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.