I try to find the humor in the everyday. The fact that strange things tend to happen to me doesn't hurt either. This blog covers random thoughts and personal stories- from the taxi driver who played the flute WHILE driving to sending rash text messages while mercury is in retrograde (whatever that means). Normal stuff.
Well, if dating isn't the thing that's gonna kill me, passing in the halls of the junior high surely will. True story, fourth graders are currently clocking in at my height. I got body checked by a sixth grader today. Don't even get me started as to what happens at the high school. The only way to tell me apart from a student is the lovely school id that hangs around my neck. It matches all of my outfits-the lovely maroon color (sarcasm here). Where kids are not good for knocking me over, they are good for the ego. A girl turned to me, practically in awe and said: "I love your dress. It's so pretty. You always look so pretty. How do you do it?" Girl, I want to put you in my pocket and carry you around with me all damn day. That's the kind of talk I should be talking to myself, but I, like way too many of us, am way too my hard on myself. For goodness sake, when I found out I had cavities I spent a good solid four minutes apologizing to the dentist. I brush, I swear! Today I got those two cavities filled. Nothing like dentistry to get you questioning how you are able to breathe. I had all this shiz in my mouth and my face had gone completely numb and I was sitting there trying to figure out how to breathe through my nose. Forget yoga people, dentistry is the ultimate way to gain breath focus. Also, if I'm sitting there wondering how to breathe through my nose, does this therefore insinuate that I'm generally breathing through my mouth?! Certainly NOT attractive! As good ol' Mary Poppins would say. "Close your mouth, Michael. You are not a codfish."
I don't know if it is the Novocaine or what, but I am feeling much (well, slightly) better about life today. I came to realize that the only person I should be dating right now is myself. That sounds totally weird, but it is true. I need to focus on being kinder to myself and re-realizing what makes me happy. So far, I know that music makes me happy. In my low times, I have found myself turning to the obvious choices: 80s power ballads, Sinatra, Coltrane, a little indie rock, and lots of hip hop. People are often surprised by my KILLAH persona, but here's the thing: much of the hip hop music/culture epitomizes something that I desire to encompass; that being seriously not giving a damn. Everyone thinks Kanye West is a total dickward, and perhaps this is true, but you know what, he does not care! He does not care! It's a beautiful thing. My brother once turned to me and said, "Do you think Jay Z cares if some b turns him down?!" Certainly not, for he is "onto the next one"! The Ying Yang Twins are also quite wise: "You fine, but I ain't gonna sweat you." And there is of course Bone Crusher who "ain't never scared, what! East side!" as well as the ever energetic Lil Jon: "Don't start no shit, it won't be no shit." And Lil Wayne "talks to himself because he's his own consultant." Aka trust yourself, peeps! I could go on and on...It's all really great advice. REALLY.
Besides listening to music and solo dance parties, I also really enjoy talking to random people. Lately I have been chatting up a 60 year-old man in the park, and not gonna lie, we've become sort of bffs.
When it does come to dating a real dude again however, I wonder where I will meet him. I have observed many an attractive fella driving by in a car. Now, I have no qualms about holla-rin' at dudes as they walk by for there is not the matter of the window blockage. But how does one literally get a message across through a vehicle...Any thoughts on this matter?!
Additionally, I am super broke right now. Mo' money, mo' problems though, so all good, right. With that said, I don't want to spend money on cat litter, and am wondering if it is a good idea to dig up dirt from a nearby park and throw it in Cheddar's box?! Probably not???
And now, in honor of being true to oneself and going full speed ahead, here's some Kanye. Good people, before he became totally egotistic, he got his jaw wired shut and drank an Ensure for dessert. Not only do I relate to Mr. West right now because I am coming into my own as he once did, but also because I will too be drinking an Ensure for dessert (on account of the numb face).
So, here are my thoughts on dating: it is the worst. There are a lot of terrible and unfortunate ways to die and I'm not entirely convinced that dating won't be the death of me.
June had me headed to New York. A certain dude knew I was coming and I was excited to see him. Once I arrived, said dude was "too tired" to hang out....for the entire weekend. This came after months of him pulling the Houdini act followed by the inevitable resurfacing to tell me how much he likes me. And I was dumb enough to fall for it. So, I'm in NY, the first two nights staying with friend and her fiance; the fiance whose name is of course the same as the dude who just blew me off. Again. To make matters worse, of course my friend and I saw Heathers the musical and watched Heathers the movie, aka this was a funny, campy movie except now that is real life and is about everyone dying in a school and hey, I work in a school, and this is depressing. My parents had gotten me a hotel stay for my birthday and so my last night in NY I watched A Long Way Down, a film adapted by a book by Nick Hornby which I enjoy, but of course, is about suicide and also, a bit depressing. Oh, and I cried relentlessly on fancy sheets. Good thing about this trip is I became officially over New York, finally.
July had me trying to "date around" as the good people say. It's healthy, they're telling me. Well, I went on a few dates with one guy, a postdoc at the age of 28; how the hell does that happen?! Also, why did I keep falling for musicians and now literally every guy is trying to be or is a professor? Two professions to cross of my list, for sure. Anyway. He was actually pretty great but I was still too sad over the NY Numbnuts that I couldn't handle it. Then, I met this other dude. He was too embarrassed to meet me in person, having "met" me online, so he just wanted to come over my apartment. Well, I figured if I didn't die, it'd be a story anyway. And I did ask him straight out: "Are you going to kill me", which he replied, "No, probably not." But seriously, not a good idea, people. Don't have random strangers come over your apartment. Thankfully though, he did not kill me! Score! Well, this guy and I talked literally for an hour and a half. He had some good values, I didn't mind him, but it was an hour and a half. Two days later I received a paragraph text saying he is absolutely into me and asking if I felt the same way. He spent the next month and a half texting me and asking me to cuddle which creeped me out. I finally told him to stop and he agreed but not before asking if we could have a "physical" relationship. After I said no, literally two seconds later, he said he wants to be friends at least, that I'm cool. The next night he texted me at 11:30 pm, asking what I'm up to. Seriously, people?! Seriously??
Then there was the week where I went out with both a Jay and a JJ. It was becoming confusing to keep these dudes straight at this point. Summer is supposed to be a relaxing time, but it felt like I took on a new full-time, NON-PAYING, terrible job with weird hours. So much, "wanna get a drink at ten pm?" happening. Honestly, no I'd rather be in bed, or at least doing something summery like throwing water balloons than meeting with you over a drink at 10pm, but sure, let's do it! JJ was actually pretty cool but he had three kids; one of whom happened because of Osama Bin Laden, I was informed five minutes into the date. He needed some comfort from the terror of 911 and so ran into the arms of an ex and whoop, baby number one. WHAT?! The worst/best part about the night is that I bowled a 27. Literally, a 27.
Not all was lost-or so I thought. I did meet one guy that I actually liked and who made me forget about NY Numb-nuts. This guy has a crazy ex who messaged me that I am a "hore" all day, I kept texting back that truly I am not, and also, that is not how you spell whore. But I looked past the bad spelling incident and tried to give him a try. Unfortunately, I was a bit spent from my dating whirlwind, which includes more guys than have been mentioned, and was maxed out aka a huge bucket of nerves and dreadfully in my head. Can he really like me? Is he gonna disappear? Does he have secret children? I was starting to become crazy too. At one point he was stressed and told me to "not take it personally". In my experience, when a guy tells you to not take something personally, it usually means trouble is ahead. Warning signs! Because the phrase "don't take it personally" makes me think: well then, how the hell am I supposed to take it?! Recently, this dude fell off for four or so days. I felt the Houdini coming on. I went on Tinder. I'll swipe some dudes to the left, that'll make me feel better. Plus, I should probably see what is out there considering I am about to never hear from this guy again. Well, don't you know that Don't Take It Personally is on Tinder again, how convenient! And of course, this is where I become Crazy Killah and feel completely rejected, and send out a string of insane text messages even though I am way better than the way I am acting. Finally, my inbox is flooded with comments about how I am being cruel and how we aren't compatible anyway. He is allergic to cats, afterall. Here is a serious question: is every guy allergic to cats?! Seriously! IS EVERY GUY ALLERGIC TO CATS?! Speaking of being a cat lady; yo, cats can be total dicks, like guys. Cheddar Cat has chewed up my blinds and my legs, but you know what he hasn't done? He has not told me he will call and then not called, and he has not disappeared (except for that one time where he went missing in the basement)!!!!!!!
When it boils down to it, I am not looking for someone to see EVERY SINGLE DAY or to buy me fancy dinners or to have constant heart-to-hearts with. I just would like to meet a guy who can handle calling or texting me back and who, if he ever wants to stop seeing me, WILL TELL ME. Instead, there are the Houdini's and the claims that "I really like you, but we are not compatible" aka you're telling me a bunch of crap, but thanks. Compatibility is a bunch of BS. Well, maybe it isn't, but it has become a lame excuse for "this is too hard right now, but here is a buzzword that will get you off my back".
What especially kills me, is that every experience that turns south, has me second guessing myself and acting in a way that is not me. This is something that the Killah needs to work on. I should be very resilient by now-having been accused of grand larceny, having bowled a 27, having had bits of my heart chipped off since grade 3 or so, but I pretty much just feel like crap after all this. Usually, this is the point where I will start "working on myself". There was a long while where I worked so hard on myself that I became intimidated by me---who the hell can handle dating this totally fit, totally smart, totally awesome chic?! Well, it appeared that no one could. But ya know what people, it's lonely at the top, and as the great and wise Frank would say: that's life.
And this is the portion of my life where I start listening to this song nonstop on repeat.
Once again, the eye doctors did not disappoint. Damn, I really love it there. This time I went to get some shiz removed from my face. Sort of like a skin tag, but with a fancy name that I never could pronounce, so we'll just refer to it as stuff. And no, this stuff was not like huge or gross or anything, just there, and so I figured maybe it shouldn't be. So, I'm sitting in this chair, they put a needle in my face. Not a fan. Not a fan. The needle is to insert the numbing gunk so that I don't feel the actual procedure. Guess what? I feel that damn needle in my face. The whole procedure was not actually that bad however. Every once in a while, I'd make one of my ugh sounds, and the nice doctor man asked me if I was in pain, and I'd say no, but why do they have to pass the tools in front of me? And then all of a sudden the tool of choice became some burning stick tool thing (as in to burn off the stuff). My "ugh" got really big then. "Are you okay?!" He's all concerned. "Ah, the smell. I just don't like the smell!" And this is when I started talking about how I like cheeseburgers because I guess the burning smell reminded me of cheeseburgers? God only knows. The nice doc man also really likes cheeseburgers though. He's okay with me calling up the office to give cheeseburger recs.
Also, he put a band-aid on my face and said I'd be reppin' the Nelly look. He agreed that Nelly didn't have the best stuff, but still, the band-aid makes the reference makes sense.
Then again, about Nelly not actually being good, "Shake Your Tail Feather" came on my 2000s Hip Hop Pandora station, and it really is kind of catchy.
Okay, so there is that small part of me who can see the "beauty" in photographing heart broken women wearing their ex-lovahs' shirts, but basically I just think this is a Terrible Idea!!! I mean, obviously you're depressed, do you really need everyone in the world to see this public pining?! Sort of terrible, and by sort of, I mean completely. Imagine the ex looking at this?! If anything, perhaps there should be photos of women burning these shirts?? Wouldn't that make more sense???
In other news, the eye doctors, I find, is an excellent confidence booster. I have been twice in the last two weeks. Since I'm on vacation, I'm basically always at a doctors of some sort, because I'm elderly, and besides eating dinner at 4 pm, what else is there to do? Anyway, the eye doctors. Great times! Well, minus the not being able to see for most of it due to the contacts being out. Anyhoo. Every time I'm at the eye doc's, I always warn them that I am indecisive and determining which picture looks better will most likely be extremely difficult for me, and annoying for them. Yet, every time I said "Ah, I'm not sure?" they responded with "Great! Good job!" In my head I'm thinking, okay, so I literally can't tell you if picture a or picture b looks better and I'm probably messing up this whole test, yet, I'm still doing great?! This is amazing! The best is when they asked me what my birthday is. "June 6th," I replied. I was confident in this answer, and they rewarded me, big time. "You're right! Awesome! It is June 6th!!" Seriously?! I will pay a $15 copay and get poked in the eye EVERY SINGLE DAY for the rest of my life to feel this supported in life. It's really a great feeling.
1. George Lucas museum is opening up in Chicago. For some reason, I keep thinking I'm reading that a George Lopez museum is opening up.
2. Raisins should not be so hard to find. I am relatively obsessed with them lately. The same stupid store down the street that does not sell lemon juice, also does not sell raisins.
3. My cat should spend more time killing bugs instead of looking at bugs. It's pathetic, really.
4. First pants, then your shoes. But what if you're not wearing pants?
5. The prophet I met the last week claimed that I should be feeling "lighter"...Do you think this lightness takes a few days to kick in? Not feeling all that light yet. If anything, I'm feeling heavier than usual....
Real life stories have been happening and need to be blogged about ASAP: Mermaid Parade, crafting, life stuff. Wait for it, wait for it! It's coming. I just need to organize the brain and tackle a to-do list first!
It seems I'm about to turn 80, not 30. I tried to go out last night, crash a bachelorette party, because I've heard that's the healthy thing to do (going out, not crashing bachelorette parties). Dude, the pregnant chick lasted longer than me.
I don't know what ya'll talk about with your parents, but my mom definitely turned to me the other day and said, "So, TI got into a fight with Floyd Mayweather, huh? Do you know what this fight is about?" Before I could answer, she went on, "I wouldn't mess with Floyd." Then lots of laughter. "It happened at a Fatburger! This is amazing! Oh my, they were throwing chairs!"
