Thursday, October 31, 2013

Was she dying or was she living?

The Devil's screams stopped me in my tracks. The last picture I took was now just a blur as I turned around to see what was happening.

"You know her...go!" Someone grabbed my arm and hurried me to the kitchen, but by the time I had gotten there, everyone had scattered and she was gone. There was a sense of silenced panic in the air.

I was led to a room with double doors, but was scurried out by the maharajah. As I looked in, there she lay on the white bed, a knight and a king hovering over her. They turned to me as the doors closed; the elephant leading me out.

Outside the doors where I stood the room hummed with cats and birds fluttering around, trying to find where to go to after they too were hurried out of the room. I stood by the doors, dazed, before they slowly opened again, the elephant still holding on to me as the maharajah came out.

"Come" he said, the elephant pushed me through the doors and closed them as she stood on the other side shooing the birds and cats that eagerly tried to follow.

As I walked up slowly, the room was quiet. An eerie quiet. The knight held her and was asking questions in a gentle voice. The king was pacing; nervous energy as he looked around for something that I am not sure he even knew what it was he was looking for. The maharajah stood back, his powerful presence added to the tension. I walked up to her and as the knight lifted her from the bed, we all, at the same moment, saw the pool of blood on the pillow. I gasped and we all froze for a moment. We didn't know how bad it was.

"Call an ambulance", the words seemed strange as they were spoken in a calm tone. It seemed like something you would scream in a moment of panic, but here there was a quiet understanding that help was needed.

The maharajah grabbed a towel and brought it to them while I hovered by the bed, unable to move. The knight pulled her closer to her chest as the king wiped her brow, both looking for the gash.

She laid there, eyes closed and beautiful. Was she dying or was she living? Existential questions raced through my mind as the room became still and deafening with the heavy presence of the unknown. The knight talked sweetly; the king wiped the bloody, matted hair from her face. I began to undress the bed and walked to the sink and washed her blood from the sheets. Even the blood that ran down the sink was beautiful.

In a daze, I kept washing until the water ran clear. The maharajah paced, silently; slowly.

Back in the room, I watched as they kept her awake. Soon the ambulance arrived to take her away.

All of a sudden the peacock came stumbling in, looking around, not seeing the scene of the others stabilizing her. The room bustled and their presence made us all feel uneasy. We knew it looked much worse than it was, but that didn't qualm the uneasy feeling their presence had in the room. The peace was gone and the peacock seemed out of place now.

"I"ll go with her" the peacock said as she went to the back room, emerging as just a person minutes later.

As they wheeled her out the back and up the walk, I watched as they tried to keep her awake and the cloud of chaos slowly slipped away. Soon the silence of the night was all around me and I walked back to the room, the smell of blood lingering on my hands.

Through the double doors I walked, greeted by excited cats, curious to know all the details, but the reality was, nothing really happened...or so I couldn't really say what happened, because I didn't know. As they questioned me while we walked to the car, the whole night hummed in my ears.

And the question that plagued me the rest of the night since the moment I saw her looking both beautiful and tragic in the arms of the knight; the king wiping her bloody brow...was this living, or was this dying...?

Friday, September 27, 2013

The Paper Bag Theory...where the good ones are

Being single can be a brutal (albeit exciting) game. It seems there are all these options, but at the same time there are no good options. No one worth dating, that is. They are all "dilfurs" as Dani likes to call them. Or "douches" as I like to call them.

But why is that? Why do we keep finding these dilfurs? Where are all the good men?!

Great question. And the answer is: The Paper Bag Theory.

Stay with me here. I might be on to something.

The Paper Bag Theory goes like this:

You're at a bar with a group of your friends and you see a group of dudes with their friends. The first thing that happens is everyone spots the hot friend or the "Alpha" of the group. He's probably dressed nice, smells good, has something about him that stands out. He is the "smoke" of the "smoke and mirrors" of that group. He fogs your vision so you don't see anyone else. He's a distraction. He is also the one you should not talk to.

Next there is the funny one. The "mirror" of the "smoke and mirrors" in the group, as you might say. He is charming, goofy, makes you laugh and interacts really well with the good-looking "smoke" guy. Together they combine a smoke screen to the rest of the group. The other guys in the group, maybe two or three others, are fine with it because they are either used to it, or not at the bars to pick up chicks. THOSE are the guys you want to talk to.

See, the Entertainer and the Good-Looking One are like magicians who are out for a good time and a quick lay. They charm you and flash their pearly whites, but the reality of it is they have an agenda. And if you are ok with being the weak gazelle that they take home just to hook up with and leave you to walk that oh-so-common walk of shame, then by all means, go for it. But the reality is, you want the paper bags.

The Paper Bags are the guys hiding behind the "Smoke and Mirror" dudes. The Paper Bag dudes are the ones who are cool with going out, but their agenda is not to meet someone, but to just go out and enjoy the company of others. They are the ones to talk to, because they are the ones who will surprise you.

The "Paper Bag Guy" is the one who didn't go out of his way to wear something flashy or wild. He maybe just finished a Fantasy Football Draft with his buddies and is out for a drink. Or maybe he just wanted to go out because it's nice to socialize when you're single. But at first you will not notice him. His attire will be simple and classic, like a brown paper bag. Nothing extravagant or wild, just simple and maybe even a little down to earth. He might be shy at first, or maybe willing to talk, but not sure what to say. But he might open up and before you know it you find yourself engrossed in an amazing conversation you never would have guessed this person possessed.

It's like someone handed you a brown paper bag and you were like, "Um, cool. Thanks?" But then you take time and slowly open the bag to find that what's inside is absolutely amazing! It's like all this time this humble outer shell was hiding something super fucking rad. And that's when you notice how cute they really are.

That's the "Paper Bag Theory". It's the idea that, though the outside might seem simple and "no big deal" the reality is that something super amazing is underlying. You just have to get past the smoke and mirrors and open the bag to find out.

The problem is, girls are kind of dumb. I say this because I am a girl and I am kind of dumb. I was the one always going after the overly good-looking dudes. But to be honest, the good looking dudes are usually dumb...and superficial...and narcissistic. And they make you feel shitty about yourself. They try so hard on a regular basis to look good, that it makes you feel shitty for not trying that hard. They tan, workout twice a day, care too much about what people think and honestly, when they go out to the bars with their buddies, all you can imagine is how they were with you...flirty and kinda manipulative. It just makes you think, "If he was like that with me, he's probably like that with others" and it makes you not feel so special. And then you realize they are not so special. So you dump them.

The funny guy is usually insecure most times. He's compensating for something...either a broken heart, the feeling that he's not as good looking as his friends, he's depressed...any number of things. They are great to hang out with and talk to at bars and parties, but if you end up with them, most likely they will not take anything serious, they will probably be flaky and they will have a hard time getting close because they are all kinds of fucked up. Their humor is compensating for something they feel they lack. It's almost impossible to get close to them, even though they seem to wear their heart on their sleeve. They are usually quite loveable, but hard to get them to love back. Don't go down that road.

The paper bag guy is different. He's sweet, kind and will surprise you at most times because he will do gentlemanly things and you won't know how to react. You might be scared at first and think, "Oh, he likes me" and then you realize, "Oh, this is actually pretty awesome. A guy likes me" because the other dudes are douches and they never communicate their feelings and are too self-conscious or self-centered to be sweet, either in public or alone. (As a red flag, if a guy isn't willing to get close to you in public, he doesn't want to be seen as "with someone". Dump him). The paper bag guy will treat you kindly, the others will treat you like a thing.

The Paper Bag Guy is the kind of guy you feel comfortable with because he is comfortable with himself. He doesn't have to try, he just is. He's the Joseph Gorden-Levitt. The one who seems shy and quite at first, but then  pulls out a guitar and sings, "What Are You Doing New Years Eve" with Zooey Deschanel and you die because you just fell in love with the most adorable man in the universe. And he is confident, but not in a Colin Kaepernick kind of way, but in a Payton Manning kind of way. A sweet, charming guy who knows he's good but would never say it, he just shows it. The "Kaepernick's" are arrogant assholes. Learn the difference between the two. One will fall from grace, the other is graceful.

Most girls do not go for the Paper Bag Guy because she feels like she wants something flashy to parade around..."Look who I am dating now", but the reality is she will end up miserable. And most likely alone. The Smoke and Mirrors are just that. They put up fronts, confuse you, mess with your head and really, it's not about finding a person to be cool with, it's about finding a person to be naked with. And sooner or later you're gonna not look so awesome naked and wouldn't you rather be with someone who you can both laugh at your wrinkles together than feel uncomfortable about them?

And that's the thing. The Entertainer and the Good-Looking One won't be looking for paper bag girls. They are looking for dumb pretty girls so that they will have a common ground...being beautiful dummies. They will go about their lives ignorant and maybe even blissful, but it will be hollow and sad with no depth, just looks. And they will desperately do all they can to hold on to those looks for as long as they can, until the other gets bored and moves on. Most likely the dude because men age well, women do not. Painful fact...well, unless you're Jennifer Aniston. That bitch does not age.

The Entertainer will be the one who looks for someone who has a bland personality, or at least one that doesn't out-shine him. He won't choose a paper bag girl either because paper bag girls have depth and wisdom and humor as well. They are colorful, bright and have amazing personalities. No entertainer wants to be over-shadowed. The Entertainer will also choose a less colorful person...someone to go along with him...someone who does not challenge him or his fragile ego. He may be a lover and a sweetheart, but he has too many issues deep down, so it's best to keep them as friends, but don't get too close.
A paper bag girl is a reader. She's smart, beautiful, creative, maybe a little shy, but might come off as bitchy. She will probably talk mostly with her friends, much like the paper bag guy. She will have a lot to say or maybe look stunning in a bathing suit, but you wouldn't know. Just like the paper bag guy. Under his baggy shirt he might be hiding some legit pecks. But he doesn't care if you see that first or not because he works out for himself, not for others. Same for the paper bag girl. She may look stunning under her clothes, but she doesn't have to show off all the time. You gotta work to see what she has.

Then again, that paper bag dude might, in reality, be a douche. You don't really know until you open the bag.

And that's my theory. That is not to say you can't be one or all three of those people. I am for sure the douche and the entertainer and sometimes the paper bag girl. The funny thing is what I attract based on those nights. If I go out looking all "hot and dumb" I attract the hot dudes. Some of those hot dudes are also paper bag dudes, but still douchey (FYI). There are nights when I am the entertainer and I attract no one because dudes are intimidated by wit, apparently. And when I go out as the paper bag girl, I get more attention than any other night.

Moral of the story, be approachable, not douchey, and you will attract the paper bag boy...and trust me, he's the one you want...

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Love is a son of a bitch...

Is it wrong of me to believe in love? Am I fooling myself in believing that there is a chance for me to find that one guy who loves me as much as I love him? Is that possible?

I had a vision a few weeks ago. I was held by a man and all I could see was his unshaven chin as he kissed my forehead. He was taller than me, my head barely passed his shoulders. He was thin, with dark hair, young, around my age, sweet, and when he kissed me, he meant it. I imagined his dark eyes smiling back at me when I looked up, and I knew he was it. He was the person that I am supposed to meet.

One day.

I'll be honest. I've given up. Like, I have full-on thrown in the towel and I am done. Maybe it's because I saw who I wanted. Maybe it's because I know who I am supposed to be with. I will know it when I see him.

Or maybe it's that I am jaded that the last guy I dated broke up with me through text. A fucking text?! Yes. A text.What the hell kind of chicken shit person does that? Then it took him four days of me coaxing him to finally get him to call me. Fuck that. Fuck him.

It's because of that text that I am over dating. It was like the straw that broke the camel's back. Done. Fuck that. I am far too rad to have THAT kind of shit in my life.

Of course, me being either pathetic or relentlessly forgiving, let the "text break-up" slide and as much as I wanted to call him a piece of shit (which, he is, because that was a piece of shit move) I didn't. Though I have moments when I still feel the urge.

Anyway, it's things like that that make me wonder, why the hell do I even want to bother again? So, say I meet this daydream he going to be a text breaker-upper too? Will he be a douche like all the others? Is there such a thing as a real man who loves a real woman? Do I even want to go there?

My instinct is no. No I don't want to go there again. In fact, if "dream dude" showed up at my door, I'd probably blow him off. Not that I am bitter, but shit, bro, I am exhausted! I used to always have something inside me that made me do it again, but now, now I don't even want to go there.

So despite these feelings of forfeit, why do I still believe in it? Why do I think some sweet, kind, funny, attractive surfer dude who plays the guitar is going to run into me and fall in love? How the hell is that even going to happen? I live in Chico for God's sake. Another depressing thought. The thought of dating in this town makes me want to kick puppies and strangle small children. Eff that ish.

Anyway, I am not even sure why I am writing this. Maybe it's in hopes that if I say that kind of love and man exists, maybe it will manifest and come to me. And the thing is, I don't even know if I want it, but I think I'd like to know it exists...just to say that I believed in something real. That I believed in a thing called love...

Monday, July 8, 2013

The trees are gone and so are you.

The trees are gone and so are you.

While their departure was brutal and unforgiving, their lives cut down limb by limb, our departure was long, heartbreaking and bittersweet.

I guess I knew I would never see the trees again, though I had always hoped I'd see you at least one more time.

I guess we are the trees now.

There was so much hope and potential, a lifetime still, but a foolish decision, one made out of fear and selfishness, brought us down.

You brought us down.

And though I tried to do all I could to save us, tie myself to us, cry to save us, nothing, in the end, would.

At some point someone makes a decision to make the cut, and once it's done, there is nothing left but aching stumps and broken hearts.

Real-life dreams are horrifying.

Sometimes the best time to follow your dreams is when you don't have anything left. When you have run out of money and time and hope...when you don't have anything left but that dream, sometimes that's the best time to just fucking do it.

I don't have much in life. I have a small, close-knit group of friends and family members that don't understand me, but they try, and really, I guess that is all you can ask for, right? But sometimes you need a purpose. You need a reason to live. Some people have a career, or kids, or dogs or a relationship. I really don't have any of those things, so getting up in the morning had been hard for me for a while.

Then one day I thought it would be a great idea to take Christmas card photos with my cat. And that, that idea and that moment right there, that's what has brought me here. That's what gave me purpose. Hope. 

Such a life-altering word, "hope".

It sounds cheesy to say that. "Gave me purpose". Like I don't have amazing things going for me, which I do, but I don't. What am I contributing, you know? Then my good friend Trish gave me an idea that gave me what I needed most...hope. Maybe it was a small bit of "pipe dream" hope, but sometimes that's enough to get you through the day. And when you have that, sometimes you do whatever you can to make it happen.

So then there is Dani. A beautiful, creative, artistic and understanding designer. And she got me. The first night we met, there was something. It was meant to be. Kismet.

So I pitched her the idea, and she was on board in seconds.

But it wasn't that easy.

To accomplish any dream, sometimes you have to depend on others, and that is some scary shit. This is why I am single. I just can't deal with depending on someone else. And for a while I was scared that all my hope was put into this one project and so many factors could have easily derailed it.

Ruined it.

Crushed me.

And I was scared shitless that it was all going to fall apart around me. And that's a horrible feeling.

But I kept at it. I pushed and I kept it going and I emphasized that this was all I really had in the world of purpose. Then something happened. All my superstitious feelings and thoughts and worries started to disappear and Dani and I got closer to finishing one thing after another. It was little things like weekly meetings, or finally taking photos or filming. It was always something small that pushed us further from the beginning and closer to the end...closer to a point where we are now. No turning back.

And that is some scary shit too.

The reason for the delays on our first project was because we were depending on some other people to help, but without them believing in us and what we are doing, to them it's just a waste of time, and since they weren't getting paid, what did they care? But for me, it's about accomplishing something. It's about following my dream and seeing my ideas come to life. It's about putting myself out there and just saying, "Fuck it. This is for you because if you are like-minded, you'll get it and laugh and maybe get something from it."

And that is my purpose. To give.

Our ultimate project stems from some super shitty times I have had in the past 3 years. And from that it made me see something I didn't see before. It made me see the humor in even the shittest of times, even when it was hard to laugh. That is what this is all about...finding that laughter, finding that hope. And while at first none of this will make sense, trust us when we say, the final project is our main purpose for me as a writer, and Dani as a designer and anyone else who wants to join us. We believe in this and we believe in the talents of those we ask to join us. So when we come to you, it's because we know you are talented and could benefit.

Anyway, long story even longer, I'm saying all this because I don't know what's going to happen. It could flop, it could fly. It could be magnificent, it could be devastating. I don't know and I'm scared, but at the same time our ultimate project is worth it. It's worth putting out there to make someone smile. To get them through the day. To give them hope. And damnit, sometimes that's all you can ask for in a day. Hope.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Dubb-Step Time Machine

2010. The year no one can seem to get over.

2010. The year of relationships no one can seem to get over either.

But why? Why is that? What is keeping everyone stuck on 2010?

Honestly, I blame Facebook.

Facebook, the socializing whore. She's to blame.

In 2010 Facebook got real and everyone was on board. Things were new and exciting and if we didn't already have an account we were starting a new one with new friendships...and new relationships. Relationships that linger in our in-boxes and timelines and photo albums. Are we too lazy too let go, or too afraid? Those photos linger in our faces and then a comment tills the soil of our emotions as the photos pop back up in our news feeds.

Can't we just get passed it?

And maybe that's the issue. We are so stuck in this social media frenzy of Twitter and Facebook and now Instagram that we just can't seem to let go. And when one does, the other holds on and then there is this cluster fuck of emotions and friends and social media that is fucking with everyone.

And they all want to be back in 2010 when things were naively simple and those things were new and exciting and not really a part of our lives but at the same time totally were.

And now those things and those relationships linger and we don't know how to part ways. Before it was "delete their number"...done. Now it's "delete their Instagram, delete their Twitter, delete them and their friends". It's clearing out about 45% of what you had so excitedly taken part of and added. And had there not been all these social connections all you would have is the simple awkward run-ins and meet ups and not the knowing of "relationship statuses" or tagged photos.

Or, in your mind, all the good times you're missing out on.

We are fucking with ourselves! We linger and dwell and though we might not think so, someone in the relationship is still tagged in those photos and still reminded of them every so often and of course it was of some awesome happy memory, why else would you post it. So feelings come back and then texts are sent and some are not returned then Facebook and Instagram stalking takes place and feelings are hurt and we need to fucking save ourselves from ourselves! It's a wonder we haven't all gone mad. Or is it we have just become accustomed in the past 3 years?

Accustomed to the all-knowing. Information overload. Emotional over-stimulus. Accustomed to the realities of Facebook and how the once magical moments of something new and exciting has become something of a drudgery and a manipulation and an all-consuming awareness of you and everyone else's actions. We're all fucked up and it's because we crave knowing and controlling. That's why reality shows and call-in shows do so well, WE want to be the ones to control what happens. That's why break ups suck...there is no control over someone wanting you.

So back to 2010. That happy time right before the market crashed and destroyed all our dreams. When we were still in college and shit didn't matter and we were carefree and things were fun. Life isn't as fun any more. Life is real. Except for Facebook. Facebook is not real, but we pretend it is and we Instagram and Pinterest our lives away in hopes of making it into some fantasy that doesn't really  exist (please check your reality here:

We just want to be loved and adored by everyone. We all want to be stars. We all had our 15 min of fame and that was wonderful, but fleeting. Now we are in the "jumped shark" of our days on these sites, clinging to things that were never really ours, the fame that we thought we had actually acquired. Like being the hot new girl at school, just to find out you are just an Average Joe, but for that short period of time, you were something. In 2010, you were on your way. You could do it. Now you're just clinging to a time when we had hopes and dreams and nothing would bring us down.

Welcome to 2013. The year of reality. The year of rebounding the fuck out of 2010. We have had 3 years to cope, now it's time to get over it. Get over those relationships and those dashed dreams and the reality that college might have been the greatest time of your life. Now get over it. Do something else now. Get out of 2010 and live in 2013. If you don't get passed your past, you'll never appreciate the future. Unless you make a time machine, then that shit's legit and we're gonna party like it's whatever the hell year we want it to be.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

All the Single Ladies...

When you get to know me, you'll find that I'm just a little girl who loves to be adored, something I was accustomed to before I returned home to this town. I was always in very loving relationships with men who adored me and who I adored. It was easy to fall in love because everyone was adorable.

And then I moved to this town and was forced to find that adoration within myself. Something I have only recently come to terms with. I have been here for 3 years. That's along time to try and figure out what the fuck is wrong with you. Then you take a step back and realize, there is nothing wrong with you and that, in fact, you are probably more sane than most people you will ever meet in this town.

I don't know what it is that causes this strange affliction in men in this town (and maybe some of the girls here too) but they are a bunch of selfish assholes. I don't know if it is because they were hurt once and never got over it, but there is just this bizarre phenomena that has plagued this town. Gorgeous, smart sophisticated women doubt themselves. Girls sleep with whoever is willing to sleep with them. It's like the most bizarre scenario you will ever witness. It absolutely blows my mind. I myself have even fallen prey to it and it wasn't until recently that I see it. I see that it's not us. It never was. It's the situation

This town is always fluctuating. New young beautiful people arrive at least once a semester. Hopeful and dreamy, hoping for something bigger and better, as most foolish college kids think.

Then something happens. The town gets smaller and sex partners become more like 1 degree of separation instead of at least 6. Before you know it, it becomes a cluster fuck of drama and sex and broken hearts and the only ones ruined are the poor girls who, after all their lives they were held to a higher standard, are now here and are cast away like rag dolls.

I met a guy who I was told was a complete douche. I decided not to believe everyone because, well, what the fuck did I know. I foolishly got close with him and before I knew it, I was another victim. And not just a one night stand victim, but one that lasted over a year. A horrible, painful, self-degrading year, thinking I was nothing because I wasn't adored by this piece of shit.

And then he left. And then he left and all of a sudden, my eyes opened up and I realized, I wasn't the one who had self-esteem issues...he did. He had it so bad that it came off on me and I kept thinking it was me.

It was never me.

It was him

And to all the girls in this town who keep thinking it's them. It's not. I swear, it's not. The men, I mean, the boys...the boys in this town are so fucked up and so bat-shit crazy because girls are so fucking easy in this town that we lose ourselves and think we have to play that same easy game.

But that's not it. We just have to fucking get the hell out of this town. Ok, well, maybe that's the dramatic answer. The real answer is to find your self-worth and stop hanging out with the douchey dudes who have such horrible self-esteem issues that they become selfish horrible pricks.

I know, I know, I spent the last year of my life battling this and it took his ass leaving town to make me see it. And I wish it was that easy for everyone. I wish all the assholes in this town would just leave, and leave the sweet, amazing, smart, beautiful girls in this town for the dudes who deserve them.

I guess, in all the ten years I was gone living in all these other places, I never had this issue. I never hated myself or cared about what some piece of shit dude said because I always knew I could do better, and I always have. But here, the pickings are so so slim, and finding a good one, well, hell...tell me where and I'll point all the beautiful and amazing girls I know in that direction.

What I am getting at is, to all the amazing, cool, legit chicks in this town that I know, please know that it's not you. Please know that outside of this fucked-up little town there are things far beyond your imagination. Please don't get caught up in it and please don't lose yourself in it. I know it's easier to say than do, but trust me...there is a beautiful world out there...get the balls to leave this town, and I promise you, it will all be worth it. just don't let the tools in this town define you...know you're flippin' me...