I am deeply paranoid about my inability to figure out what is real and what is not.

I am amazing at taking compliments; while your average girlfriend might reject the compliment a few times, I am willing to not only accept your praise but build on it.  That being said I would like to think I am a relatively rational person.  That being in the sense that I am not so arrogant to not think that sometimes it's a problem with me, not with the other person.  However, I do have an ego problem, where I believe truly everyone does like me more or less.

If you take this high self esteem problem (that only I seem to have), and mix it in with my imagination..  You end up with a false sense of reality.  You say 'go away' and my head immediately adds 'for now, I am just in a bad mood'.  I can't often tell if I am in the good or bad with some people.  Worse, being the rational person I am lol, I am fully aware that my sense of reality is often false, and thus, I become paranoid.

I start to have these problems where I think things are great, and I think that he likes me too, and then suddenly he's like '..You thought we were together?' and I read back and realize.. we aren't.  It was just all being invented in my head.  Then what do you say?  "You were a fantastic imaginary boyfriend, you never got jealous and I never had to explain myself to you."?  After embarrassing yourself like that, I don't think there IS a comeback.

After said problem, I start in with the paranoia..  '....Did he really mean that when he said he wanted to take me to dinner?  Maybe he wants to take me to dinner as friends.  Maxime, don't think too highly of yourself, not EVERY breathing body with a pair of testicles attached is pining for you...' and I bring myself back to earth only to return a few minutes later with '....why are you being so cynical Maxime..  don't think that way' .... And by the time I am done dinner was just a horrible mess!

To fix this problem, I am implementing the basic system that every child uses:

But I would take out maybe.  Make up your mind mate, if you only maybe like me, just go with no.

Take this problem of misreading social situations and apply it to my every day life and you'll understand why I live happily in my own world.. Because your world sucks and in my world everyone likes me.

Girlfriends

I’ve never been one for girlfriends.  In fact, I find the term to be an oxymoron.  Most women take every immediate chance they have to rip me a new one.  In fact, I will be completely honest.  Most women scare me.

That aside, I have always admired these woman clubs other people seem to be in.  They call them their ‘girlfriends’, I prefer the term cult.  Regardless, I am in awe of them.  It would be fantastic for me to be in a position where a girl liked me enough to defend me and emotionally support me or whatever they do.  Truthfully I haven’t figured out what they do because my only real woman reference is Sex in the City, and I have a feeling that is relatively unrealistic considering I am pretty sure no one can live in NY as a writer and afford designer shoes (but really that’s only the beginning of the discrepancies).

So … I went out to dinner with a girl.  Not just any girl, a girl who seemed to think I was really cool (or at least I think so).  We got to talking, and I casually steered the conversation into subjects that I constantly hear brought up amongst girlfriends….  So things I more or less had to bullshit my way through, such as boys and make up.  I know nothing really about them seeing as my closest thing to a healthy relationship is a one way love connection via the internet and chapstick as an all-purpose make up product.  I don’t think you’ll be surprised when I say that after this, things went downhill… 

I bought fake eye-lashes, which I somehow found a way to casually bring into the conversation resulting in the desired results: an ecstatic ‘oh wow really?!’.  I was so sure I was in, right then and there.  I suddenly felt like I had earned my uterus.  We then talked about where I had bought them, when I was going to wear them, and she asked if I could put hers on for Halloween, and I said ‘Yah girl of course!’.

WHAT??  Why would I say that?  What on earth possessed me to think that I in any way should be allowed that close to someone’s face to do anything that is considered a girly skill?  I felt an immediate sensation of pure dread and anxiety. You know that saying “you’ll poke somebody’s eye out”?  I am pretty sure I am about to be an example of that, and I think doing so may disqualify me from this women’s club.

I have spent the majority of today frantically searching through wikihow and youtube for answers to my eyelash dilemma.  After extensive research into the eyelash process, my solution is to explain that I don’t have my glasses and wouldn’t want to make her look stupid, thus as the considerate girlfriend I am, will be unable to fulfill her request for fake eyelashes.  I think this will work.

Being a girlfriend, not nearly as easy as they make it out to be on Sex in the City.

Being emotionally available is too mainstream.

Being emotionally unavailable.  Now that's where it's at.

You've all seen the movies where some handsome man or beautiful woman who is clearly far out of your league, or maybe not as you're also an actor/ress in this scenario, rips you from your shell of 'reservedness', and shows you that love can really be worth it.  Right?  It's the basic story line for any sap who wants to imagine it can happen to them.  They call themselves hopeless romantics..  I say romantic is a little strong.

I had my movie scene moment.  I met someone on a train and then found them again on the internet only to proceed with a weekend fling.  It was 'You've Got Mail' circa 2011.  But where is my happy ending?  Why didn't I come out of this movie moment weekend with this sudden deeper understanding of myself and what it means to be in love?  Oh yes.  Because I am emotionally unavailable and completely lack the ability to express myself in any way, shape, or form, when I am enamoured with some unlucky victim the opposite sex.

The therapists that I don't have, but stalk online, always write things about being able to change if you're open to it.  I think the problem is basically that I am not open to it.  In fact, I am deeply against it.  I hate this feeling.  I hate feeling wide open to anyone.  I would rather have my mug collection smashed while I watch kneeling on the floor in tears before I would let myself be subject to what most people call 'romance'.

People always tell me how you know you're in love when you can't stop thinking of them... your heart begins pounding heavily when they talk back..  you feel butterflies in your tummy when they compliment you...  This is what this sounds like to me:  Subject is describing obsessive behaviour, possibly hallucinations, irregular heart palpitations and nausea.

Aside from feeling cheated out of my happy ending, I am more afraid that i'll never find out what being ill with love truly feels like.  I would like to stress the word ill.

He who does not travel does not know the true value of an unlimited buffet.

Some people say, when things get rough, that it can only go up from where you are.  I don't know what type of encouragement they think they're giving me, because I clearly know they are wrong.  For me, when things are bad, I am fully aware that they can get worse.  I like to think that I have adopted a good attitude about it, seeing as I clearly can't do anything to avoid my luck, and have found many a creative way to improvise.  Also, I like to think that karma has a good hand in it all, as I have had equally as amazing of experiences as I have horrific ones.

Before I left Seville, while remarking about my past six day delay journey from hell with my very soon after Ex, a friend of mine tried to reassure me by telling me that this was indeed the worst it could get.  Travelling was going to seem like cake compared.  They owe me a beer.  I knew the moment I was in the train station at Sevilla Santa Justa, and I had forgotten my winter jacket and my glasses that I was going to need those improvisational skills that I had been honing over the last three years, little did I know that was only the beginning of it all.

I arrived to the United States purely on the kindness of good people, and a miracle.  There was no other way to possibly pull off what I did when making my way into the USA without some phenomenon.  I will spare you a super long work up of everything that happened and just give you the summary:

There was a problem with the train which they originally told me was the brakes.  When the police showed up with their guns pulled, I was pretty sure that was a complete lie, but never the less we were stuck.  After an emotional call to my mother saying I may not make it, the sympathy of the people on the train drove them to trap the conductor in my train car and coerce (bully) him into finding me a way to get to the airport.  They got me a free taxi which got me to the airport with two minutes to spare.  A lovely Irish family helped me into the queue and even got me some chocolate to make me feel better.  In Ireland I spent the night and woke up next to a Spanish girl who asked me if I wanted breakfast.  I wasn't expecting to wake up in the company of anyone, let alone a girl, but I went with it and I spent the day with her.  I felt better speaking Spanish anyway, it felt more natural.  When I finally got on a plane from Dublin to JFK, the plane was late.  I was given only fourty-five minutes to pick up my luggage at Terminal 4, take the air-train to Terminal 5, check in, and go through security again.  I only made it with the help of the German doctor who was so kind to me during the flight and made it possible for me to get ahead of the crowd, and speaking Spanish at security charmed them into letting me into the front.  I was the last to board the flight with one minute to spare.  I made it home.

Sadly, that was the summary.  I couldn't leave out any more information than that and still give the entire story.

The vacation was better than I had expected.  It was lovely to see my family again.  I spent as many hours with my baby sister and my best friend as I could.  It was great to see how their lives have grown and changed, and yet our relationships haven't changed at all.  It was easy to go back to just how things were when I left almost two and a half years ago.  I even got to see my brother, who lives in Boston.  

Now see, this is where karma comes in and rewards me for the journey here...

I met someone.  Well, we can't really say met.  I saw someone.

You know those romantic films where a man and woman see each other from across whatever form of public transportation and/or area they are in, and then through a series of events dictated by fate find each other again?  I lived that, in real life, and he hasn't filed a restraining order. yet.

Falling in love in train cars doesn't seem realistic, and I didn't think so while posting online that I couldn't stop staring at him and that I wished to find him again.  This is where fate comes in: he wished to find me too.  It only took a shocking three hours for us to be in contact.  What started as a joke about my orange line lover, quickly turned into the reality of a craigslist lover.  Who knew craigslist worked?  I still don't fully believe it does, but I have been swayed a little.

Maybe it was the magnitude of good luck that brought me to meet him that forced the hand of karma to give me what I can only describe as the most horrific trip back to Spain I have ever had.  I can't think of any other way that it was possible for things to suck as badly as they did.  It was one of those trips where nothing seems to go right, and you just can't take any more.  I can't even summarize fully the extent of how exhausted I was by day two.

Aerlingus sends me more mixed signals than all my ex-boyfriends combined.  I hate when they send me messages that say things like 'We regret to inform you that your flight has been delayed', but they won't give you any more information than that, leaving you to wonder if you should go and wait it out an hour, or you have to re-book your tickets.  I am pretty good at being blunt, and I don't think there was a lack of communication on the phone when I kindly explained that I had to take a flight from Portland to JFK, so I needed them to give me an idea of whether I should expect to go tonight, or if I should rebook for tomorrow. They wouldn't give me ANY information.  I don't know why they continued to respond 'I don't know' when what I was asking them had little to do with knowing anything, but rather giving me an idea of what I may be able to expect.  I took the flight to JFK anyway, and luckily, because the wait was only two and a half hours.

There was a lovely German girl who was going on the same flight I was on, JFK to Dublin.  She asked me kindly to use an American phone to call someone to say goodbye, but I didn't have one.  She looked like she needed company though, so I asked her if she'd like a bite to eat.  We both had $10 dollar vouchers from Aerlingus to buy some food through the wait, though that doesn't go far in the airport.  I will skip the details of what we ate, all you need to know is she ate the entire burger and plate of fries in record time and I was left in awe.  I have never been so impressed, nor have I ever felt so inferior as I stared down at my half burger, unable to eat any more.  She tried to console me by telling me that it was because she was German... What kind of excuse is that?!

She was lovely though, and we spent a few hours together waiting, and drinking.

When I arrived in Dublin, I had yet another seven or so hours to wait.  This is where things went truly badly.  I almost got kicked out of the airport.  For drinking.  In Ireland.  Did you get that?  Let me say it again.  I got in trouble for drinking in Ireland.  Don't sell it if I can't drink it.  They made me out to seem like a drunkard in the middle of the airport.  'Miss, I am sorry you can't drink wine here'.  Really?  Since when was Ireland against public drunkary?  Since when did I seem like a drunk??

They gave me a voucher for internet use in exchange for my wine bottle, which truly was only exchanging one 'addiction' for another.  All I did was go online to complain about Ireland suddenly becoming chaste about public drinking.

Luckily, not all of Ireland shares the airport's sentiments.  On the plane the lovely elderly woman next to me kept trying to feed me alcohol and cookies.  For free.  I accepted.

Anyway, I was lucky enough to find my way to a hotel for the night, where I was so exhausted by the journey that I immediately passed out in preparation for today..  It is currently day three of travelling, and as I write this I am still not in my house.  Soon though.  I will be soon.

Just don't travel with me if given the opportunity, it's the only advice I can give you if you want to maintain your friendship with me.

You're what makes New England so great.

Pad Thai.  I want to have Pad Thai with you.

I promise not to wear white to dinner, I am not so arrogant as to show off my hand-eye coordination so shamelessly.

It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious.

I am charming.  Modest, not so much.

No but truly, I consider myself charming.  I read a quote not long ago that said charm is the ability to make both parties to the conversation think they are pretty wonderful.  It's true, there are people that you talk to who just warm you up inside, and make you feel comfortable.  I am one of those people.  I have the ability to make people ambitious and excited just by being near me. That is, unless, I have a crush on you.

I can be wooed, I can even play the cat and mouse game... but wooing?  That's an entirely different story.  When I try to woo, I am no longer bilingual, in fact, I fear I have no language.  I have no coordination, and I have no ability to judge.  I am not just talking about judging alcohol intake, which I also lack, but judging distances, judging social situations, judging how interested they are.  It's all magically gone, and I am left with some type of verbal deficit of a nature that I can't really explain.

In fact, I would say my abilities with men are so lacking, you should be more worried if I am charming you than if I am not.  Though if I am not, you may be tempted to leave, in which case I beg of you to believe me when I say I am not actually as retarded as I seem... and whilst the emotional scars of watching me in such a state may last forever, I will soon loosen up and I promise you, I am quite fun.

Don't expect poetry out of me normally. Seriously.

I loved you, and I probably still do, And for a while the feeling may remain... But let my love no longer trouble you, I do not wish to cause you any pain. I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew, The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain - Made up a love so tender and so true As may God grant you to be loved again.

Cynicism is the intellectual cripple's substitute for intelligence.

I don't even know where to begin on how much I hate this word.  Cynicism.  Not even the word, but the stigma that comes along with it.  And unfortunately, this word has been playing a more than desireably big role in my life recently.

I had someone say to me not that long ago that I am not as cynical as I pretended to be.  I am not sure what kind of backhanded compliment that was, because on one hand I would hate to be cynical so at least they don't think I am, but on the other, it's even worse to think that they think I would be so insecure about myself that I would try to pretend to be unhappy?  I can't fully grasp my head around that concept.  I wish I could say this wasn't the only time someone has come to me expecting me to be some sort of deeply angered person.  I don't remember ever being so deeply damaged that I became cynical..  I feel like I remember the opposite -- I always expected too much out of everything.

But moreso, what really drives me crazy is this idea that if you're cynical, it's because you have a deeper understanding of the world.  Thus, making naiveté the opposite of cynicism, which is an idea that I completely disagree with.  Going through life is an uphill battle, and no one is going to tell you otherwise.  Those who think that cynicism shows some deeper understanding of this battle are completely wrong.. It shows defeat.  Maybe I am not cynical, but not because I don't understand the world around me, rather that I haven't lost yet.

I may not be very strong as a person, physically or emotionally... In fact, I would say that I am quite sensitive. Sensitive is not weak.  I am resilient.  You can knock me down as many times as you want, it doesn't matter.  I will get back up.  You can say passively hurtful comments, backhanded compliments, or just downright insult me, and I may cry..  But at the end of the day, I walk away, and you're still just as hurt inside.  

I see everyone's eyes roll at me when I get excited about stupid things, and when I cry at baby orca shows, and when I use the same adjectives over and over again...  But who is the stronger of us?  The one who rolls their eyes at you for finding the beauty in the world despite how many people want to knock them down?  Or the one who doesn't get knocked down because they've already closed themselves off?

One of the saddest things that can happen to a person is to just become disengaged from life.. And that's what cynicism really is.  But not me, I have a non stop list of things that I can smile about.  And smile I will.

I see everything as a personal challenge.

Everything.

Before you jump to conclusions, and call me competitive, or childish, think for a moment and hear me out.  Everyone is taught to set goals for themselves right?  In fact, in weight loss programs, for example, they tell you to set small goals that are reachable and will make you feel good about yourself.  So why not do this in your real life?  Just don't tell anyone, lest you scare them out of being their friend (because of their clear inferiority, seeing as they have won none of these silent challenges).

We have already discussed my slight obsessions with buffets.  Let's look at it from another angle.  It doesn't have to be that strange lady who puts rolls in her purse and eats four plates of food while denying medical attention because she is sure that if she just lets it digest a bit she can eat more.  It can be that woman who is single-handedly taking down the man by decreasing profits and increasing a health care bill that she will pay for on government insurance.  Yet - as I lay there in the booth convincing whichever unlucky boyfriend (not for long) I have managed to coerce into coming with me, into getting me another plate..  No one thinks me a hero.

It isn't just buffets that I win at either.  I win at everything in my little world.  If we're walking to the door, and I am ahead of you, you can be sure that in my head I am thinking 'bahaha sucker'.  If we're talking on the phone, and I make a quick run to hang up, hanging up before you counts as a win in my book.  I am not crazy, I am self motivating.  I directly attribute my high self-esteem to my ability to win at everything.

Moreso, on the rare occasion that I lose, no one knows.  Recently, and I will leave names out of this so said competitor does not know he won, but I lost a pizza eating contest.  I was the only one participating in the contest, and I cannot even begin to tell you how much pizza was consumed throughout the 30 minutes I sat at the table, but I can say that I felt horribly ill for hours, and the other person continued to eat.  While it was shameful, seeing as not only did they clearly win the contest, but they didn't even know thus didn't try, I did not have to tell them they won and never had to put up with gloating.. Just a few awkward looks because I seriously ate an inhumane amount of pizza.  It's ok, I wasn't trying to woo them so there was no need to look feminine.

The long and short of this is..  Set personal challenges, win at everything.  Like a boss diva.

Love to me is a four-letter word.

I don't think there has ever been a time in my life where I felt comfortable to 'be in love'.  I would describe the feeling of love more as a symptom of a greater, and more terrifyingly terminal illness.  Don't worry, I won't compare it to cancer as that would be horribly insensitive and people might find it offensive.  Actually, no, I would equate the dread I feel for that feeling to the dread I feel for getting skin cancer. I'm realllllly white.

Don't get me wrong, I think it's beautiful.. For other people.  And I can fully understand the concept, and the desire, to fall in love.  I just can't go there myself.

Dare I explain how all of this got brought on?  Well, it all started with a memory box.  In this memory box I keep love letters, and cards I receive with flower arrangements..  So on so forth.  Lovey things, of which sadly I have many.

I know that often I joke about being a maneater, or a diva, but truthfully, I am only a fan of the 'have your cake and eat it too' take on romance because I can't eat a cake..  That is to say, in the matters of love, I am diabetic.  That is to say..  if love were cake, I would be the diabetic that sees the risks, admires the cake, but doesn't eat it..  Whilst most would take a bite just to feel it, and risk high blood sugar.. Which by the way makes you grumpy.  The more I continue, the more I feel that love is more like diabetes than cancer.

As I equate love to various illnesses, I realise why I am single.

I read these love letters various times over the course of a few months after having received them, but I realise I feel just as uncomfortable reading them now than I did when I received them.  It's that sense of dread, like they've offered some great gift to me and not only am I incapable of responding appropriately, but I know that by a lack of action, I am in fact responding.

Well said.

Please don't take me for a cynic, or try to over-analyse this post.  Clearly I have been near the ultimate 'love goal' once or twice in my time.  Once or twice too many if you ask me -- I spent many an uncomfortable year dodging the 'L' word, and many an awkward conversation mumbling out whatever I can find in the back of my mind trying to avoid saying 'you're cute'.  I am no farther from the sanity train than the rest of you if you ask me.. I'm just more honest about how comfortable I am to be riding solo.

All of that being said.  You can buy my love for a limited time with a starbucks mug.

If it's free for me, give me three :D

Free shit.  I love it.. And I mean really love it.  It doesn't matter what it is, if I'll ever need it, if I'll use it, if I even want it -- I make a point of taking as much as possible when it is free.  I bring an entirely new meaning to frugal.

This attitude, whilst making me what I would like to so generously call an opportunist..  Also makes me a danger to, say, buffets.  Buffets to me are just a challenge.  I see it as: I have paid X amount to eat an unlimited amount of food.  Therefore, per food item, I am decreasing the amount per item paid, until I get a great deal.  By getting a great deal, I have ensured that the weight I have gained from said endeavor was for a good cause, thus, feeling good about getting pudgy.

My boyfriend.  Don't be jealous.

The only thing I am worse with, is samples.  Free samples.  I will actually double-back and go for gold.  Shame is not a problem for me, and even less if I am on vacation or in an area I don't visit a lot.

And if you thought that was embarrassing, wait until you actually go on holiday.  I will do things like extra ironing while the electricity in our hotel room has already been paid for, excessive water drinking if it's free, and even worse, those free sides they offer at some hotels or bars -- in my purse.

Maybe this links with my apparent hoarding problem.

Flirting?

More like flirting with disaster.  Clearly this entire area of social interaction is somewhat blurry for me, but I can tell you with absolute confidence that grabbing someone between the legs is not how it's done.  That crosses an entirely new line of 'forward' of which not only am I unfamiliar, but completely uninterested in knowing.  People say I am direct, but, like that?  Goodness no.

The best part about this image is -- it showed up when I typed in 'flirting'.

It links you to a sexual assault website.

They must have had a run in with previously mentioned overly-forward man.

This is what I found when searching Sexual Assault:

Girl, is that a multicoloured shiny blue and pink rainbow tie?  He's not checking out her ass, he's checking out her shoes.  'Flirting' got much more questionable images.

What I would really like to know is, does that really work for some people?  Do women line up just for a quick vajazzle grab? (is a Vajazz-hands joke too crude to make?)  Because I am only assuming it was done with such confidence because it had such good results previously.  What I thought was creepy to start turned into 'potential rapist'.  All I can think is that if he wasn't trying to flirt with me, he was checking to make sure I had nothing there.  Is that a common problem for him?  Do I instil doubt in what gender I am?

If you remember my other posts, I tend to only have romantic run-ins with say.. Scandinavia.  This does not make me in any way knowledgeable about flirting.  In fact, I would say this makes me less experienced than the average uterus owner*.  I can however say with certainty that a choch grab is no way to woo a lady**.  The funniest part of all of this though, is that said overly-forward man was wearing a Norway T-Shirt.  It's like Scandinavia is sexually assaulting taunting me all over again.

Then again -- Maybe this is why I have thus far been unsuccessful in Spain.

*Woman
**In most countries.  I am clearly not an expert.

Spring Cleaning.

So, it's not spring, I know..  But I decided to do some spring cleaning.  I have just finished my courses in the Academy, and now I have papers galore that I don't need.  This sparked greater ideas, such as, where to put all of the millions of boxes of creams, markers, crayons, and pharmaceuticals which come in boxes that all look the same with names I don't know if I could read in English let alone Spanish.

Aside from my sudden urge to organise all of last year in anticipation of the next two summer months, I have discovered I am a hoarder.  There was no nice way to transition into that statement.  I am a hoarder.  I own things (I think they're mine, I am not particularly sure) that are of no use and will never be of any use to me, and I somehow find ways to tuck them into drawers and boxes.  Or the forever useful 'if I stack it nicely, it looks organised' tactic.

Why would I ever need three bags of Norwegian sweets?  Or a big red and pink candy cane?  Or expired train tickets that no one is ever going to reimburse me for?  Or cardboard jewellery boxes that are too small to fit anything and I will never use to give gifts because I am too cheap to give out jewellery.  Another good question might be how did I come across 28 ikea pencils?  And what are they doing in a mug from mallorca..?  Do I know anyone in Mallorca?  I haven't been.

Cleaning my room is not just about reorganising myself any more.. It's an adventure.  Every time I pick up something that I can't remember ever buying or having or think I will never use.. I spend about 10 minutes trying to remember/invent a cool story on how it came to be.

All of those people who say they're doing spring cleaning and they just dust and throw out a few old papers, you're amateurs.  Clearly you lack my ability to find/keep things that you don't remember later you have (not that it matters because you don't need any of these things either).  And by ability, I mean talent.

Also, That was only making it through my desk.  I haven't even touched my book shelves.

Also, by hoarder I meant diva.

If you don't know who I am, don't fb poke me.

I think you all know what I am talking about.  There are always those few people who don't make any effort to talk to you (most likely because you're just acquaintances) but still poke you ALL the time.  A poke is not a form of communication.

I have found something worse.  BBM stalkers.  BlackBerry Messenger.  I am all for telling people what's going on in my life.  Hell, I even made a BLOG in order to update everyone on how Diva I am.

But there are a few people who will message me just to update me on their daily activities.  This includes just how they are feeling at that moment, just to say 'hi' but not wanting an actual conversation, or even to tell me what they are currently doing which is why they can't chat.  Despite having proven otherwise in the majority of my posts, I have difficulty keeping tactful relations with people.  This means, I don't even know how to properly respond back to some of these messages because I really and honestly don't care.

A realistic representation for said people.  Also -- they forgot the apostrophe.  Probably because they were too busy updating their blackberry crackberry.

But it gets worse than this.  Because sometimes when I don't respond, they do this 'PING'.  That makes my phone beep louder.  No I promise you, I read that you're feeling happy, but can't talk because you are currently cleaning..  And hence why I didn't respond.  Furthermore, what did you want me to respond with?  I got your message.  I don't know what you want me to say.

It's almost as if ever since getting a blackberry people have decided they no longer need to use their facebook feed -- they can just BBM it to me.

I haven't even figured out if these people want sympathy from me for whatever it is they are doing and/or feeling, or if they want me to respond with what I am currently doing and/or feeling.  Neither of which I am willing to do.  (I once tried to respond with 'I'm pissing', and said person told me that wasn't a very lady-like thing to say...)

I also don't mean to be rude here, but, unless I am receiving some type of loving from you, such as a boyfriend, I don't put up with this.  To clarify, I mean REALLY GOOD loving.  None of this mediocre stuff.  Being available to read your every thought and feeling is not worth a friendship to me.  And I am not even fully sure I would put up with this from a boyfriend.  I would dump you.

I am however available in case you actually want to chat, something major has happened in your life and you want to share it with me, or you're bleeding to death and need assistance.  You probably shouldn't call me for the last, but, I would actually respond.  I'd also PING you to make sure you're still alive.

Mother fuckin' sharks.

So this weekend I was at the beach.  Only two days, but enough to be so sunburnt that I am struggling to type this post.  The only thing that can fix this is time and a lot of paracetamol and ibuprofen, and even then, scars may be left.  That's an exaggeration, but, it really really hurts.  And it's true that no amount of aloe or painkillers is seeming to help.

Ok so -- for all of you who know me, you already know that I have an 'over-active imagination'.  This means, you see one thing, and I see it 20x worse (or better)..  Or more often, I see something out of nothing.  I can be walking down the street for example and I see trash bags, I am pretty sure it's a dog by the way they are stacked..  It doesn't help I need glasses :P

Now - Add in my super irrational fear of sharks, and the ocean, and it's just bad news.  Just to make you understand further, I have such an irrational fear of sharks solely based off of seeing the trailer to jaws as a child, and as a result I used to fear that sharks could come out of the tap in the bath.. Yepp.

That means, when you bring me to the beach, add in a few beers..  This is what you see:

 

No I am not kidding by showing you this.. And I think you all know what I am talking about when you go into clearly seaweed infested waters and you think fish are grabbing your feet.  I really don't think that is just me.

And this is what I see:

Except, not as big and more blood-thirsty.

As long as I can see my feet, I am usually more or less ok.  Also, I have pride issues so unless I really trust you I will pretend like I am not about to have a heart attack or any other fear related injury whilst I slowly walk in the water only to make some type of excuse and peace out.  Not that I do that.

And for further emphasis.. Again.  This is what you see:

Annnnnd what I see:

Doesn't look so bad?  Try stepping on them.  More painful than pebbles.

You call it crazy, I know.  I call it.. creative.  If you don't like that way of putting it, I would also accept overly-safe.

Think of it this way -- next time you're on the beach and you see a shark and think 'oooh why is the beach so seaweedy' I will already be on that beach watching your demise.  Why? Because you're not precautious enough.  

Prime example:  Today I was on the beach, and I was pretending to walk into the water saying how cold it was ready to leave (again, not that I do that).. And I step on something and I swore it moved.  Everyone laughed at me and said it was a rock slipping from under my feet.  That is until the fucking sting ray I had just stepped on and hit my foot with it's little flapper things escaped and started to swim away.  

Think about that. I just ruined the beach for you.

Talent number 1,492,245.6

Yes, I have that many talents, and... fractions of talents.  The '.6' in the number above is how much tact I have got in social situations.

Not that you didn't know, but the number above is a gross exaggeration.  As previously discussed, my talents are far and few, and the majority of them have no real world application.  This one, for example: My ability to caption pictures of animals.

No it's ok, I know what you're thinking.  I obviously spend too much time on the computer.  And the reality is, if you had this talent, you would too (clearly, you don't).  There is no real way to showcase how good I am at it.  For the most part, you'll just have to believe me (lol).

"Lawd have mercy"

 "You hear that??"

Jealous?  I thought so.

I have no idea how Icanhascheezburger has not called me to hire me for my talents.  Quite possibly it's that they are living in fear that I will take over the company.  Smart thinking, Icanhascheezburger, smart thinking.

What do you call a 30 year old still working at Burger King?

A philosophy major.

No but really, this is my biggest pet peeve.  I feel that the philosophy degree has about the same value as studying home economics.  This rant has been brought on by how I feel about 'bloggers'.  Hello pot, this is kettle, yes I know.

Hear me out.  I was always taught that everyone has their own opinion.  That every opinion is right.  My mother instilled this into even the most diva part of my being (99%).  The idea to me that someone feels their opinion is so much more important that it should take them four years of proper study to hone in on their inner skills for the benefit of mankind goes completely beyond me.

I won't deny that I have a thing for super smart guys.  We all know that if you can do derivatives off the top of your head, or talk to me about politics in an educated (but liberal sorry I am picky) manner, I will be more or less plotting my chances to date you (on a graph, most likely).

That being said, a thesaurus does not a smart man make.  Put down your thesaurus, because I don't find you apt, astute, brilliant, canny, nor clever.  In fact, I would say that I find you to be rather arrogant, pretentious, snobby, and stooping.  See look, I can use a thesaurus too, and it only made you dislike me.  Point proven.  (This is the ONLY thing I learned in my one philosophy class, which I could barely sit through.  I also lack self discipline.)

Ok but regarding the real reason I have made this post.  I have never been a blogger, except for a possible livejournal here or there throughout my angsty youth.  Aside from having previously explained in other posts that I lack the organisational abilities galore, I have never really enjoyed the idea of putting my opinions out for the world, because I feel they are just that.  Opinions.

I won't deny that I get annoyed with people who feel their blog is somehow a manifestation that could one day get published into a novel, because goodness how could it not with all the massively great ideas they are just spewing.  I didn't even want to post on my facebook originally that I had started a blog.  I was embarrassed.

Can we really call a blog of self deprecating humour a pretentious blog though?  I really hope not.

I lack many skills, but being a Diva ain't one

I'm not sure if Spain has just brought out the vajazzled (even my girly wimpy side brings a little diva flare) side of me, or what.  But as of late, I have been nothing short of a wimp.  Which is difficult enough to admit, because more or less this is how I see myself:

Clearly I have identity issues.

I won't deny that having friends in a million different countries has been tiring, both emotionally and financially.  My friends stretch from the USA, to England, to even Norway (depending on if their internet lines are frozen or not), to god knows where.  I think anyone who knows me knows that I am more or less a basket case.  Charming, albeit, but a basket case.  I am forgetful... selectively.

This means that keeping in touch by e-mail or phone are not only quite difficult for me, but require some type of organisation skill that I just seriously don't have.

Anyway.  This is for all of my friends in other countries who are currently lacking a full time black diva in their lives.  I hope your lives have somewhat commenced back to a normal pace and you are no longer living in fear or whatever type of emotion you felt being my friend.

Don't worry.  I think this may be my last emotionally charge nostalgic post.  I think.  The 'bad ass mother fucker' part of me says yes.  That's a pretty big part, by the way.

Besitos, you all know who you are.  I'd post up a cute quote about friendship for you, but, the octopus takes the cake.

Relationships.

There are things in this world I find less scary than the idea of a (clingy) relationship.  These include, but are not exclusive to, the rapture, the end of the world, and being hit by a bus.


I have to admit that sometimes, living in Spain where the women seem to exclusively want boyfriends with whom to be around twenty-four hours a day, has been a little difficult.  You should see some of the reactions I get when I say 'no I am really not looking for a boyfriend at the moment.'  It's comparable to a reaction one might expect when delivering bad news like 'I've got cancer'.

Moreso -- people are relatively shocked by my idea of long distance relationships.  Clearly they have not really worked out for me how I thought they would, just ask Norway, but the idea behind them I still believe in.  (You have your life, I have my life, and at the end of the day we have each other to confide in.  Perfect idea no??)

Clearly, my philosophy on life (or in this case romance) is very different from the masses. But this is why relationships don't work out for me:
1) Why you gotta be calling me all day every day?  I adore you, surely, but maybe not that much.
2) If I am your ONLY ambition, I won't be flattered, I will feel smothered.
3) If you didn't have guy friends, I would be concerned.  Please go out with your guy friends.  I'll go out with my guy friends ... yes.

I feel this should be everyone's philosophy.  Apparently I am alone on this thinking.  And also single.  I think that was more or less a given.

Relationships -- you're doing it wrong.

Surely I can't be that alone on this one.. can I?

Let's play the quote game.

No truly, this is what I do when I have free time on my hands.  This and what I like to call 'owning by existing.'

The game goes like this...

Photobucket has a wide range of 'picture quotes'.  You know the quotes I mean, right?  The quotes about true love, or being yourself, or going against the masses...  The ones that 14 year old girls post up on their facebook and insist on tagging everyone in.

So.  The challenge is to find a picture quote, and finish it to make it more realistic.

....."shop as if your boyfriend won't miss the money"

....."unfortunately"

....."And your other personality might be a little hurt."

....."Because I just got it." (also the type of girl who can't spell silence... or happened.. or I'm...)



But more importantly.  As I was playing this game, and searching through the 'quotes' section of photobucket.  I found this.

Seriously.  How is this a quote.  How.  And how is this in the 'friendship' section?
This octopus clearly has about the same tactful philosophy that I have when it comes to making and maintaining friendships.  If you start out creepy and they still read your e-mails/text messages, you're more or less in the clear for the rest of your friendship.

Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.

Bull shit.

Aside from never being prepared, I am also not opportunistic.  Luck is not really on my side.  It never really has been.

I am more or less hoping that writing about all of the ridiculous things that happen to me, and my failed attempts at handling them in a tactful and reasonable manner, will bring some humour into my life.  I've always been told I am pretty funny, but I am pretty sure it's in the 'laugh at' kind of way.  Regardless, when you haven't got many talents to chose from, you have to just go with what you got.  I have the ability to make people laugh.

Let the show begin.