Boys boys boys. How much do they suck.
I mean that in the most loving way possible, but still, if you're a guy and you're reading this, you suck in one way or another. :)
Sure, girls are bitchy, bipolar, caddy, mean, spoiled and snotty. But boys are rude, gross, stupid (sometimes about somethings), aggressive, frustrating, and infuriating. So what? Each gender has it's major downsides. But to (almost) every downside, there's an upside.
Girls can be sweet, innocent, caring, kind, gentle and fun. Guys can be trusting, protective, calming, well-intended, honest, and romantic. And yes, guys, you can be all of those things while still being masculine. Just because you're a romantic person doesn't mean you're gay. In fact, it means pretty much exactly the opposite. You happen to like a girl so much that you would go to great lengths to impress her. So why do people take you as a gay man if you give your girl roses and actually enjoy doing it? I don't get it.
But, there's very very very few open romantics out there. They're all afraid to admit they like being mushy. You're not a true romantic if you don't want to prove it.
So c'mon, show me that you like me. Show me you want me, make me feel loved. I'm not speaking as me to one guy, I'm speaking for every girl out there who just wants him to notice how hard she's trying, and how badly he's failing at noticing.
So boys, that's why you suck. I don't hold it against you, I know it's in your nature to be the way you are. But you can also be true to yourself, and let it show to her, and I know you know who I'm talking about. Get out there and MAKE her see you don't suck. MAKE her see that you do notice her, you do want her around.
Then maybe, boys, you won't suck so much.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
(0 unread) Yahoo! Mail, tmdowding
I felt him drape his arm over my shoulders, laughing from his belly like santa claus. I smiled, both internally and externally, because I enjoyed his touch way more than I should. He was forbidden to me, supposedly out of my league, but I couldn't keep myself away. He'd tempt me back into his arms with sweet words, knowing my boundaries between awkward and cute. But I knew this couldn't last. I was leaving, he was staying. He was 21, I was 18. He was perfect, I was... broken. I didn't deserve him, but he wanted me.
When he tried tempting me into staying out later with him, all he had to do was look at me and I would agree. No one could resist his steely blueish grey eyes that sparkled like icicles hanging off of a steel roof on sunny winter day. They were beautiful. So beautiful. His hair was a tangled mess, consisting of brown, red and maybe a little black, reminding me too much of my own hair color. My hands were cold, but his were warm, and always willing to hold my icy ones in an attempt to warm them up. I let it go that far, I let him worm his way into my heart just enough to leave a hole big enough to hurt when he was gone.
Did I love him? I didn't know, and I still don't. I think I did, or at least I like to tell myself I did. Did he love me? He never said, but I don't know. I like to tell myself he did, or maybe still does.
I didn't understand my infatuation with him. Maybe it was because even though he could, he never drank around me. Maybe it was because he wouldn't smoke ever. Maybe it was just his musky scent, a scent that followed me everywhere I went. Maybe it was his voice, or his eyes. It could be all of those things and more, but I just didn't know. I told myself I loved everything about him, maybe loved him too much. I told myself I wasn't going to get close to anyone before I left, but I had epically failed at that. He'd tried too hard to get me to let him into my world, and I couldn't resist that degree of love and attention.
So, thus, he came in. And he stayed. And he's still there, to this day.
When he tried tempting me into staying out later with him, all he had to do was look at me and I would agree. No one could resist his steely blueish grey eyes that sparkled like icicles hanging off of a steel roof on sunny winter day. They were beautiful. So beautiful. His hair was a tangled mess, consisting of brown, red and maybe a little black, reminding me too much of my own hair color. My hands were cold, but his were warm, and always willing to hold my icy ones in an attempt to warm them up. I let it go that far, I let him worm his way into my heart just enough to leave a hole big enough to hurt when he was gone.
Did I love him? I didn't know, and I still don't. I think I did, or at least I like to tell myself I did. Did he love me? He never said, but I don't know. I like to tell myself he did, or maybe still does.
I didn't understand my infatuation with him. Maybe it was because even though he could, he never drank around me. Maybe it was because he wouldn't smoke ever. Maybe it was just his musky scent, a scent that followed me everywhere I went. Maybe it was his voice, or his eyes. It could be all of those things and more, but I just didn't know. I told myself I loved everything about him, maybe loved him too much. I told myself I wasn't going to get close to anyone before I left, but I had epically failed at that. He'd tried too hard to get me to let him into my world, and I couldn't resist that degree of love and attention.
So, thus, he came in. And he stayed. And he's still there, to this day.
Back On My Feet Again
So I talked on the phone with my brother a few hours ago, and I told him all about how I felt like I'd lost that spark, the inspiration I used to have for writing. He told me just to write. Just write about what happens to pop into my head. So I am.
I love my brother. He's been there my entire life, and he's always been a source of inspiration and someone I look up to. He's like my built-in best friend, one that I don't have to try to be friends with, because it just happens. He was always there every night when I needed a hug or words of comfort, he was always there to tell me I was being stupid, or that yes, you look great.
But now he's not. He's not just down the hallway, he's not two doors away. I can't just barge into his room at three in the morning when a boy I fell in love with tells me he just doesn't feel the same way. I can't cry on his shoulder when one of my so called "friends" calls me a whore. He's 12 hours, four states, a very large lake, and a time zone away from me. I can't cross over that huge gap in a span of thirty seconds just for a hug and a twenty minute talk about life and how much it sucks. And now is when I need it the most. Now is when my life is sucking more than usual, when I need that comforting pair of skinny, yet muscular, arms to curl themselves around me in an embrace only family can give. Now, more than ever, I need my big brother to tell me yeah, it's going to be okay. Keep your chin up, kid.
I want to cry right now, writing this. But I can't bring myself to shed tears that I've been holding in for a solid month. I can't cry in front of these people, they don't understand. I can't let this composure I've worked so hard to achieve crumble in one small instant, even though my heart so badly wants to just scream out how much I hate the world at the moment. I miss all the nights we shared together, sitting on our roof at night, watching the crystal clear summer sky fill itself with tiny, sparkling stars. I miss the times we watched stupid youtube videos and laughed our heads off because we were so loopy from sleep deprivation. I miss his smell, like soap and axe, and hell, I miss his music. I miss playing guitar together, or playing piano while he strums some chords along with me. I miss sitting in his little red prelude with Nirvana and RHCP and Shinedown blasting so loud the windows shake and my teeth rattle in my seat. I miss sitting in the back of the car with him, whispering about things we don't want our parents to hear.
I haven't missed him this much since I watched him stand on the curb in front of his freshmen dorm at Iowa State and wave goodbye to us two years ago. I remember turning around completely in my seat and waving to him until we turned the corner and he vanished from my view. I remember every time he came home I would run out to the garage and jump into his arms screaming "You're home! You're home!"
Finally. Here come the tears. Funny how remembering the times he came home finally pushed me over the edge. I think I know why though. It's because I want to be back in those times, back when seeing him standing in the garage, black duffel bag in one hand, guitar in the other, was always the happiest memory I had. Nothing made me smile for longer than when I walked by his door and knew behind that door, my best friend was back, living and breathing like the old days. I could go into my room knowing that whenever I wanted to, I could just sneak into his room and start telling him stories about my life, including all the stupid little details, just because I wanted him to know EVERYTHING. There isn't a thing about me that my brother doesn't know. I would tell him about hanging out with my friends, and school, teachers, just about anything you could think of.
But then, when he had to go back, my heart would break again, shatter into tiny little pieces. I never wanted to see him leave me again. The more I thought about it, the realization finally came to me that we would never again be living together as often as we once had. Unless someday I moved in with him or vice versa (which I doubt would happen), we would never be able to continue to sneak into each other's rooms late at night, or sit on the roof and watch the stars in complete silence.
People say when you find your soul mate, there isn't a person in the world you love more. I'd love to argue. There isn't anyone I love more than my brother. Even my parents come in second to him. I think when people say you love your soul mate the most, they're really saying you love the person who you know absolutely everything about and they know everything about you the most. That's my brother for me, and I want to keep it that way as long as I live.
You sometimes hear those stories about people who hate their siblings. That will NEVER be Jessie and I. You don't know how proud it makes me to call him my brother, my kin, my best friend. There may be people who come almost as close to my heart as he does, but he's still the only one who's been there, and the only one who has a permanent engraved marker soldered to my heart.
I love my brother. He's been there my entire life, and he's always been a source of inspiration and someone I look up to. He's like my built-in best friend, one that I don't have to try to be friends with, because it just happens. He was always there every night when I needed a hug or words of comfort, he was always there to tell me I was being stupid, or that yes, you look great.
But now he's not. He's not just down the hallway, he's not two doors away. I can't just barge into his room at three in the morning when a boy I fell in love with tells me he just doesn't feel the same way. I can't cry on his shoulder when one of my so called "friends" calls me a whore. He's 12 hours, four states, a very large lake, and a time zone away from me. I can't cross over that huge gap in a span of thirty seconds just for a hug and a twenty minute talk about life and how much it sucks. And now is when I need it the most. Now is when my life is sucking more than usual, when I need that comforting pair of skinny, yet muscular, arms to curl themselves around me in an embrace only family can give. Now, more than ever, I need my big brother to tell me yeah, it's going to be okay. Keep your chin up, kid.
I want to cry right now, writing this. But I can't bring myself to shed tears that I've been holding in for a solid month. I can't cry in front of these people, they don't understand. I can't let this composure I've worked so hard to achieve crumble in one small instant, even though my heart so badly wants to just scream out how much I hate the world at the moment. I miss all the nights we shared together, sitting on our roof at night, watching the crystal clear summer sky fill itself with tiny, sparkling stars. I miss the times we watched stupid youtube videos and laughed our heads off because we were so loopy from sleep deprivation. I miss his smell, like soap and axe, and hell, I miss his music. I miss playing guitar together, or playing piano while he strums some chords along with me. I miss sitting in his little red prelude with Nirvana and RHCP and Shinedown blasting so loud the windows shake and my teeth rattle in my seat. I miss sitting in the back of the car with him, whispering about things we don't want our parents to hear.
I haven't missed him this much since I watched him stand on the curb in front of his freshmen dorm at Iowa State and wave goodbye to us two years ago. I remember turning around completely in my seat and waving to him until we turned the corner and he vanished from my view. I remember every time he came home I would run out to the garage and jump into his arms screaming "You're home! You're home!"
Finally. Here come the tears. Funny how remembering the times he came home finally pushed me over the edge. I think I know why though. It's because I want to be back in those times, back when seeing him standing in the garage, black duffel bag in one hand, guitar in the other, was always the happiest memory I had. Nothing made me smile for longer than when I walked by his door and knew behind that door, my best friend was back, living and breathing like the old days. I could go into my room knowing that whenever I wanted to, I could just sneak into his room and start telling him stories about my life, including all the stupid little details, just because I wanted him to know EVERYTHING. There isn't a thing about me that my brother doesn't know. I would tell him about hanging out with my friends, and school, teachers, just about anything you could think of.
But then, when he had to go back, my heart would break again, shatter into tiny little pieces. I never wanted to see him leave me again. The more I thought about it, the realization finally came to me that we would never again be living together as often as we once had. Unless someday I moved in with him or vice versa (which I doubt would happen), we would never be able to continue to sneak into each other's rooms late at night, or sit on the roof and watch the stars in complete silence.
People say when you find your soul mate, there isn't a person in the world you love more. I'd love to argue. There isn't anyone I love more than my brother. Even my parents come in second to him. I think when people say you love your soul mate the most, they're really saying you love the person who you know absolutely everything about and they know everything about you the most. That's my brother for me, and I want to keep it that way as long as I live.
You sometimes hear those stories about people who hate their siblings. That will NEVER be Jessie and I. You don't know how proud it makes me to call him my brother, my kin, my best friend. There may be people who come almost as close to my heart as he does, but he's still the only one who's been there, and the only one who has a permanent engraved marker soldered to my heart.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Wishing
Wishing.
What a wistful word. The word itself sounds like a wish. But there are so many things that go along with wishing. Want, hurt, tears, wonder, confusion.... and the list goes on and on.....
I used to wish for petty, material things. But now my wishes have become more... centered. I wish I could follow the path I've set out for myself, I wish people here would understand me, I wish I could go home, I wish rap was never invented.
But wishes don't come true all on their own. There's some degree of your own personal will that has to go into wishing. You have to put some effort into it, or fate won't put any effort out.
I wish I could see my destiny, I wish I was smarter, more determined, more focused. I wish I didn't have ADD. I wish I wasn't so weird. Then maybe I would be accepted in this cruel world that shuns anyone who's different then the norm.
But seriously, who makes up this "norm" we swarm around? Whoever said it was beautiful for women to be so skinny that you can see their bones? Whoever said it was handsome if a man had muscles on his arms that were bigger than his head?
No one's like that. We may be close, or see pictures in magazines, but it's all lies. Girls wish they were more attractive. Oh quit the shit, girls. You're beautiful the way you are, and any guy who says you're ugly is a sick, twisted, sexist pig.
But just one voice, just one person wishing isn't going to change the world. I'm not that much of a leader. I'm more of a follower, but I will step up if the need is there, not that anybody ever wants me in that position. Each time I've stepped up to the leadership plate, I was shot down by people who thought they were better than me, who thought they knew what they were talking about better than I did. Their words still haunt me to this day.
So I wish this : for my world to right itself. I wish I could be someone who's incredibly content with their life. I don't wish for everything to be perfect, because that's just boring. I wish for everything to make sense, and right now, it doesn't.
What a wistful word. The word itself sounds like a wish. But there are so many things that go along with wishing. Want, hurt, tears, wonder, confusion.... and the list goes on and on.....
I used to wish for petty, material things. But now my wishes have become more... centered. I wish I could follow the path I've set out for myself, I wish people here would understand me, I wish I could go home, I wish rap was never invented.
But wishes don't come true all on their own. There's some degree of your own personal will that has to go into wishing. You have to put some effort into it, or fate won't put any effort out.
I wish I could see my destiny, I wish I was smarter, more determined, more focused. I wish I didn't have ADD. I wish I wasn't so weird. Then maybe I would be accepted in this cruel world that shuns anyone who's different then the norm.
But seriously, who makes up this "norm" we swarm around? Whoever said it was beautiful for women to be so skinny that you can see their bones? Whoever said it was handsome if a man had muscles on his arms that were bigger than his head?
No one's like that. We may be close, or see pictures in magazines, but it's all lies. Girls wish they were more attractive. Oh quit the shit, girls. You're beautiful the way you are, and any guy who says you're ugly is a sick, twisted, sexist pig.
But just one voice, just one person wishing isn't going to change the world. I'm not that much of a leader. I'm more of a follower, but I will step up if the need is there, not that anybody ever wants me in that position. Each time I've stepped up to the leadership plate, I was shot down by people who thought they were better than me, who thought they knew what they were talking about better than I did. Their words still haunt me to this day.
So I wish this : for my world to right itself. I wish I could be someone who's incredibly content with their life. I don't wish for everything to be perfect, because that's just boring. I wish for everything to make sense, and right now, it doesn't.
inspirations....
when we sat beneath the eiffel tower
my head was in your hands
i told you i didnt want you to go
you were the one who helped me stand
you put your hand beneath my chin
and looked me in the eye
you said keep your head up kid
i'll be by your side.
dont worry kid.
i'll be there
like your guardian angel
i'll fly you anywhere
i'd go to the ends of the world
just to keep you safe
and secretly i hope in my heart
you'll stay with me always.
when we sat beneath the apple tree
in the grass in my front yard
you reached up and picked the fruit
and placed it in my hands
take this, you said to me,
it's my little gift to you
i took it from you eagerly
and quietly said, thank you
my head was in your hands
i told you i didnt want you to go
you were the one who helped me stand
you put your hand beneath my chin
and looked me in the eye
you said keep your head up kid
i'll be by your side.
dont worry kid.
i'll be there
like your guardian angel
i'll fly you anywhere
i'd go to the ends of the world
just to keep you safe
and secretly i hope in my heart
you'll stay with me always.
when we sat beneath the apple tree
in the grass in my front yard
you reached up and picked the fruit
and placed it in my hands
take this, you said to me,
it's my little gift to you
i took it from you eagerly
and quietly said, thank you
dont worry kid.
i'll be there
like your guardian angel
i'll fly you anywhere
i'd go to the ends of the world
just to keep you safe
and secretly i hope in my heart
you'll stay with me always.
and as the years rolled by i watched as we grew old
we smiled and laughed as if the world had passed
and we had never known.
the trees turned from red to green faster than we could see
we smiled and laughed as if we'd painted those leaves
with our own two hands....
when i sat beside your bed
your hand was placed in mine
your breathing tubes surrounded you
in a cold plastic cocoon.
you opened your eyes and smiled at me
with warmth i'd never seen
the last few words your breath could hold
were the ones dearest to me.
dont worry kid.
i'll be there
like your guardian angel
i'll fly you anywhere
i'd go to the ends of the world
just to keep you safe
and secretly i hope in my heart
you'll stay with me always.
dont worry kid
i'll be just fine.
up in heaven....
see you soon.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Sweet Dreams in Michigan (50th post!!)
say goodnight
close your eyes
and just think of your favorite song
hum the tune
smile along
and tap your finger to the beat
And dream the dreams that are so sweet
think of all that you believe,
and make those dreams come true.
And dream the dream that has no end
think of every smile you've had
and wish this night would never end
so dearest, sweet dreams.
close your eyes
and just think of your favorite song
hum the tune
smile along
and tap your finger to the beat
And dream the dreams that are so sweet
think of all that you believe,
and make those dreams come true.
And dream the dream that has no end
think of every smile you've had
and wish this night would never end
so dearest, sweet dreams.
Gah. I can't think.
I want to write SO badly right now. But I just can't.
Lately I've been so uninspired. I have no close friends to inspire me, no family, no dogs, nada. All that which was my collective muse for writing, all that made me passionate, is back home. I have nothing here that makes me want to write.
It's driving me nuts, this inability to write. I want so badly to be deep, to create something that means something to me. But I just.... CAN'T.
I blame it partially on myself.... For not reaching out and trying to find inspiration in different things. But I partially blame it on everything and everyone around me right now. They're just so... uninspiring. I mean, that's not totally their fault, but in a way it is their fault too.
I realize now I don't like change. I like what I know, what I've known for so long. I've tried to cope with this change, and it's driving me to be someone I'm not. I can feel myself changing, becoming a different person. That's NOT what I want. I like the old me. But I can't be the old me around here.
Lately I've been so uninspired. I have no close friends to inspire me, no family, no dogs, nada. All that which was my collective muse for writing, all that made me passionate, is back home. I have nothing here that makes me want to write.
It's driving me nuts, this inability to write. I want so badly to be deep, to create something that means something to me. But I just.... CAN'T.
I blame it partially on myself.... For not reaching out and trying to find inspiration in different things. But I partially blame it on everything and everyone around me right now. They're just so... uninspiring. I mean, that's not totally their fault, but in a way it is their fault too.
I realize now I don't like change. I like what I know, what I've known for so long. I've tried to cope with this change, and it's driving me to be someone I'm not. I can feel myself changing, becoming a different person. That's NOT what I want. I like the old me. But I can't be the old me around here.
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