"But why is the rum gone?"

   It is safe to say that 85% of my college anecdotes are inspired by the effects of alcohol. Specifically, rum. (What can I say, I shoulda been a pirate.) Whether it was the Bacardi Grand Melon of the early years, or the Bacardi 151 Puerto Rican Rum that we worked up to... It was always the rum.
   Bold. No matter the effects of the rum on that particular night, a heightened sense of boldness was always an outcome of the "happyjuice". And what does a heightened sense of boldness lead to you might ask... well the answer is simple. Situations.

(These situations are in not in any sort of order... no need for a defined time line of the numerous situations.)

"5 People, 1 Night"

    Sunday morning as I completed my walk of shame into the cafe for the ritual fried, hangover lunch, I spotted The-Future-7-11-Owner. Immediately after making eye contact I knew he didn't remember a damn thing that had happened the night before. Instantly I knew I should fill him in over lunch so he would understand the disturbing awkward group dynamics that would follow in the next few days.
   Our group of friends consisted of Branded, The-Future-7-11-Owner, GodFuck, Jerseyyyy, and MotorMouth. It was a typical saturday night for the group. The boys made plans and bought Jerseyyyy and I a handle of Bacardi Grand Melon while we sat on our pretty little asses and got ourselves ready to look great. After figuring out we were going to the FriendlyAsians house, we started to make moves. Cracked the bottle and off we went.
   About an hour later the boys were proudly phtographing the first of their beer-a-mids of the night while Jerseyyyy and I laughed at their "immaturity". (Yeah two college boys finished 10 beers. Grow a pair and finish the fucking case.... then your documenting worthy. Pussies.) Then BAM. The epic night of make outs began.
   So Jerseyyyy and Branded had this thing. It was still kinda new at the time and their was still the issue of his absolute bitch ass girlfriend. Oh college... But Branded and I were best friends.... turns out niether of us were really getting ours at the time and randomly decided to make out. Immediately following the spit swapping was a detailed, heart to heart about how we should make out more often because...
1. It was fun.
2. More importantly... neither of us felt anything for each other. (that was the official moment of confirmation dealing with the lack of attraction towards each other.)
3. It helps to blow off steam.
4. It pisses other people off.
5. We both hated our significant others.... so fuck them right?!?!

   So while Branded and I confirmed our lack of sexual attraction towards each other, Jerseyyyy was observing and feeling a little left out. The next thing I know she's in on the conversation and Branded is daring us to make out like it's some completely unheard of and outrageous dare of the century. So naturally, me and Jerseyyyy proved him wrong. Southern, country fuck.... didn't even know what hit him. A few drunken rants, heart to hearts, and outfit judgements later.... round 2 happened.
   So The-Future-7-11-Owner had never actually kissed a girl before. Right... in college and never kissed a girl!!!! Poor boy. So Jerseyyyy and I being the friendly, helpful drunk bitches we were, decided to go help him out with his problem. Next thing The-Future-7-11-Owner knows.... he has not 1, but 2 dancer bitches up on him making him forget the days that "kissing" was a "foreign" idea. (hahaha...it's funny cause he's not American... hahahaha....) Photo evidence included... it's safe to say we turned a boy into... well a little more experienced boy that night. We were such good friends to him.
   So MotorMouth and I had a little thing. It was awkward. I hated my boyfriend, he was nice to me. Typical college emotional fling.... oh college. Basically, he was flirting around with some fat soccer chick and pretty much had to show this bitch who REALLY owned this poor boys soul. So... I walked right up to him, kissed him straight on the lips in front of everyone, he screamed at me and made a scene. Mission accomplished. Girl had been trying to get it all night, I walked right up and did it, ruined his night, she had to calm him down from a drunken rage... BOOM. Fat soccer chick = zero. Me = eternal glory. She still thinks I'm a huge cunt. Whatever.
   The final phase of the night includes the sexiest of Australian men. Basically, I told Branded that I needed to kiss Aussie just so I could say I'd made out with a legit foreign boy. Branded being the best friend that he is passed this info on to his teammate and within five minutes I was having a 100% pure Australian make out sesh. I still consider this one an accomplishment. Win- win situation for everyone.


   Back to Sunday afternoon lunch with The-Future-7-11-Owner... his jaw was now on the table. After a little agreement to not bring up the events ever again, and a thank you for documenting the loss of his make out virginity, the lunch of shame was over. Freshman... we were those people. Me and Jerseyyyy were "those girls" and the dudes were "those douchebags". And ya know what... frankly, we didn't give a fuck.
   Was life awkward for the next three days, yes. But then again, we were freshmen... when wasn't life awkward? Come Thursday afternoon life was normal for a day until Friday night when the Rum came out once again...

Laying Awake

Every Night I lay awake
thinking of art
that I could make.
Movement flowing through my veins
concepts turning in my brain.
Costumes, props, music, and sets
one thought done and on to the next.
The thinking takes over
it's like a disease
although the goal is not to please.
To stir thought, feelings
good or bad.
if you remember my name
then I'll be glad.
When I finally dream the thoughts go away
and the creations transform
into a different array.
Bolder, grander
more and more
so the next nights thoughts
become the dreams from before.

Weekend Revelation

Freshmen.

No matter how mature or responsible they may seem, at the end of the day they are still freshmen.


Freshmen will always be freshmen.

Memoirs of a High School Divorcee: Part 2

   Fast forward to January 5, 2005. The day I had waited for since, what now felt like, forever. Mr. (not)Perfect finally asked me out. Over AIM chat... clearly it was love. If I had any sense ( I was fifteen, so clearly there was none), I would have told him to call me and at least ask me over the phone. But no, I was an idiot and was too caught up with the actual event finally happening. Little did I know that innocent and seemingly perfect AIM chat would set the tone for our four and a half year relationship.


Break Up Numero Uno:

    Junior year, the summer of 2007. I had gone away for a two week dance intensive followed up with an extended weekend trip to NYC. Mr. (not)Perfect had started acting a little strange right before I went away. Yes, things had changed. The first two years of being together were pure, disgusting, high school bliss. This summer... things had started becoming not-so-perfect. I couldn't quite put my finger on it at the time, but I definitely felt a change. So as I spent my time away dancing my little heart out, he was home trying to figure out how to break it.
   It was the typical signs of something not being right. He refused to call me and when I called him, he didn't have much to say. He had sent me a card but didn't sign it "Love". Overall he was just acting like a little punk ass bitch. End of story. How did I deal with this... being miserable, deciding to hate Pittsburgh, and blaming the city on my problems instead.
   Upon my return to good ol' Maryland, we needed "to talk". So Mr. (not)Perfect came over to my house and we chatted. (At least for break up: round one he did it in person...) A few "I've changed", "We can work on its", "Just tell me what you wants", and a "sounds good"... my tears were dried, I guilted him into not breaking up with me, and I got my way. At this point in time I still halfway wore the pants in the relationship...
   If I had been smart, (clearly in the games of love, aging and gaining common sense do not necessarily correlate.) I would have just let it be over. But I was(am) a hard head and my pride was worth way more than my happiness for the next year and a half of my life.

With the exception of a few months, from July of 2007 to April of 2009, HE MADE ME MISERABLE and love was no longer a privilege but a chore.


Therefore:

Missed "break up life lesson number one"=  Because it is ending doesn't mean you failed. It means it is no longer meant to be. Suck up your pride and move on with life.

"Perpetual Bliss"

Perpetual bliss doesn't exist
Come back to Earth,
where the rest of us live.

You know I'd rather stay there too
We must come down.
Society's rule.

While up there we dream all day.
Create and explore,
think as we may.

Build a world based on good
eliminate prejudice
as we should.

Where there's no God but only Truth
No hypocritical words
and we don't need proof.

No fear of wrath, doom, or sin
because the Truth is a source,
of beyond and within.

It lives inside us, energy exchange.
Passing through
those in range.

And then we'll know how it's supposed to be.
Through communal knowledge,
and we'll be set free.

Until that dawn,
we must come down.
Even though it's the cause of a frown.

Till the human race can make that change,
and see the Soul
instead of a face.

Perpetual bliss, doesn't exist.
Come back to Earth,
where the rest of us live.

Because perpetual bliss
will not exist,
until we come down
to share how we live.

Memoirs of a High School Divorcee: Part 1

I've been told by people more than a few times that I have outrageous stories. I agree with them 100%. I fully acknowledge the fact that I have the "entertaining" talent of getting myself into... situations. I've also been told that I should start forming these stories into a written collection. So I figured there was no better place to start putting some of these anecdotes together.

THE LOVE STORY:

"Anti Love at First Sight"

   In high school I was that girl. The girl with the amazingly good-looking boyfriend. Captain of the State Champion dance team. Basically fit in with anyone. Got great grades. Student Aided for everyone's favorite  teacher. Yes, I was that bitch. The girl everyone loved to hate. And what they loved to hate the most, was how I landed the hottest guy in the school.  Well bitches, I'm not quite sure either... but I'm pretty sure it all went a little something like this...
   So the love story begins during seventh grade. About mid fall, the female student body of your typical spoiled brat infested middle school, found their knees knocked straight out from under them as He walked across the grass to the portables. Mr. (not)Perfect had transferred from a school in the neighboring county. The girls were driven wild with his "fuck-this-place" attitude, gorgeous curly brown hair, Billabong "designer" hoodie, worn in to perfection high-top converses, and apparent "LOVE" for his cross county girlfriend. Within a week, stupid bitches like the ones I was told I had to be friends with, had written professions of love all over the bodies and binders. (when someone proclaimed love for another on their binder you knew it was serious!) I on the other hand, legitimately didn't get it.
   #1. He had a girlfriend. If a boy willingly calls a female his "Girlfriend", you leave that shit alone. It's hard enough to rein a boy in, if that bitch can do it at least give her the luxury of enjoying it while it lasts.
   #2. In middle school, all boys are worthless. I was going to go with stupid but then I remembered that is one fact that doesn't change with age...
   #3. If everyone else liked him... there was no way in hell that I was going to agree. Flashback to the young rebel, punk rock, hardcore bitch years... If he was the consensus of "desirable" then I obviously ignored he existed.
   #4. Crushes of the week were so much more fun than longing after a boy who was never going to give you the time of day. Hell. Crushes of the week are still fun. But back to middle school, relationships are never serious. So why not enjoy flirting with a guy, then his all of his bros in the following weeks until he comes back begging. To which you will of course give in to for about a week until you decide to tell him that you're better off friends, but he should tell his friend *Scotty* to call you.

   Basically, I just wasn't having it. Fast forward a year later... August of eigth grade. BAM! When the fuck did Mr. (not)Perfect get so hot!?!?!? So yes, I gave in to the masses. Hung up my black Pac Sun hoodies and checkered converses and traded them in for some layered polos and American Eagle jeans. Traded my "you don't exist" attitude towards Him for the "let me at it" mindset. It's amazing what stupidity will overcome you over one hot summer fling, and your first make out sesh ... stupidity.
   Lucky for me I had a class this year with Mr. (not)Perfect AND my extremely close friend The-Only-Black-Boy-In-School. One AIM chat and a promise to talk to Miss Push-up Bra later, TOBBIS decided to help me out on what would be one of the most grueling battles for love in my 20 years, so far, of existence.

To Be Continued...

Would You? I Can't...

If you saw the latest boy/girl of your heart's affection walk into a room, would you say hello? What if you just missed their eye as they walked in because you were laughing with a group of friends and missed your chance? What if they sat down to eat all by themselves? Would you do it? Would you?

The easiest answer is, YES! That's what you tell yourself, that's what you hope you would do. But would you actually do it?



Me. I wouldn't. For the simple fact that, I'm scared. This was proven today as I ate with a group of my friends when the boy I've been waiting to talk to for weeks now walked in. It would have been a perfect opportunity, but i blew it. I'm a chicken, a coward, a wimp, and a wuss. It's not the fear of talking to someone or approaching them, it's the fear of rejection.

Rejection. It's probably the most commonly feared emotion know to man. The funny thing is, most of us are pretty familiar with the feeling; it's not a rare occurrence. Personally as a human I find it common and as a dancer, rejection is normal. I experience multiple forms of rejection on a daily basis, but the fear of being rejected by a boy... can literally make my body tremble in fear.

So now what, look at the boy and giggle like a middle school girl? Or act my age and just talk to the freaking boy? I think I'll try option two... as soon as I get another chance, stop shaking, giggling nervously, thinking about all the things that could go wrong, assuming he won't like me, actually look decent for once, am not already stressed... Oh dear God help me!!!!

I'm Leaving, I'll Wait.

I write bad poetry. Whatever. Get over it...

Let's go. Anywhere.

The wind calls my name. It whispers directions.

No clear destination, just a way to get there.

If you stay, I might see you soon.

Or you could come, pack a bag, and we're off towards the moon.

There's nothing better than flying past the sky, the grass, and the sea

When you've gone just far enough, to know that you're free.

We could leave today, what's holding you back?

 I think I'll leave soon without looking back.

If you were to say you'd come, I 'd wait a minute for you.

We'd leave without a fuss, no rush, or mess.

And discard all of the things of which we are through.

Either way I'm leaving today,

Unless you give me the word, and for a minute we'll stay.

Day 1 or D Day.

"Day one day one start over again
Step one step one
I'm barely making sense for now
I'm faking it 'til I'm pseudo making it
From scratch begin again but this time I as I
And not as we"

- Alanis Morissette, Not As We

     Further introduction is not necessary, we'll figure it out as we go along. So lately I've been on the idea of ritual to better the self. Yes, I am one of the "self-betterment" freaks who constantly is looking for new and revolutionary ways to improve, fix, and save myself. (If you don't improve yourself, then who will?) So my latest adventure has been a 21day Guided Meditation Challenge, hosted by the Deepak Chopra Center. Tonight will be mediation number 20, I haven't missed a meditation yet and I'm terrified of what will come after tomorrow. After Day 21.
   
     This will be the first of my many "self-betterment" gigs that I've actually stuck to. It takes 21 days to create a ritual, and after tomorrow my ritual will be fully established. I meditate at night, right before I go to bed, while lying on my right side, with a pillow between my knees, and the volume on my computer set to level 4. It sounds a little nuts, but hey. It works for me.
  
     Which brings me to day one. I am terrified of day one. What happens when this pre-organized program is over. Will I fall back into my usual trap of flitting from trend to trend? Will all of the work I've put in over the last 20 days be lost in a flash? I don't want this to happen. Day 1 is supposed to be exciting, not a D day.

     While in the mist of being terrified over the ever-nearing Day 1, I've been having some issues lately with Karmic fairness and the overall balance of the Universe. Something is not right. So I'm choosing to share the entry I wrote earlier from my private, handwritten journal, in hopes of possibly sending out a final blurb of dissatisfaction with Karma, and therefore receiving some change in the energy I've been receiving lately. 

DISCLAIMER: rants obviously don't include the use of logic, proper spelling and grammar, interesting ideas, or any common sense at that matter. You have been warned.

Okay. Viral ranting, do your thing.


     ** Look, everyone screws up. And I'm TIRED of paying for my mistakes. I've more than payed my dues and I've worked so hard to become debt free in the Karma realm. This is not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair at all. I've been nicer, harder working, more respectful, more responsible, more considerate, and much more of an overall better person than I've been in a long time.

     You do something bad and the world fucks you over for it. That's how it works, I understand this. But things seem to be a little out of order recently, or even downright backwards. I try to make myself a better person and the Universe says eat shit. So what's the use in trying. I'm not sure. Hey Universe, care to throw me a fricking bone?**

So back to Day 1:

-Today's Day 1: starting a blog. Easy. Painless.
-Tuesday's Day 1: scary... but hoping for the best.
-Karmic Forgiveness Day 1: Can happen any freaking day now :)