Falling Without Recovery

Everyone and their mom is obsessed with falling in Love. The movies and TV shows and musical arrangements that fill the airwaves during daily drives to and from work are all full of Love stories that will either leave you curled up under your covers yearning to be touched in the best way or wanting to regurgitate the cold sweet and sour chicken you ate for lunch. The whole Love thing has become such an important force in the lives of pretty much everyone that it's even become like a big deal to tell someone that you love them in a way that's like "Yeah, I loved you before, but now I think I might want to only have sex with just you for the rest of my life." Funny how that happens, right? 

You could have asked high school Angela if she'd ever been in Love, and I can almost guarantee that she would have said yes in a heartbeat. I was stupid, though. I thought I was in Love with every guy who showed any kind of awareness of my existence or any guy who had moves on the astroturf field and do some kind of hair flip. But, let's face it, kids, that's just lust. And lust is Love's evil twin who only wants to give you herpes and a broken heart. 

I've grown up since then, and I'm not going to lie or do a fairy dance around the mushroom to avoid disclosing that I currently find myself caught between the sticky fingers of Love's iron fist. 

But I'm going to just say what no one else will say. Being in Love is shit. It's horrible. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. 

Some mornings you open your eyes and life is rainbows and puppies and fuzzy kittens sleeping on cotton candy clouds. Suddenly you feel like nothing could possibly go wrong, and you're so happy and just want to go tell it on the mountain so everyone knows about how you have all these feelings for this one insignificantly significant individual. You finally understand the hype about Love. Well, you think you understand. After all, you're pretty much walking around in the same puff of smoke that follows you around after you leave a really good concert or have just had a totally real conversation with Josh Groban. 

Other days, you're lucky if you can get up out of bed. Your chest hurts and you miss this other person more than anything ever. It feels like you're going to actually die. I suppose you could say they're the drug 12 steps wouldn't be enough to kick, and you feel like you're going through the most painful of withdrawals. Every song is suddenly about them, and every movie stars you.  You remember the possibilities of dying of a broken heart and you're nearly positive that that's how you'll die. And, finally, the story of Romeo and Juliet makes complete sense. Maybe those two lovebirds weren't as hormonally irrational as you once thought. 

Then there are days when you absolutely hate everything about this person. You sit there and think to yourself, "Why this person? Why now? Why couldn't I be feeling all this for the cute guy who works at Subway?" You hate the way they laugh, the way they drive too fast, the way they only want you when they drink, the way they look when they think you're not watching, the way they do just about everything. It all sucks for being so damn cute and appealing like a 6-pack of bitch beer on a Friday night. You wish they'd just leave so you could just move the frig on. Like, please get out of my life now. I can't take this. You're killing me slowly. 

But there are still those days when you feel like you're in one of those corny Nicholas Sparks novels, and you're totally invincible to the rest of the world through the power of Love. You love the fact that they're around. You love every little moment you have with them, and you realize how beautiful life is while they're with you. You see them from across the room, and your heart stops and you can't imagine having a more beautiful view. They touch you, and everything feels perfect. They hold you, and you feel the safest you've ever felt. They kiss you, and you wonder if you'll ever find anything that feels more right. And that's not even explaining the feeling at it's best. That's just skidding across the surface. 

The thing about Love, though, is that despite all the aching chests and awkward first kisses and the feeling of "how will I ever move on from this moment?", it's still pretty amazing. And that, kids, is the shittiest part. 

A Veritable Smorgasbord

This is so flattering. I know. Where are my boobs?

September means a lot of things, but, here in the great state of Oklahoma, it means the state fair is in our midsts! It's one of the few occasions when Oklahoma's larger individuals crawl from their homes to rent scooters to ride around on while they eat disgusting amounts of food for two weeks (other events may include concerts, festivals, and trips to buffets). Despite my disinterest in rides, games, and spending my money on things that aren't reasonably priced, I really like the fair (mostly because I get to take pictures with various farm animals without being judge too harshly by fellow human beings). This year, I went with my beautiful roommate, Hannah, and we saw some interesting things. Things I probably would never like to see again. Ever. 

Hannah and I both have our fair food quirks. We have designated foods for the state fair and then foods we save for the medieval fair in April. For me, it's all about the corn dogs and funnel cakes. Those two things are things I will basically ONLY eat at the state fair. Get me those things and you pretty much have control over me. I then save my turkey leg and kettle corn needs for the spring. Sure, if I had unlimited funds in my pocket to buy food, I'd probably eat a lot more interesting things like doughnut burgers and "taco in a bag," but until that happens, I'm sticking with the basics.  The real dilemma, though, is that no one wants to eat something questionable and get the shits at the fair. So, I'm literally walking around death valley looking at these vendor booths like:

Me: *sees pizza* Nope

Me: *sees gorgeous dairy-related things* Nope

Me: *sees something greasy and dipped in chocolate* Nope

Me: *sees hot guy eating dairy* Nope 

It's a lot of fun. 

At one point early on in your fair adventures, and I don't really remember what was happening at all when this other thing happened, but we basically almost walked straight into a guy who puked as he was walking towards us. It wasn't even chunky barf. In fact, I think it was just beer. Like, he just spat beer out onto the pavement. But it was in barf form. Needless to say, that was disgusting. 

We also got hit on at the same time by the same guy at a lemonade stand out in the middle of nowhere by the barns for farm animals. He asked if we were sisters and thought I was 17 (that's a new one, I must be aging). If it weren't for his unfortunate dental hygiene, I'm sure he would have hit it off with one of us, but.... ya know. Sorry, buddy.

But I think the highlight of the evening was when we got two helpings of wine slushie samples. We were never completely sure whether there was any alcohol at all in these little samples, but it sure did taste like wine. That's all I got to say about about that. 

Oh, and I dazzled my way into getting 3 dollars off a poster from a couple of Asian guys who thought I was "cute." Actually, the guy asked how much I had (because I didn't have enough to meet their price) and I lied and said I had $7 and he gave it to me. I actually had $9. Oops. 

So, as you can see, I have apparently gotten better looking, older looking, and cheaper since the last time I went to the fair. Yeah, I think that's some good improvements, guys. Hey, bonus is that next time I go to the fair (I mean, if I don't happen to somehow make it to the Tulsa State Fair) I'll be able to reenact that barf scene for myself because legally drinking. Woop!

 

Christmas, Enneagrams, and Someone's Rectum

How sad is it that it isn't even halfway through September and I'm already dreaming about Christmas stuff? I'm really just a firm believer in the discontinuation of this awful Oklahoma heat and the beginning of a beautiful relationship with the crisp, mesmerizing presence of fall. I need sweaters and jeans and boots and for the urge to drink large quantities of hot chocolate to be completely acceptable. Also, I already need a break from this school stuff. Can we say "September sucks!"?

But in all seriousness, I'll probably be complaining about the cold weather come late October and early November because that's pretty much how I run this shit. I complain about one thing and complain about the complete opposite later. I am never quite satisfied with anything unless you're talking about Sour Patch Kids. In that case, I am always satisfied as long as I have them. (BTW, it's been what? 2 weeks without SPK. Dying over here, people!)

So, in my Men and Masculinity class that I'm taking for my minor in Women/Gender Studies, we recently took Enneagram tests to find our Enneagram types. I originally got a 5 as my type, but my instructor told me I am definitely a 6 based on looked at my face. That probably makes a lot of sense because 6's are basically the poster children of anxiety. Both types fit me perfectly, so perhaps I am actually a 5.5 type. And I had Julia take it and hers fit her perfectly. So, I honestly think everyone should take the damn test. It's normally freaky accurate and you may realize some new things about yourself in the process. Just, trust me, okay? And if you're one of those shitty people that I love that I asked to take it, get on it, or I'll be forced to dominate you like a beast.

In other news, once again I am being forced to write a short story. I'm sure at least one of you remembers the last time I attempted writing a short story (BE REMINDED BY CLICKING HERE BITCHES!). And sure enough, I am yet again experiencing great turmoil over this piece of crap. And, mind you, my current assignment is due.... TOMORROW. So, yeah, while I'm writing this, I should actually be working on my story, which will probably turn out to be a mediocre, hard piece of shit that's stuck in someone's rectum. 

However, this time around, I'm using my own interests and making it a bit spicy, so maybe it won't come out soooo terrible. It'll just be terrible. Too bad no one will ever get to read this ever (unless you're my professor, of course). That's how raunchy it is. But I always keep it classy, guys. Don't worry.

(I'm really going to need a little something-something to drink after all this, though)

As for the next assignment, which is due somewhere in October, I should probably start working on
that immediately so I don't end up waiting until the very last minute to pop something out. After all, my grade depends on my ability to pop good shit out. Ain't nobody got time for hard, mediocre pieces of shit!

My only motivation is that I know I'll be able to watch Smallville all weekend after I finish this. Someone, bring me a beer! 

Separation Anxiety

My guess is that at least half of the turmoil I suffer through is caused by separation anxiety. The rest is caused by my own inabilities to be a rational thinker (I'm a very peachy person, guys, trust me). Ironically, those two parts of me kind of like to hold hands quite often. I know what you're thinking: How can someone who is such a little loner be haunted by so many feelings about being apart from another human being? I can't answer that question at all, incidentally. But the thing that most people fail to understand about my case of separation anxiety is that I live in complete fear about 75% of the time.

Being roughly two hours from home (whatever that is, I have multiple homes these days), it's hard. And considering some of the events that have taken place while I have been away from home (and even some things that have occurred while I was home), it can be very scary. And the resulting problem for me is that I am constantly thinking, "Shit, what if that happens again!" or "What if something happens to me and no one is there?"

And I understand that these life events, the things that happened before and the things that will happen in the future are out of my control. There is still that feeling like everything is going to fall to pieces right in the palms of my hands. Sometimes I get the courage to say "Hey, I have these feelings and I wanted you to know because I love you and I'm sorry if it makes you uneasy and I'm sorry if you can't handle it!" But too often it feels like a one-sided conversation.

Me: Please
Me: Please, don't leave me
Me: I need you
Me: I miss you
Me: I love you
Me: Don't break on me 

And that is another thing people don't understand.

Some might consider me clingy or needy or desperate, but that's not the case. I live in fear of being left for dead by the people that take up the most room in my heart. The people that I would jump through hoops for and sacrifice the world for in a blink of an eye if they asked.  It's a living Hell sometimes. 

I don't need for people to understand why I have this anxiety or how I feel when I'm suddenly struck by this immense amount of fear. Most of the time, I don't tell people and it's not something anyone is bound to notice from the outside. And you shouldn't worry about me either. Because you'll see that I'm fine when I'm able to unleash the infinite amounts of love I've been hoarding in my chest since I last saw you. And you'll feel the love. And you'll either give me love back or you won't.

The beauty of separation is that it sometimes makes the heart grow fonder. And the sadness of separation is that sometimes it kills the seeds that you planted long before. But there is always the hope that love will keep it alive.  

Let's keep it alive. 

Thirsty Thursday: Smallville Edition

For the last 5 days or so, I've been furiously watching the first season of the hit TV show Smallville (mind you, there are like 10 seasons, so I probably won't be finished until like Halloween at the rate I'm going). And while I will openly admit that I get hooked on things very easily, this show was really not something I anticipated. It's amazeballs, and I don't know how this happened. Well, I do, but that's really not important.

The thing I do when I watch things is I mentally create drinking games for it. This show did not escape my thirsty wrath. So, I've compiled a list of rules for Smallville season 1 (and I'm sure many of these apply just as well with the other seasons, but I guess I'll find out for sure soon). Here we go:

What you'll need:

• Season 1 of Smallville (please, feel free to illegally stream it like I did if you're too poor to actually go buy it somewhere)
• A shot glass (preferably one that is a little dorktastic, ie. one from a gift shop or Spencer's)
• Your alcoholic beverage of choice

How we play: 

• Take a shot any time Clark wears plaid
• Take a shot any time Clark is way too polite
• Take a shot any time a piece of the meteor rock is seen
• Take a shot any time Lifehouse is played in the background
• Take a shot any time you think anyone got a boner 
• Take a shot when you get a boner over practically naked Lana in "Nicodemus" 
• Take a shot any time you feel like laughing about how Whitney's name is Whitney
• Take a shot any time Lex expresses feelings about how he became bald (i.e.. the day the meteor hit)
• Take a shot any time Mr. Kent turns down money from Lex
• Take a shot any time Lex expresses daddy issues 
• Take a shot every time bugs are involved in some way
• Take a shot any time Pete enters the scene on account for him being the token black character
• Take a shot every time Chloe swoons over Clark 
• Take a shot every time Clark gets friend-zoned by Lana 
• Take 2 shots any time they show bad driving
• Take a shot any time someone dies
• Take 3 shots when Lex kills that old woman with his sexiness 
• Take a shot any time the Kent's discuss protecting Clark's secret 
• Take a shot every single time they say "Save me!" in the opening theme song (this may be lethal, I haven't tested this yet)

UNF.

While I haven't actually played this game yet, I'm pretty sure that if you follow the rules, you'll be drunk in the first few minutes of the show.  I mean, I know I'd be blacked out just getting through the theme song, but I'm a rare case.  Do I need to put some kind of disclaimer so I don't get sued for influencing others to drink crazy amounts of alcohol within a 45 minute time frame? 

So, happy drinking and happy viewing! I'm sure I'll be back with your tips on how to get really drunk really fast sooner rather than later.

Disclaimer: Please drink responsibly. You may want to test the game using cherry Kool-Aid or something like that so you know what you're actually getting yourself into so you don't actually die on account of you being a real damn idiot. 

John Green is Pizza

UNF. John. Stop with that face!

I've done a really fantastic job so far of not letting the nasty beast that is my unending devotion and love for all things pertaining to John Green out and about on my blog (although, I did mention him somewhere on here last spring, so it hasn't been completely locked up). He's a literary god in my book. He makes me feel all the things. He makes me cry, and my tears become John Green books. And, boy, don't get me started on his sexy incapability to blink like a normal human being. (As you can see, I really love him with all my book-loving heart). Plus, it really doesn't help my case that he's one sexy young adult author.

So, if you're not in-the-know about NYT bestselling author John Green, let me send you through a crash course real fast. John published his first novel Looking for Alaska in 2005 and his second novel An Abundance of Katherines in 2006. Then in 2007, he and his brother Hank started this super cool and nerdy YouTube channel called Vlogbrothers. Soon they both had immense amounts of Internet fame and life was awesome. Then in 2008, John published Paper Towns. John co-wrote a book called Will Grayson, Will Grayson with David Levithan, which was published in 2010, and then he came out with the heart-wrenching tale titled The Fault in Our Stars in early 2012. Meanwhile, he's still making YouTube videos and has two kids.  He's won some cool awards and did a thing at Carnegie Hall. Cool beans. Now we're ready to proceed.

So, back in like, I don't know, 2010, John made a video titled "JOHN GREEN IS FAT." *click the link and watch please* In this video, as you saw if you actually clicked the damn link like I told you to, peasants, John addresses that he'd put on some weight and then makes fun of his deepest and most real love for pizza. (I mean, who doesn't love pizza? I don't think I've ever met someone who would hate me enough to tell me they hated pizza. Then again, I only surround myself with lovers of pizza).

Anyway, on with this blog that probably won't mean anything to anyone. 

John Green, while a complete walking/talking product of the World Wide freaking Web, is pizza. Without a doubt, this man bleeds pizza sauce. His skin is cheese. And that adorable puff he often wears on the best of days is Pizza John Crust. He even dressed his first born son, the heir to the pizza throne, in a pizza costume once. Basically, if this doesn't convince you of what John really is, then I don't think you're looking or believing in yourself hard enough.

(Damn, I really hope John never reads this because *STALKER ALERT!*)

Just kidding. I found and stole this from Tumblr

Plus, I have been fortunate enough to get my hands on an alternate cover for The Fault In Our Stars. It reveals so much about John. I'm not quite sure why it didn't get chosen as the final cover. Shame on you, Dutton Books. Don't you know a man's true colors when you see them? Dammit.

So, basically, we have learned a few things today. John Green is pizza and will forever and always be pizza. Also, I am batshit crazy. I need help. Now.  This is probably worse than the several years I pined over the Jonas Brothers.


Okay, I think that's my cue to stop writing. 

September, Be Sweet

Hello, September! So, we meet again.  Hope you don't suck a big black fat one like you did last year! And with that, I flip the page of my calendar to discover how much school stuff I have going on the next couple of weeks. Yeah, I'm having a love/hate relationship with September lately. Can we just fast-forward to Christmas break? No? Really? That's not possible to do? Oh.

I'm going to be really honest, I'm kind of dry on writing material right now because my life is insane (you can probably see that based on my latest blog posts, so I really haven't done a good job at trying to hide it) and sometimes my brain dies on me and I kind of feel like pounding it with one of those defibrillators, but I can't really do that. So, for the record, I'm trying, but I'm probably going to really suck for a while until I find another reason to talk about sex. I know, I know.

It's a little weird to look back on the things I wrote way back when I first started writing on this blog. Everything just came naturally and I didn't have to sit around waiting for something funny or interesting to hit me like a sack of bricks. Posts like this or this were written because I am a random ass college student with random ass, sleep-deprived thoughts. What happened to that instant ability? Screw you, aging and stress and depression and more stress on top and not enough sour patch kids and pizza. Screw all you to heck! 

Wait. I can totally mention sex. Hold on. 

So, I normally don't randomly plug articles on my blog, but I came across this really awesome article titled "Fat Sex: What Every Wants To Know But Is Afraid to Ask," and I think it struck me hard enough for me to want to talk about it some and share it with any of my readers who may be really curious about stuff or who might be in the same boat as a lot of "more-to-love" people out in the world. Basically I loved that the article pointed out that women need to stop trying to hide their fat during sex because their partner is already fully aware of how fat they are. She also goes on to show easy ways to make "fat sex" easier and more enjoyable. It's just a very informative read and also a complete confidence boost. So, I definitely suggest you people go read it.

I don't know. If you guys have topic suggestions for me, please, I beg of you, leave them in the comments or if you actually know me in real life, hit me up. I'm desperate. I'm this close to selling my body on the corner by 7-Eleven and Sonic.

I'll just leave you with Avril Lavigne's latest single "Rock N Roll"