Archive for the ‘advice’ Category

The curse of non-affection…(a plea for advice)

So it finally happened. I met a great guy. And in the midst of this home-buying jazz, I guess I have been officially dating so combined with work I’m almost never alone. However as of 20 minutes ago it may be quite clear that I am no longer doing that. You see, I’m not a huge cuddler. I mean, I like it and all when I feel like it but I’m not a non-stop, gotta hang on you, hug on you, kiss on you kind of gal…And in a fit of trying to get some zzz’s tonight and just wanting some air, I got up and said I can’t sleep like this. Granted, we haven’t done, well, you know. But it’s only been like TWO WEEKS. What does he expect? I just like to sleep on MY side of the bed and be left alone. But I guess that wasn’t cool. And I’m just playing this game safer than my past hurry-up-and-wait relationships.

But I gotta tell you, I grew up with a wonderful father. He always was and is there for me. He supports my crazy antics, listens and helps when he can. But he’s not affectionate. I wasn’t brought up being called princess. I didn’t get hugged all the time except on occasion from my mother. The household was loving for the most part, just not touchy-feely like other families I guess. It didn’t really bother me. But maybe it’s translated into my not really being touchy-feely. I like holding hands and stuff but I’m not going to be all up in your ass all day. I’m surprised to find a guy who wants, and needs, that. So he left. And I think we aren’t dating now. Not sure really. He left saying he thinks he needs to “figure stuff out??” And I just got off the phone with him and he said he will call me tomorrow. I don’t feel like I have to pay for the psychos of his past. And I’ve given him so much of the benefit of the doubt.

Just because I needed my side of the bed? Men. Help me out here.

Did the devil spike my cookie?

fortune-cookie-jpg.jpg

While scrummaging around in my closet yesterday getting ready for the company Christmas party, I found an old fortune from who knows how long ago. It reads:

Be mischievous and you will not be lonesome…

Is it wrong that I took this to mean when it comes to men? I think I’ve been mischievous before and I appear to still be single. Let me check…

Yep. Single.

Anyway as I’ve said before the holidays are not the times many people are keeping up with blogging so I don’t know if anyone is even reading this, but I just had to write about this fortune. Not only is the scripture odd, but it’s not your typical fortune.

Most fortunes, even the really good ones you get from Pei Wei, always say something like being good to get what you want or paying it back or some other kind of funky foretelling. But to be mischievous? That sounds like an evil fortune. Did the devil spike my cookie? I wonder if I did something mischievous when I originally opened that cookie…

Does this mean I need to be all about sex and whatnot? Or does this mean that I’ve just got to kick up the sexy? I don’t know that I need to take cues from a fortune, of course. Especially one found on my floor that was possibly from two years ago that probably fell out of my jewelry box. But the coincidence that I found it just before that party is a strange one.

And I don’t know if I was fueled by it or not but I was up to a bit of mischief last night. The fortune was right. But I am pretty sure I was not alone with a potential suitor. (If that is even what “not being lonesome” meant in this particular case of odd fortune.) More like a fairly amusing night of my laughing too loud, sneaking an ill-gotten tequila shot with a coworker by the pool, talking inappropriately at a late dinner with other coworker friends and their boyfriends, and then a drive home — alone.

I have saved that fortune though. For a later date.

Uh oh. I’m shaping young minds!

Yesterday was very serial. So much so that I forwent writing about the city council here or Ellen’s stupid crying about a dog (topics I planned to write about today.) I woke up this morning still thinking about it so I decided to write.

I was asked to speak to a high school in the community I cover. I always get nervous when I’m asked to do these things. Because today’s teens are definitely not yesterday’s teens — they know so much more and don’t tolerate the same things we used to. I also get a little nervous because being that I’m still fumbling along in this industry, even though in a much better role now, so I just can’t help wondering how in the world am I supposed to shape young minds about journalism when I’m still trucking along myself. I’m not a shy person as I’m sure you have guessed but knowing these two things when I’m in front of a classroom gives me the shakes.

Also they had to take notes. So the moment I started talking — I stopped. Then laughed that they had to take notes. Good start so far. Everyone laughed right along. I told of my triumphs and many tribulations — as I believe the teacher had wanted me to. I even revealed that I was a cocktail waitress for a time while freelancing. I gave them the goods. And man the questions they asked! Even the teacher. I tap-danced through some of them because they were along the lines of “what will happen to journalism’s integrity.” Hum…I wanted to have our official bigwig next to me for some of those questions, but I managed and heads nodded and notes were written. As I gave many of my answers I kept thinking, “Is that me saying this?” because they weren’t exactly bad or ridiculously misguided. I think I did alright and a lot of the girls said they liked my outfit, which was the most important thing for me to get right before walking in the room. You know how teen girls can be about fashion!

It just didn’t seem that long ago that I was in their place, sitting there listening to a guest speaker. Very serial and it struck a cord in my heart because I envied them so much. Just to be in that school desk, knowing what I know now would be a gift. I even told them so. I warned them of everything in this industry and the plus of the whole “high” of it. I warned them to take all the classes I didn’t — video editing, page building. I pushed them on internships and the importance of knowing what you have a passion for over the money it can bring. And they seemed entertained and hopefully left with their heads no longer in clouds about how quickly they will be in a significant role in their future careers.

Once upon a very long time ago, I wanted to be a teacher. But as things pushed along (a broken engagement and some hard-knock lessons learned) I wandered down to the basement of my college and filled out the application to be a reporter for the school paper. Addicted ever since except the small moments in which I’m in a classroom. This will sound very sappy so I warn you, but somehow being in that room with bright, eager faces ready to learn, I wonder what I may have missed not being teacher and what kind of one I would have been.

You probably think you are being cute…

But whoever has so much fucking time to sit and see what words to put together to reach my blog and then wait to see if I get pissed is a pathetic waste of life and space on this planet. I don’t have a problem calling people out when they are acting like sheer morons. Sometimes I even reward those morons and find a way to publicly humiliate them in return for giving everyone the pleasure of displaying their stupidity right there on the sleeve.

A few references to something gross or ridiculous to get to my blog, I laugh at and move on. I have even gotten over the fact that someone Googles about 15 TIMES DAILY stuff about interracial dating, black women and white men, and if black women are approachable to get to this shit everyday. That I can deal with by shaking my head. But when someone puts NIGGER DAY STATE FAIR TEXAS together to see if my blog will pop up, I will have to say you can suck it, then eat it, choke on it and then gag to death.  YOU, whoever you are, have way too much time on your hands and needs either a job, a life or a hobby. Contact me because I’m sure I can find something for you to do.

Thanks for letting me rant because sometimes this bitch just needs to grab by the balls.

Smooches,

Arm

Suicide Note: Humor escaped me

I got tagged for an interesting meme.

Oddly I really wanted my suicide to sound witty but all I could muster was kind of a an empowered downer. And ironically being naturally long-winded, my death tale is short and bitter.

Hope it’s inspirational! Thanks Bagel.

Hope is for suckers…

My slow descent into hell wasn’t a silent one.
I know I was kicking and screaming as I went down.
I ranted.
I satisfied and entertained narcissistic behavior.
All the while I fell into the void of disbelief as I looked at the pathetic and dead world around me.
Not always the best daughter. Not always the best friend.
And my mediocre shell, though seemingly full of every bit of confidence I emitted, still wrestled with pushing the over-achievement I craved — was never patient for — and it all never being enough.
Is it ever enough?
And as you read this, whoever you may be, know that I hardly brushed the surface of all the answers I sought while schlepping this earth.

Death by tainted tuna