about 25 posts on Facebook about her death (that weren't making a mockery of it). Of those 25 people who posted, only one of them had Amy Winehouse mentioned in their 'Info' page. Funny thing is, he had been to rehab before and bragged about it. I personally think he had her in there so people would associate him with her.

Of those 25 people, about 10 of them liked her page TODAY. They didn't think about her at all as their favorite musician until her death.

It's just perplexing to me how you can claim so much love for something once it's gone. In a few short weeks, her death will be something of the past and we won't think about it until this day comes next year.

I posted my favorite Amy Winehouse song, Back To Black on Facebook to celebrate her life. I don't want to mourn, nor do I feel obligated to because I never knew her personally. She was a great musician and visionary, and I respect that.

Dissatisfaction

Today I feel nearly completely dissatisfied.

I've actually felt this way for a little while.

For a period of time I mistook this for sadness. Now, it's not like I felt depressed (I'm not emo) but there was something missing. It's not that there's something missing though either. It's that there isn't enough to go around to fill the void. The void being my level of satisfaction.

When I looked in the mirror this morning I just sighed and stared. I moisturized my face after getting out of the shower and I smiled. I smiled at the slight improvement that took only seconds. Then I saw it, the recurring flaw. Teeth.

High School is now over and I've finally escaped the torment of my peers. My teeth, they torment everything in my life. I can't smile without being conscious of their astounding grotesqueness.

As I start every day, I have this reminder. So of course I'm thinking of ways to escape this and I can't. In order to do anything, I have to get ready.

What am I getting ready for? Ding! Ding! Ding! More dissatisfaction. I sit in the car for my 20-30 minute ride to the mall where I get to make a nickel for a dime's worth of work. I feel like I could be better elsewhere, not to mention, other people who are less deserving have the jobs and wages that I deserve. It's just so frustrating that I can't get something (that would be beneficial to both sides) without getting upset.

I spoke with Stacy last week and she said that she would talk to Becky and Veronica about how they've been dicking me around and using me. Well, that happened. They didn't even apologize for doing what they did, and Veronica was still really, really bitchy to me. They think they're all hot shit, counting money, and writing e-mails but they can't do what we (associates) do. They can't merchandise and fill out DERs, while ringing and folding down. They're just glorified couch potatoes.

I've been looking for a new job, but it has proven difficult.

My third level of dissatisfaction roots from money. Fucking money. FUCK money. I never have enough, it's inconsistent, and is the only way to get or do anything. I used to not mind looking rich but always being extremely broke, thinking "things will get better". Delusional... right? I'd rather look poor and feel rich than this. I can't enjoy a damn thing without it either.

On my way to school the other day, someone won a brand-new car. I didn't smile. I was jealous. I hated her. Good things don't come to those who wait OR those who go after them. Everything's just luck of the draw and you just have to hope that you won't end up dissatisfied.

The Rosary

As I put together my outfit this morning, Porcelain Black's song, This Is What Rock and Roll Looks Like was playing. I felt the need to embrace some of my past fashions. I wore all black with a studded belt. I had on a lot of jewelery and eye liner. To top off the look, I wore rosary beads that I bought when I went to Italy last year.

I went out the door like any other day. It really wasn't any different. I got a lot of compliments on how I looked, but that usually happens every day.

A friend of mine commented on the rosary beads which I wore around my neck. I had mentioned them because for some reason I held the beads in my hand often. I had thought about how it may be offensive and brought that up. She said that it was ignorant of me to wear rosary beads like a necklace as a fashion statement.

When I bought them, I thought of Madonna and how killer she looked when she wore them. It was a big deal when she wore them, but that was a million years ago. I didn't expect to get any reaction.

With this thought I was concerned. Was I being rude my wearing the beads?

I kept them on because I felt like there was no real reason to take them off. Through the rest of the day I was much more aware of their presence. While holding them in my French class I thought about what they represented. I believe in God, and that all of the stories in the Bible teach good morals. While I may question Jesus' existence, I don't think that his character (fictional or non-fictional) was poor in any way.

I remember when Mary was sick in the hospital and was dying. She had asked me to say the rosary every time I saw her. I was young at the time, and I did not want her to die. I would say the whole entire rosary every night for her. My faith was strong.

Although, I don't blame myself for her death, as my faith grew weaker when I got older, so did her health. When she passed, my faith was restored. All of that time I spent where I didn't acknowledge my faith was careless. I was living without purpose. I believe that death and birth come in pairs. With the death of her life came the birth of my stronger faith.

Wearing a rosary wasn't just a fashion statement. Faith isn't apparent at first glance. In wearing a rosary, I wore my faith close to my heart.

It's a shame, but I'm not wearing those rosary beads any time soon.

Anger

I've always known that I'm a generally aggressive person. I acknowledge the fact that I displace and suppress a lot of my anger, hate, and rage, in order to have better social interactions.

Today in Art Class, my teacher questioned me, "Why do you cuss so much?"

I was quick to excuse my crude vocabulary with, "If people didn't piss me off so much, I wouldn't have a reason to curse." I tend to think that I'm easily agitated. Now I'm sitting here thinking that maybe people are just stupid. Isn't that so disgustingly vain of me?

For the rest of the day after being questioned, I thought about who I'm usually mean towards and who I share my true sources of hate with. I'm mean to everyone, really. I'm mean to some of my coworkers, my friends at school, and the people I live with. The people who I'm NOT mean to though--those seem to be the far-and-few-between who don't piss me off.

If for some reason, there is a person who pisses me off and for one reason, or another and just can't help but piss me the fuck off, I just channel all that rage into something else. When this happens, I notice that I start to hate myself. It comes in many forms. It ranges anywhere from feeling fat or ugly, or even under-measuring my successes.

To branch out on another note--I noticed that although "people" piss me off, it's not their fault. A lot of the time I'm jealous, I want what they have.

So I guess "life's a bitch, and then you die."

It should be, "life's a bitch, and then you live miserable."

I was about to start a sentence with "Now I know that..." and then I realized that I have NO idea what I'm talking about. I sat and thought, "What the hell do I know?"

I just need realize that life isn't fair. I have to get the fuck over it and stop being so damn mean.

Cheating

While the word cheating may indicate many different things, I think it is very obvious that I am not talking about my last Pre-Calculus test.

A few days ago I found myself thinking about how I would feel if I were to be cheated on. I thought to myself that I wouldn't care if I never found out and I didn't get an STD. As you can see, my iron exterior is starting to convince my subconscious that my emotions are composed of iron also.

For a while now, Stevenson has been telling me about an internet friend of his. I guess he lives in the backwoods of some retarded conservative state that won't turn blue any time soon. They've been friends for a very long time, of course. His friend submitted photos to Ford Models out of a recommendation. After multiple trips to New York and whatnot he was informed that out of thousands who submitted, he was one of the very, very few selected. So this kid has to be pretty damn attractive, right?

Stevenson told me that his friend was moving to New York last week. He wanted to visit him before he got famous. He didn't want his friend thinking that he only wanted to become his friend once he got famous--if he gets famous.

He made plans with me for yesterday, Tuesday, and therefore wan't going to go. He also said that he didn't really have the money anyways.

On Saturday night, Stevenson informed me that his friend had found more affordable tickets for him to come to the city. Stevenson made it sound like a day trip, so I didn't really give a fuck. As it set in, I came up with that half-baked notion of how I would feel if I were cheated on.

The next day I found out that it wasn't a day trip. It was an overnight trip. Stevenson was going to go on Monday evening. I figured he was going to be home on Tuesday night. I still wasn't worried because I still had myself convinced that what I didn't know wouldn't hurt me.

This morning I found out that the trip was taking course over three days. He had stayed over for two nights. I felt like there was so much that I wasn't filled in on. I know that Stevenson is a little dense but why wouldn't he tell me how long the trip was. He was vague about the whole thing.

Today at school, I had a lot of quiet time to think to myself and I don't feel convinced that I have security anymore. Now I know that we've only been together since May 7th, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't be peeved. Being in a relationship means that you're exclusive.

I got to thinking about why people cheat. I could only come up with the idea that people get bored of their sexual relationship. I had other ideas but I don't think that I have the right to question the mental sanity of others.

Am I a bad kisser? Am I bad in bed?

I couldn't see how this could be possible because whenever we're alone the only thing he wants to do is fuck and shit. The only time we seem to ever talk is when we're with other people. He's politically retarded and stubborn so he just talks crazy sometimes. It's like when we're having sex is the only time that I feel like he's enjoying my company.

So do I think that the last-minute, shady trip to New York City to see a long-term friend that he's never met, who's becoming a model was a booty call?

Why wouldn't I?!

I'm not going to say anything, or act different. I only have my suspicions.

It's not a judgement on my character. As long as I'm a good, honest person, I can live with myself. I don't have skeletons in my closet.

Different Kind Of Fame

As I sat in the assembly I heard name after name being called. People with great academic performances and selfless resumes walked before me. I was so glad that someone could fulfill the cookie cutter mold that was created for them. Unfortunately I was too small in their eyes to fill this mold.

I remember a day when I wanted to be that person. I wanted the recognition and the fame of sorts. On the other hand, I wanted something to show for my work that was tangible. Unlike the other people, I was self supported, wealthy for my age, had a killer wardrobe, and a life. I wanted people to see what I put my time into when they didn't even know my name. I didn't want one day of all the glory that I receive during the year.

It may seem foolish, and it occasionally sounds foolish to me too. I gave up academic greatness and the societal future that I could have had for material possessions. I just hope that the route that I chose will come with the same prosperities, if not more.

She announced their accomplishments as each individual walked across the stage. I thought to myself... I have no accomplishments. Then I really thought hard about it and I do have an equal number of accomplishments if not more. Mine are also of equal or greater stature.

I realized that my accomplishments aren't ideal. Yes, people admired and respected them but they weren't about to give me a scholarship for it or a title.

With a puss on my face, I sat in silence as the National Honor Society inductees got what they worked for.

I used to get chills as the qualities were announced. I used to be impressed. This assembly was my fourth. It had gotten old. I had heard the same speeches reiterated year-after-year. I heard the flaws in their speaking and saw the weakness in their eyes.

What does it take to be one of them?

It takes being the student council president that smokes weed. It takes being the horny jock that sends out dick pictures. It takes being the president of the class of 2011 who talks about people behind their back. It takes being the wallflower who has no social life and lives for school and volunteer work. It takes being the student of the month that pops pills in school. It takes being the ex-fat kid who got a girl to hook up with him in exchange for driving her home.

My fame may be based off of some shameful facts accompanied by achievement that shadow them, but it most certainly NOT based off of lies and deception.

I realized that I'm more recognized on a daily basis. I'd rather have my details splashed across page 6 frequently than have my face on the front page for one day.

I've never really been a cover girl but I have been a hot topic these years passed.

I'm Miss. Bad Media Karma, another day, another drama.

Decision

This is the part where I have to make a choice.

There's so much competition in my head.

I just don't know why I can't hear the voice.

I have no idea which way I'm being led.

My life continues to be unclear.

But I still have to budget my time.

My final decision is coming near.

And I just don't know if I'll do fine.

Here's the part where I stand on edge.

I'm looking east and west.

But it's north and south that have me wedged.

Going this way, I'll do my best.

The circumstances have me in quite the bind.

Nothing can restrict me or make me fade.

Something great is what I hope to find.

Time is up; my decision is made.

Mother's Day

While others sit around with their families enjoying a day of celebrating the idea of motherhood, I have no idea what I will find myself doing.

Seeing as how I don't have my mom, or my parents for that matter, I don't really know how to celebrate or if I should celebrate at all. There are days where I think of my parents, specifically my mother and reminisce. There are also days where I go on about my life as if I gave it to myself.

Working retail, I see fathers and their children of all ages going around the mall searching for the perfect gift to give. What am I searching for?

Having Facebook, I see people posting new default photos of them in their mothers and families and whatnot to celebrate. What do I post?

On Twitter, a friend of mine who has three beautiful younger siblings posts a photo of the brand new white iPhone 4 that he bought his mother for Mother's Day. What do I brag about?

And at school, everyone is talking about their weekend plans with their parents and going out to dinner and surprises. What do I discuss?

I'm searching for closure.

I post a new picture of myself.

I brag about Stevenson.

I discuss my phony content.

So on this holiday I will celebrate with the family that I have and pay my respects to all of the mothers out there. Unfortunately I won't feel the thankfulness and fulfillment that everyone else will be enjoying.

So Happy Mother's Day to my mother--who has so clearly forgotten about her second child.

I Do? I Don't!

It's not everyday that we hear a story of how someone was turned down. This may range anywhere from no to a job interview or no to dating someone that you're interested in.

Yesterday, Stevenson asked me to go official with him.

I told him it was too soon--he understood where I was coming from, thankfully.

It was in my room on my bed in the middle of a make-out session. He asked me if I wanted to be official with him. I don't know how dense you could be to not get it, but asking me this would mean that we were already unofficially dating.

With this comfort, I declined his offer. I like things how they are for the time being with Stevenson. Seeing as how he implicated that we treat one another as boyfriends right now I feel the need to wait for the perfect moment to ask him out.

I want a romance for the first time in my life. I don't want to rush since so far in my dating life that has gotten me nowhere. I feel like this really involves feelings and not just obligation. I want to have a good story with Stevenson, not a cliche.

With this I don't came an I do. An I do plan to be your boyfriend soon.

We're going on our second official date, Friday.

Stevenson

Yet again I have learned that someone will become a long-term character in the story that is my life. Stevenson is the latest of love interests and one of the most genuine at that.

It's been well over a year since my last real relationship (Ronnie). It's also been just over a year since I've crushed on someone hard (Sebastien). Now both are coming in the same package and I'm happy again.

I feel like myself again, now that someone has come along and shared part of my life with me. Although I may have met him only a short week or so ago, I'm smitten.

I still didn't feel like myself the first night that I drove out to Troy to see him. I didn't have that sparkle or the attitude, and my ego was dwindled nearly down to nothing. As I'm sure I have made clear, the glamour in my life is what keeps me going. My life had gone into a downward spiral of confusion. I didn't know which route to take and if I could go back to being Caesar Smithe.

Truth be told--I blame Stevenson. He gave me a reason to smile and look forward to everything whether it be work, school, or working on making him my boyfriend. We're the same type of person and I like that there is little to no competition between us.

I think he can see that I want to do this right. Stevenson knows that I've told people about us and what we've done but only he knows the happiness he given me by that.

I still feel like that insecure person that I was over the past four months. Some of the sadness and depression comes back for short waves and then I am reminded about how much I have going for me. Then I smile.

The first day that Stevenson, and I hung out my mouth began to hurt. Now don't get all perverted, because he doesn't kiss THAT aggressively. The gum on the right side of my mouth was swollen. I had checked it and the two teeth my orthodontist couldn't fix for the longest time finally closed up.

I was so happy that the next visit would be my last appointment before my braces would finally be removed. The two teeth look exactly how he said they would. They're far beyond perfect now.

Let's see how the next two weeks turn out because if I remember correctly, being someone other than Caesar Smithe was supposed to continue until Mother's Day. I still have another shopping trip that I need to get done and some more work on myself. I have yet to learn what I had intended to teach myself since I've gone back to my ways of complimenting myself in the mirror.

One of the biggest things that I needed to learn was when to set my arrogance aside. I have yet to master this with the people who have been in my life since before I decided to teach myself this lesson but I have with the new people who have come along.

Stevenson,

Right now, you drive me crazy.

Will you hold it against me?

Cyclical

This was the last week that she and I had to spend together before nothing would be keeping us together for most of the following week. She was beautiful, divine in every way. She reminded me of a fast-forwarded clip of a morning glory at the crack of dawn. She had an air about her that was irresistibly appealing.

When I would breathe around her the wind would go right through me. She radiated like the Sun and we were all the plants that fed off of her. Until this week, I had always felt like the Earth in this scenario. I fed the plants the nutrients and gave then the support they needed in order for the Sun to create so many things that depended off of her.

But what does the Earth matter anyways? It's bigger than all of us and it's right beneath our feet. The Sun on the other hand, is godly. It's astronomically far away and is completely untouchable.

Now who is to blame for the places of which the sun cannot penetrate? These places have little to no life without the sun. Alas, the world had revolved around her. This was exactly what the Earth and the Sun had intended.

The rain forest is the only place that is home to long-term effects of the sun while the poles are the only two places that never have the opportunity to continuously be in the Sun's innermost circle. At times, the whole world loved the Sun. The transition where one pole experienced long periods of dusk and the other experienced long periods of dawn, was when the Earth's accomplishments were most evident.

,

These moments are what the Sun feeds off of. Don't let this fool you though, the reaction of the rain forest to her is what she considers to be one of her greatest accomplishments.

Only one thing had ever distracted the Earth From the Sun. Although it seems to only tease the Earth with it's gravitational pull, the Moon is closer to the Earth and is much more accessible.

Every so often the Moon completely outshines the Sun. The Moon has a beauty that is beautiful and respectable but not so much overbearing and powerful.

During an eclipse the Moon takes the stage and reminds the Earth of how she consistently and fairly treats the Earth and how the Sun favors bits and pieces of the Earth. Moons come and go, and so do Suns.

After an eclipse, the Sun seems less powerful and becomes so typical and the Moon gains the extraordinary compliments that the Sun feels entitled to.

In time, a new Sun will take the stage. It still does all of the same things that the original Sun did. A new Moon will come and act exactly like the previous one did. The Earth, unlike the Moon and the Sun, remains the same.

The Moon revolves around the Earth, keeping him in check and watching his every move. The Earth revolves around the Sun, but if it weren't for the Earth then the Sun would have nothing to give her the sense of entitlement that she so craves.

Health and Beauty

I went into the waiting room and only waited for around 5 minutes until my name was called. I wend down a corridor and to the right where I was weighed. The lady, who was kind despite her lack of a personality, also took my height, blood pressure, pulse and also tested my eye sight. I was then put into my own room down another hall and to the right.

She asked a few simple questions and told me to get into the hospital gown and the doctor would be in within a few minutes. I had forms with me for college which she set down for Doctor Verre to fill out when he arrived. I hadn't seen him in forever. He was Korean and pretty amusing. He seemed pretty typical, and somewhat wealthy.

He came in and I was all set and ready to undergo routine maintenance, like a car or something.

First he asked if anything had happened as far as in my family history. Of course not. I mean, not that I would be aware of. He went over question after question. I responded truthfully on my part, and ideally on his.

He then used what seemed to be a remote control with a frosting tip on it with a light inside to check my ears.

I had cleaned my ears extra throughly to minimize the risk of embarrassment. I know Doctor's Offices are 'judgement free' but let's not lie to ourselves. I know that it's just unspoken judgement. On that note I also did all of the usual maintenance. Shaved my legs, chest, stomach and under arms. I'm courteous, and not to mention proud of my body. I'm sure he looks at fat, smelly, hairy eye-sores all day. And when have I ever been like anyone else anyway?

I then sat up straight so he could listen to my breathing. A lot of things have changed since my last visit. One of them being that I became a smoker. I thought for sure he would know. I was wrong. He then said that my breathing was great and everything was fine. I had to tell him myself toward then end of the appointment when he had asked if there was anything that we didn't 'go over.'

I then was asked to remove the hospital gown, and did. My body looked divine, I can't even attempt to be modest because if I did I wouldn't be giving myself enough credit.

One time, one of my co-workers, Mr. Piggy himself, did have the nerve to call me a pot-belly behind my back. I would go to work in my underwear (because I'm sure people would only be drooling) to prove him wrong, but I'd rather not get fired (or arrested for indecent exposure).

I then laid down for that part of the exam that was most inspection like. Doctor Verre had felt along my abdomen and lower stomach pressing while he had his other hand on my back, also pressing. He did something similar with a hammer on my legs. This was the part of a physical that I never understood. What was he checking for? And he wasn't using enough of his hand for it to have been considered sexual harassment.

Then, what people know what the most shameful or un-manly aspect of the physical was next. Like I said, I have a lot of pride in my body. This should explain why I wasn't nervous or scared of judgement here. Nudge-nudge.

While Dr. Verre may have been Asian, he certainly didn't wear FLAT-front khakis from GAP. He was more of a STRAIGHT-fit kind of guy. I defy American stereotypes by being thin and he defies Asian stereotypes with his endowment (which I only know by careful observation because I have NEVER seen his dick; he is my Doctor).

I am currently in the best physical shape of my life. I've lost weight and I was informed that my BMI signifies that I am riding the border between a healthy weight and being underweight.

This new outlook seems to be helping my current mental issues. So here's to a fresh beginning for Spring!

Rebirth

There was a day when I loved who I was. I loved who I was becoming. I love every thought I had. I was so preoccupied and naive.

My friends and I were people of a very specific genre. As their personalities sharpened to fit an increasingly more specific genre mine did not. I woke up and I smelled the roses.

They were beautiful and nothing like anything that I'd ever experienced.

Usually when people test themselves they never follow through. Not I. I was going to carry thought. On January 7th (which was the day, last year that Ronnie and I started dating), I bought 7 tee shirts. I also shaved my head. I put all of my beautiful clothes in storage, and took my old Adidas sneakers out of storage. I was going back to a time when life was simple.

I have dressed up a small handful of times since then. I don't wear makeup, and I only shave once or twice a week. I've been building up a COMPLETELY brand new wardrobe. I needed to do this so that my new, revamped, not-so-fake personality would be fitting for an equally refreshing wardrobe.

I know it doesn't make much sense how this could fix my rude demeanor.

Fashion and beauty were everything that I relied on. So far in life, they had gotten me everywhere. They got me my job. They got me attention. They got me noticed. Now is a time in life where no one is rating your picture, and they don't even know what shoes you're wearing, let alone care.

I'm growing up. I'm an adult now. I may have appeared to have not changed, and my humor is still the same; I have changed. Inside I know what is real. I know what is fake. I know when to be casual and when to be reserved.

I'm a people person. Whether I chose this path, or a more lucid one, I'd still be adored. I'd rather be adored for the right reasons though. Don't get me wrong though--I love Lindsay Lohan.

I've been fixing problems in my life. I've been fixing every person I've wanted to fix things with. I've been demolishing the people who wouldn't support this side of me.

I want to be out there and in the open. Really though, I don't want that. I'm taking a new approach with people. I'm so good at reading people and reading between the lines that this new way of life has been a great transition from what was.

I'm going to be myself for what it's worth,

and it's worth the world to me.

The Bathhouse

The girls from my lunch table and I were breaking CDs into small pieces in order to make something magnificent. At first we thought we were breaking up mirrors. For what we were working on, the only thing that would work would be mirror shards. In some time one of the girls pointed this out to me.

We were infuriated that all the time we spent on the platform was wasted on something completely inadequate. The girls disappeared into thin air, as they always seem to do. We're never together very long so it was probably a good time for them to vanish.

After this moment I found myself in the bathhouse, I was naked and just freshly bathed. I passed another person entering into the showers as I exited. It was Aaren.

As I was half-way through the main area that preceded the showers I had an overwhelming feeling that I shouldn't be naked. This wasn't until after I had passed Reg who was on his way into the showers, butt naked. He stood there in all of his glory, perfectly toned. We exchanged words for a minute in a flirtatious way yet it wasn't uncomfortable even though we were both naked.

As I passed him my clothes came on me, naturally. The exit had no door, and exited in what seemed to be a school hallway or maybe a corridor to the community center. I saw myself walking out and exiting to the left into the empty corridor.

I ran into Monsieur Colt. He had been previously involved in other chapters of my life, but had yet to specifically victimize me.

I have never seen his face nor have I ever seen the aftermath of his visits. He stabbed me in the lower stomach. He knew what he was doing since the whole world seemed to stay silent. He dragged me across the floor with my head under his arm and his hand over my mouth. He promptly came up behind Reg and dug the dagger into his lower stomach.

The man that Reg is, was not the Reg that I saw here. He was weak and helpless. Monsieur Colt didn't want to kill his victims. I think he wanted to keep them, but that is unknown to me. He had dropped me down, lying on the floor disabled next to Reg.

He headed into the showers where Aaren would make his first encounter with him. I couldn't do anything to help. I was even too emotionally paralyzed to cry or scream. I only frowned in misery.

The ending may have been reluctant. Perhaps Aaren escaped and we were all rescued. Or maybe I'm just naive.

William

I met William a few months ago. For a while I questioned if he was worth giving a name since I never had the desire to write about him. But now I am writing so that his name wasn't one wasted.

He and I weren't really friends for very long. It was apparent from the beginning that we both saw more in one another than that.

In the beginning we couldn't get enough of one another. Well, I couldn't get enough of him. After a period of time, William realized that I was seriously interested in him. After this I then became the needy one. Now it's not that I was needy in a bad way, but I was needy in the way that made him feel in control.

For the longest period of time he refused to talk on the phone. He was trying to build curiosity. He was building up my excitement. And for what? To let me down.

Every morning for the past few months I would text him before I went to school, and work. I would always clue him in on what I was up to. He did that less and less. It turned into me texting him all the time. I was always desperate to try and keep his interest in any kind of conversation.

Some time passed still and I went silent. Things had only gotten worse.

At one point I asked him why he talked to other boys. He seemed confused. I questioned why he called other boys baby online and flirted with them out in the open. He then denied it. He began to question my fidelity which was perplexing to me. He would ask why people like Alejandro are posting on my wall. He knew full well that I thought Alejandro was obnoxious, along with all the others he accused me of being interested in.

Now that we don't talk, he only flirts harder. He only shows more interest. I knew I was an afterthought. I knew no one would ever genuinely put me first.

William said that when I text him first in the morning it made him feel like he was being thought of. I thought to myself, I never get texted first. It pained me to know that I wasn't being thought of. It didn't make him feel thought of, it made him feel powerful.

I confided so much in William. I told him so much, I let him in on things that I felt uncomfortable sharing. He wouldn't even show me his new haircut. That's how little he trusted me.

When these many feelings collided, it started a series of arguments. The only way I could get his attention was to be rude and confuse him with my expansive vocabulary to which his was inferior. From there I would take my time carefully explaining his contradictions, and how I felt. He never saw my point. He never once said he understood nor did he admit to being wrong.

Every argument ended with: "I don't wanna do this any more."

I didn't know how he felt then, and I don't know how he feels now. He's a sealed envelop that's lost in the mail. Some letters take some time to come around, and others never do.

Familiar

I was walking down a busy road in a populous city. There was the back to what seemed to be a factory to my left, with a large fire escape with several turns. Aneta and a few other familiar people were walking to my right and behind me.

A loud and disconcerting noise plagued the air. I could feel it getting dark. I could feel the world caving in. I looked to the sky for an answer; that was when I saw it approaching. I ran to the fire escape as quickly as I could. Climbing several steps at a time, I headed for my escape. Familiar and unfamiliar faces followed as the shadows quickly swept in. I hurtled over a locked gate leaving everything I knew, and everything I had yet to know behind.

The powerful wave touched down and cleaned the streets. I couldn't hear it, nor could I feel it. When the iron door shut and I was considered safe I began to walk around inside the dark, seemingly empty building.

I came across machinery for stuffed animal assembly. I thought this seemed to be random since the building advertised that a new aquarium would be coming soon. Despite the irony, there were no signs of an aquarium. Inside it was dry, and safe.

I had been removed from the building without my knowledge. I woke up in a neighborhood that was forested despite it's many homes. I was clothing-less, walking up a steep curved road.

I was comfortable. The air was soothing and the breeze wouldn't be noticeable if it weren't for the trees swaying. I came across an older woman, who came off eccentric yet easy to talk to. Nothing about the way she looked was familiar but the way she felt was very familiar.

She and I walked very slowly to the end of her driveway, which was of moderate length, and back. She did all of the talking. Her words were heard although I cannot recall what any of them were. She spoke with ease and elegance. It were as if she were reciting something she had kept inside of her for eternity.

I was in her home sitting in the couch for a period of time. I was in clothes that were my own, and that she must have found and given me.

She was later standing in the dining room, which was also the kitchen, with me. A tall young woman came in. She was wearing a long cloak-like coat and large, rounded sunglasses. She was looking in the direction of the old woman in a way that felt evil. The old woman looked through her thick spectacles at the woman in a way that indicated she was notorious for her all-around good reputation.

The naive old woman was unable to make the connection to who the woman really was. I found myself eye-to-eye with her as she held a large staff in her left hand that stood as tall as she was. It had a round top, with a sharp, pointed end.

She raised her staff to me, going in for the kill. I gained complete control of the weapon with threatening vengeance. I raised the tool and guided it into the middle of her forehead that was completely exposed by her pulled-back hair. With that I pulled the staff down the middle of her face. She was without reaction through disarming her and experiencing her demise.

The old woman had disappeared. I was alone. Her sunglasses were removed through the ordeal yet she still remained unexposed.

I released all of the demons inside of my soul in one swift swipe yet I could feel them still running through my veins.

Le Sigh

When I woke up this morning my room was colder than expected. On top of this I have been having odd dreams almost every night. Waking up physically and emotionally uncomfortable.

I went upstairs to get a cup of coffee to find that Aneta and Madame Dupont had already woken up. Antea let me know that it was snowing and blah blah blah. She said she shoveled some of the driveway and the back deck. I didn't really care because I knew I would be doing the majority of the driveway alone.

Today was also payday so I had plans to get my money and go shopping. When I went to go start on the driveway I noticed that she hardly shoveled. There was a 5'x8' space that was shoveled and had already accumulated a lot of snow. It wasn't even close to my car, really.

It took me a little over an hour to finish the whole thing. I hauled ass, and it really did take a toll on my body. I didn't complain to her one word. I shoveled it for me, and she didn't need to know that. I knew I was free to leave after completing what she knows is never a very fun task.

I said to her, "It's cool if I go get my check and go shopping right?"

She replied, "King Arthur called and said the roads were really bad, especially by the malls."

I thought, of course it's the worst by every local shopping center. I had replied, "I shoveled the whole driveway for you, because I knew you couldn't do it. I've had all week off from school and this is my only day off to have any fun."

Of course she caved. I'm broke, and I need my money.

My car was all over the road on the way there, and it was kind of fucking awesome.

Anyways, I got to the mall, and to no surprise FedEx had not arrived with the checks. I waited at the mall for 5 hours and although FedEx had delivered packages and such to other stores, none to ours.

My day is ruined, and Aneta didn't feel bad at all. I'm sure she thought to herself that I was getting some kind of karma for traveling in the storm.

I feel like Jennifer from Jennifer's Body when she hasn't eaten in a while. On top of that I feel unpopular, lonely, and poor.

I'm realizing my inner loser.

Paint

My house was on the corner between Delightful Lane, technically the road I lived on, and Prodd Boulevard. Prodd Boulevard was on a steep hill. A few friends of mine lived at the bottom, while I lived on the top. A few of my other friends lived nearby on Delightful Lane.

There was a house that my friends and I would always hang out at. It was my friend Jenkins' house. He was a good friend, or so I thought.

Now, I can't tell you how I met Jenkins but that's only because I can't even recall our first encounter myself.

His house was a two-story apartment. It had a porch with a large stoop, as well as a balcony. It had one door to the left, and in the foyer, you could choose to go upstairs to Jenkins' apartment or you could go in the door to the right into some cat lady's apartment. Once you reached the top of the stairs you could go into his apartment.

Jenkins was the center of our group of friends, although none of us saw him often. He always hung out in the other room, in the back of the apartment. A few of us would talk and hang out like kids do. I don't remember what the conversation consisted of but I do remember that it was never of my primary memory at the apartment.

We would paint at Jenkins'. The walls were white throughout the whole entire apartment. It had mediocre generic furniture, and had a distinct, clean smell.

Of the few times I visited over that long summer, I remember painting. We repainted the whole entire living room white. The walls were bare and untouched so I don't know why we would have needed to paint, but we did. I don't recall the smell of paint, or the feeling of it, I just remember the cleanliness.

I can see myself, so young and stupid. I was on the opposite wall of the apartment toward what would be considered the front of the apartment. I was painting, alone. In my content, I was called on upon, by request, into the bathroom.

The tragedy took place here. My most embarrassing, traumatic memory took place in that bathroom. It had a plain floor and plain walls, just like any other part of the house. I had no idea that such a disgusting and degrading event was occurring, yet I proceeded with Jenkins encouraging and comforting words.

Oh, please believe I said

Baby, there's a shark in the water.

Or at least there was.

Life Lesson #1

Life Lesson #1: Only Be Submissive During Sex

With little common knowledge regarding the topic of gay sex, anyone can figure out that there's a controlling role and a submissive role. In real love affairs, there is always one who enjoys one role better than the other. This is normal, but real love affairs also have an even trade off, if you catch my drift.

Friendships don't have to be like this. You can play either role you like during conversation. Since this physical aspect never comes into play (for those of us who aren't slutty whores and don't have friends with benefits), we see a power struggle for the more masculine role, if you will.

If you're willing to successfully be the aggressor THEN DO IT.

Why get walked all over when you could be known as the wittiest bitch on the block. While some may find you guarded and rude, you know that you're sweet as candy. My advice to you is only treat others this way given the following circumstances:

1. They try to get sassy with you--put them in their place!
2. No one likes them--make a name for yourself and be the first to stand up the the baddest bitch around. Just like Cady Heron did to Regina George in Mean Girls.
3. You don't want to be friends with them anymore--it's easy to get rid of people, drive them away.

You don't have to treat everyone like this. Just do it to those who deserve it. You can open up to people that you've gotten to know and who have seen that there's more to you than just your exterior. I've opened up to a few select people, and I must admit that it's nice to not have EVERYONE know "who you really are" inside.

I know that I will never shed my icy skin.

Work

I arrived at GAP Outlet around 1:50PM. I was 10 minutes early for my shift, which was only 5 hours long.

The day started off well since I wasn't zoning or on register. I was working with most of the people I don't like, until 3 new people that I don't really know at all came in shortly after. A manager that I always have to keep in check was closing, but that's alright since I really do enjoy running the store unofficially.

I was putting away clothes when I took a moment to listen to the music. The following lyrics played:

"I hate my job."

I can't say that I hate my job at all. As a matter of fact, I am IN LOVE with my job. I am a retail whore. I live for this shit on a daily basis. A lot of what I do is so that the store is a success. Most of my coworkers do their job because they get paid. In part, I show up for the check but genuinely I do adore the customers, the hustle and bustle, and the all around knowledge of knowing I made something happen.

Now I would proclaim that I am the best at my place of employment, but that wouldn't be fair to others. I have not been told that I am the best, and several other coworkers of mine have been voted employee of the month.

I am the self-proclaimed best person at GAP Outlet. I am able to do any task well, not to mention quickly. I'm efficient in everything I do. I know the dos and don'ts.

Good guys finish last? I forgot

It looks like I'm going to be waiting a little while for the recognition that I've earned.

At least I'm not holding my breath, waiting.