In general, I try not to miss things. I try not to miss people when I'm away from them for a long time. I try not to miss towns I haven't been to in a while. I try not to miss doing things I used to do on a daily basis...
But sometimes I just can't help it.
This past weekend, I got to visit a lot of friends that I went to university with and being here has brought back a lot of really great memories and it makes me miss the town that we lived in a lot. I loved living in that small college town. I was never bored, rarely lonely. I was surrounded by people that thought and acted like me. How could you not miss that?
And when I'm back at home, away from all of the people that I love, I try not to miss being there. It's just too painful. It's too hard to miss that place and those people. I'm 100% a "glass half-full" kind of guy and so I really do try to see the great things about the city that I do live in. My best friend is there; my nephew is there; my job is there; I live for free there; my parents are there.
But sometimes, when it's really late at night and I'm sifting through the news feed on my facebook, and I see all the fun that my university friends are having without me, I can't help but wish that I was there too.
And moving back to my city was completely my own choice and my own fault and I don't regret it at all. Well, let me clarify that I don't regret the choice but there are certain consequences about that choice that I do regret. I regret giving up seeing some of my favorite people in the whole world everyday. I regret being in a town where I'm the normal one instead of a sort of social freakshow. I regret giving up school....which I should have just toughed it out and finished.
But these are my choices. And while I miss that town, especially those people, I have made these choices and I will focus on my silver lining: my best friend (which I sobbed over because I missed her so much when she was abroad in Spain for a year) lives in my city. My nephew (who is growing up faster than I can imagine) lives in my city. My family, my job, my childhood, it's all in that city. I live a great life there and I am grateful.
-K
October 31, 2010
October 27, 2010
Like it's my job
So for the past few months....well, that's not entirely accurate. I guess it's more accurate to say that my life has ALWAYS revolved around the internet. It's largely due to the fact that I am a part of Generation Y, Echo Boomers or Millenniums (whatever you want to call us, they're all accurate.) And the internet was something that was just starting to enter homes just as I was old enough to really understand what it was. In fact, I can clearly remember the first time I ever used the internet: to look up Princess Diana's death in 1997 (I was 10.)
And I remember ever since that day, the internet has been a big part of my life. It wasn't long after that when I discovered this nifty little community called LiveJournal. Now, I must remind you that this was back in the day when you had to get a code from someone who already had a LiveJournal to start your own. I received my code from the first person I ever told I was gay: my then best friend N. (But that's besides the point.)
Anyway, so I started to write in my LiveJournal as if that's what it actually was: a journal. This was also when I got my first realization that anything that's written on the internet is written in ink, not pencil. It doesn't just go away and can get you in loads of trouble. (See also: a few of my friends reading what I wrote about them and then never talking to me again.) Life on LiveJournal was short lived. Popularity quickly swung to a similar site called Xanga and then came the age of MySpace. And I'll admit, I had all of these sites but my MySpace was one of a very short life. I think I had it for a few weeks until I went to college, got my ".edu" e-mail address and was finally allowed onto Facebook.
Now, Facebook, like most people, has become a regularly visited site (in fact, it's one of my home pages.) And it's an integral part in connecting with people on a regular basis. But with the birth of Facebook, came the explosion of social networking. Suddenly, people could keep track of other people's every day lives. Some, many actually, have made careers out of this. And I think it was about two years ago that I dipped my big toe into the giant pool that is Social Networking.
I started making YouTube videos, posting about once a week. And then I started a Twitter account about 6 months after that. And about a year ago I began my dailybooth account and now I have not only this blog but also a venue where I sell t-shirts based on my YouTube account and a FourSquare account. I now tell people that I social network like it's my job and that I have a hard time unplugging. Because it's true!
While I might not hyperventilate because there's no wi-fi somewhere, I do feel a slight, but distinct, sense of panic when I realize that for whatever reason, I can't access the internet? It sounds like an addiction, but I promise you, it's not. It's more like taking a vacation at a higher climate: difficult at first, noticeable, and you know you'll get used to it but in the back of your mind, you really can't wait to get back to a normal altitude.
It's funny, with all of my social networking accounts and various ways to connect to absolute strangers all over the globe, I am still on the hunt for new and fun ways to make more connections to more people that I don't know. I can't explain it really......I'll just say that I'm comfortable at this climate and have no plans on taking a trip to the mountains.
-K
P.S. If you'd like some links to my social networking sites, start searching. I promised myself that this blog would remain anonymous and I plan to keep that promise. Kudos to you if you find me. You're probably a social networking freakshow like myself.
And I remember ever since that day, the internet has been a big part of my life. It wasn't long after that when I discovered this nifty little community called LiveJournal. Now, I must remind you that this was back in the day when you had to get a code from someone who already had a LiveJournal to start your own. I received my code from the first person I ever told I was gay: my then best friend N. (But that's besides the point.)
Anyway, so I started to write in my LiveJournal as if that's what it actually was: a journal. This was also when I got my first realization that anything that's written on the internet is written in ink, not pencil. It doesn't just go away and can get you in loads of trouble. (See also: a few of my friends reading what I wrote about them and then never talking to me again.) Life on LiveJournal was short lived. Popularity quickly swung to a similar site called Xanga and then came the age of MySpace. And I'll admit, I had all of these sites but my MySpace was one of a very short life. I think I had it for a few weeks until I went to college, got my ".edu" e-mail address and was finally allowed onto Facebook.
Now, Facebook, like most people, has become a regularly visited site (in fact, it's one of my home pages.) And it's an integral part in connecting with people on a regular basis. But with the birth of Facebook, came the explosion of social networking. Suddenly, people could keep track of other people's every day lives. Some, many actually, have made careers out of this. And I think it was about two years ago that I dipped my big toe into the giant pool that is Social Networking.
I started making YouTube videos, posting about once a week. And then I started a Twitter account about 6 months after that. And about a year ago I began my dailybooth account and now I have not only this blog but also a venue where I sell t-shirts based on my YouTube account and a FourSquare account. I now tell people that I social network like it's my job and that I have a hard time unplugging. Because it's true!
While I might not hyperventilate because there's no wi-fi somewhere, I do feel a slight, but distinct, sense of panic when I realize that for whatever reason, I can't access the internet? It sounds like an addiction, but I promise you, it's not. It's more like taking a vacation at a higher climate: difficult at first, noticeable, and you know you'll get used to it but in the back of your mind, you really can't wait to get back to a normal altitude.
It's funny, with all of my social networking accounts and various ways to connect to absolute strangers all over the globe, I am still on the hunt for new and fun ways to make more connections to more people that I don't know. I can't explain it really......I'll just say that I'm comfortable at this climate and have no plans on taking a trip to the mountains.
-K
P.S. If you'd like some links to my social networking sites, start searching. I promised myself that this blog would remain anonymous and I plan to keep that promise. Kudos to you if you find me. You're probably a social networking freakshow like myself.
October 26, 2010
I'm better at this than you
So I was thinking about Halloween and Halloween costumes and things and it got me thinking....
I'm a lot better at coming up with awesome Halloween costumes than you.
Well, actually, I don't know if I'm THAT good (no, I totally am.) And I say that because most of my costume ideas have something to do with sex or being sexy. For instance, R was talking about how he needed a costume idea for a party he was going to. He said that he wanted something clever. But then we got off on this tangent about this pair of jeans that makes his ass look really good and he says, "The only thing is that it's supposed to be 'destroyed' so it's got some paint splatter on it." and that gave me a genius idea!
"Why don't you go as a painter for Halloween? You could splatter some paint on an old shirt and rub some on your face and wear those jeans and carry around some brushes! Omg! Totes perf!" Then he said that he wanted it to be clever so I suggested a penis painter. Like....a painter that could only paint penises....
Alright maybe I'm pretty terrible at coming up with good Halloween costumes but you know what? I have a blog and you don't so I'm better.
-K
I'm a lot better at coming up with awesome Halloween costumes than you.
Well, actually, I don't know if I'm THAT good (no, I totally am.) And I say that because most of my costume ideas have something to do with sex or being sexy. For instance, R was talking about how he needed a costume idea for a party he was going to. He said that he wanted something clever. But then we got off on this tangent about this pair of jeans that makes his ass look really good and he says, "The only thing is that it's supposed to be 'destroyed' so it's got some paint splatter on it." and that gave me a genius idea!
"Why don't you go as a painter for Halloween? You could splatter some paint on an old shirt and rub some on your face and wear those jeans and carry around some brushes! Omg! Totes perf!" Then he said that he wanted it to be clever so I suggested a penis painter. Like....a painter that could only paint penises....
Alright maybe I'm pretty terrible at coming up with good Halloween costumes but you know what? I have a blog and you don't so I'm better.
-K
October 24, 2010
So close
It's hard for me to blog tonight...
Tonight I feel alone, used, unattractive (and sexy in a tragic way....if that makes sense.) I feel let down, rejected, disappointed and not unlike a whore.
There's this boy, let's call him R. And he lives what I would consider downtown. Which is a trek from me but not terrible (maybe half an hour) and I've been talking to him for a few days. At first it was mostly about sex. We knew right away that there was a physical attraction. And then I got to thinking that maybe this is a person that I should give a shot at a relationship with. So I tried to start conversations about other things: his interests, my interests, various things about ourselves to try to get to know him. And he seemed receptive to a point, but the conversation almost always came back to sex. And while I know that I went about this all wrong and should have put off the sex subject until I got to know this guy, I still can't help but feel a little used when I suddenly get the feeling that all he ever wanted out of me was sex.
I wish I could start over and get to know this guy before we talked about sex and let this develop normally. And now that I type that out, I can't help but thing "What is normal anyway? Has anything about me ever been normal? No. I've always done things differently and have always felt 100% different from everyone else my entire life so why should I start now?"
In any case, I have a "date" with this guy tomorrow and I'm certain we'll make awkward small talk until we have sex and I'm certain that after that, I'll slowly phase him out and just stop responding to his texts and phone calls like I do every other man that comes into my life because I am a whore. I meet someone, have sex with them in the first 24 hours of meeting them and then feel used when they don't want a relationship.
Let the vicious unhealthy cycle begin.
-K
Tonight I feel alone, used, unattractive (and sexy in a tragic way....if that makes sense.) I feel let down, rejected, disappointed and not unlike a whore.
There's this boy, let's call him R. And he lives what I would consider downtown. Which is a trek from me but not terrible (maybe half an hour) and I've been talking to him for a few days. At first it was mostly about sex. We knew right away that there was a physical attraction. And then I got to thinking that maybe this is a person that I should give a shot at a relationship with. So I tried to start conversations about other things: his interests, my interests, various things about ourselves to try to get to know him. And he seemed receptive to a point, but the conversation almost always came back to sex. And while I know that I went about this all wrong and should have put off the sex subject until I got to know this guy, I still can't help but feel a little used when I suddenly get the feeling that all he ever wanted out of me was sex.
I wish I could start over and get to know this guy before we talked about sex and let this develop normally. And now that I type that out, I can't help but thing "What is normal anyway? Has anything about me ever been normal? No. I've always done things differently and have always felt 100% different from everyone else my entire life so why should I start now?"
In any case, I have a "date" with this guy tomorrow and I'm certain we'll make awkward small talk until we have sex and I'm certain that after that, I'll slowly phase him out and just stop responding to his texts and phone calls like I do every other man that comes into my life because I am a whore. I meet someone, have sex with them in the first 24 hours of meeting them and then feel used when they don't want a relationship.
Let the vicious unhealthy cycle begin.
-K
October 23, 2010
Hair
For a long time now, I've taken risks with my hair. Changed it frequently, crazy colors, weird cuts. Some of them worked out and some of them were just ugly. But now that I'm 22 and looking for a real job (aka one that pays a salary and not just an hourly wage) I find myself stuck with what I like to call "boring hair."
And to be honest, it's not boring. It's actually pretty cute. But there's no fun color, nothing interesting about the cut. It's just kind of generic.
So I guess my question is: how do I still maintain my individuality with my hair but still look professional? Should I stick to natural tones but extremes of them (e.g. fire engine red and bleach blonde highlights?) Or should I play with the cut and shave something unique into my hair?
Or should I just accept defeat and stick with normal, professional hair?
Back in the day, I had long, beautiful hair. And it really was beautiful. I loved having long hair. It really did make me feel pretty. But eventually I grew tired of the maintenance and product and all of that and cut it all off. And after seeing old pictures of my hair, I'm really regretting cutting it...
Ah, well, as I always say: hair grows back. I'm not going to worry about how my hair is cut or anything like that. It'll grow out, it'll change color. It's just what my hair does. But the question is: where will it go next?
-K
October 21, 2010
Troglodytic
My city is for the lonely. I have yet to meet a person here that isn't looking for someone: a lover, a friend, an estranged family. Everyone here is searching. And I find myself also searching.
But with all of this searching, none of us seem to find contentment in each other. No one here seems to fit each other right. Like we're all the missing puzzle pieces.
I go through bouts of feeling lonely. The evening is the worst.
It's almost as if the city is an illusion and each of us are trapped in a world where everyone else seems to have found what they're looking for but we are doomed, trapped on our constant hunt for our heart's contentment.
I am lonely among a sea of lonely people. I don't mean to say that I am alone. I'm not. I have a best friend that lives here, another friend that doesn't live too far from me. And another friend of mine that I used to see often as well. But I only get to see my best friend for a maximum of 10 hours a week. (It sounds like a lot but sit down and calculate how many hours you spend with your significant other or your best friend and then compare.) My other friend lives downtown...and I don't have a car. And the friend that I used to see often, moved out of the country and 8 timezones away. My parents are asleep by the time I get home from work and they're at work by the time I wake up in the morning.
Sometimes the loneliness overwhelms me. I'm reminded of a similar time in my life, my freshman year of college. There had been a fight between my friends and I and the group estranged itself from me. I moved dorms and was forced to start all over. It was like changing schools. And it didn't help that when I moved dorms, I was moved into a double room, by myself. A blessing to most, but to someone who CRAVES human interaction, that room was a prison.
Then, I forced myself to find new friends and get out of my room to explore and grow. Here, there it's not so easy. This "dorm" is far too expansive for me to try to explore without a car (something I can't afford right now.) And so here I sit, alone in my room, alone in my bed, alone on the internet.
My city is for the lonely.
-K
But with all of this searching, none of us seem to find contentment in each other. No one here seems to fit each other right. Like we're all the missing puzzle pieces.
I go through bouts of feeling lonely. The evening is the worst.
It's almost as if the city is an illusion and each of us are trapped in a world where everyone else seems to have found what they're looking for but we are doomed, trapped on our constant hunt for our heart's contentment.
I am lonely among a sea of lonely people. I don't mean to say that I am alone. I'm not. I have a best friend that lives here, another friend that doesn't live too far from me. And another friend of mine that I used to see often as well. But I only get to see my best friend for a maximum of 10 hours a week. (It sounds like a lot but sit down and calculate how many hours you spend with your significant other or your best friend and then compare.) My other friend lives downtown...and I don't have a car. And the friend that I used to see often, moved out of the country and 8 timezones away. My parents are asleep by the time I get home from work and they're at work by the time I wake up in the morning.
Sometimes the loneliness overwhelms me. I'm reminded of a similar time in my life, my freshman year of college. There had been a fight between my friends and I and the group estranged itself from me. I moved dorms and was forced to start all over. It was like changing schools. And it didn't help that when I moved dorms, I was moved into a double room, by myself. A blessing to most, but to someone who CRAVES human interaction, that room was a prison.
Then, I forced myself to find new friends and get out of my room to explore and grow. Here, there it's not so easy. This "dorm" is far too expansive for me to try to explore without a car (something I can't afford right now.) And so here I sit, alone in my room, alone in my bed, alone on the internet.
My city is for the lonely.
-K
October 20, 2010
The games we play
One thing I'll never understand is the human compulsion to play mind games with the people that we're attracted to.
Currently, I am watching a group of people, two girls, two boys. One boy has said something offensive to one of the girls and now she has stood and threatened to walk home. (Apparently, she's very far from home.) But does she storm off in a huff? No, she meanders across the parking lot and then dances along the speedbumps, taking her sweet time to find her way home. Finally, the other girl says to the offensive boy "She wants you to go after her." So he stands and jogs over to her. And what do they do? They immediately start kissing. What was the point of that?! Why didn't the girl just admit that that the teasing she received from the boy was attractive and just kiss him? Why did the boy feel the need to tease her in the first place? Why didn't he just lean in and kiss her anyway? So childish. This isn't the playground. People's emotions aren't to be toyed with.
Who invented "playing hard to get" anyway and why? What purpose does it serve? Is the chase really worth it? Or are you so conceited to think that someone has to work for your love?
I don't understand why you should want someone to have to work for your heart. In my opinion, if you love someone, you should be only more than happy to relinquish your everything. If you love them, shouldn't you want to trust them with one of the most fragile things of the human psyche?
And I'll admit, I play games too. I'm coy and pseudo-shy. I make my men push and push to try to get to my real emotions. And why? I need to know they care. But the fucked up thing is that they're showing me that they care, just not in the way that I want them to. So I hide and I run and I play these games until I get what I want. Does anyone else see how childish that is?
And yet for many, it's an impulse. A vicious cycle that I am certain to be trapped in.
-K
Currently, I am watching a group of people, two girls, two boys. One boy has said something offensive to one of the girls and now she has stood and threatened to walk home. (Apparently, she's very far from home.) But does she storm off in a huff? No, she meanders across the parking lot and then dances along the speedbumps, taking her sweet time to find her way home. Finally, the other girl says to the offensive boy "She wants you to go after her." So he stands and jogs over to her. And what do they do? They immediately start kissing. What was the point of that?! Why didn't the girl just admit that that the teasing she received from the boy was attractive and just kiss him? Why did the boy feel the need to tease her in the first place? Why didn't he just lean in and kiss her anyway? So childish. This isn't the playground. People's emotions aren't to be toyed with.
Who invented "playing hard to get" anyway and why? What purpose does it serve? Is the chase really worth it? Or are you so conceited to think that someone has to work for your love?
I don't understand why you should want someone to have to work for your heart. In my opinion, if you love someone, you should be only more than happy to relinquish your everything. If you love them, shouldn't you want to trust them with one of the most fragile things of the human psyche?
And I'll admit, I play games too. I'm coy and pseudo-shy. I make my men push and push to try to get to my real emotions. And why? I need to know they care. But the fucked up thing is that they're showing me that they care, just not in the way that I want them to. So I hide and I run and I play these games until I get what I want. Does anyone else see how childish that is?
And yet for many, it's an impulse. A vicious cycle that I am certain to be trapped in.
-K
The Right Decision
Yesterday, I had a moment. (Okay, I have a lot of moments everyday but this one was notable.) But before I get to my moment, you'll need some back-story so put on your reading glasses and get comfortable.
I have this best friend, let's call her S, that I've known for a little over 5 years. Now, you should know that S is probably the most intelligent and grounded person I know. She has two degrees and makes a point to get her news from BBC; two things that greatly impress me considering I have half a degree and get my news from PerezHilton.com. So I go to her often for advice on how to sanely react to various things that occur in my life.
I even went to her with the idea to start this blog because she's been a blogger for a while and she blogged when she studied abroad and she's been talking about starting a new blog up (which is actually up and running now. no you will not get a link. Find it on your own.) But that's neither here nor there.The point of all this information is leading up to the following events...
We were making cherry cheesecakes (which turned out only okay) and S decided to start setting up her blog. I advertised the link to my blog on facebook and got a comment from another friend of mine, J. I met J when we were in college and we discovered that we were both studying to become high school English teachers. J, being a recent graduate, had just started a blog as well about being a new teacher. (Again, you're not getting the link. Find it on your own.) I was reading along all about her adventures and how much fun she's been having. And it got me thinking....did I make the right decision?
Was leaving college to focus on my writing a good life choice? Was it smart? Everyone I know is graduating with degrees while I'm stuck being a host for $9/hr at a restaurant, my writing going no where and I'm living with my parents. So I did what I always did, I went to S.
I asked her if I had made a good decision and she assured me that it was the right one because I wasn't happy when I was in school, in fact, I was miserable. But it appeared to be too late. I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I was freaking out. I felt so left behind, so stupid, so incompetent. What else could I do but cry?
S made me feel better by cracking some jokes. I laughed, but in truth, I was sobbing on the inside...
I spent the night at her house that night because it "just didn't make good business sense" (that's one of her adult-job phrases) to take me home that late when she had to drive by my house anyway to get to work the next day. But I didn't really sleep well. I kept waking up thinking about my decision to leave school. More than once, I left the bed completely to go stand in the living room and pace nervously. I'd have gone outside but the alarm was set and I didn't know how to turn it off. And even more frequently, I just sat on the edge of the bed and cried some more over my situation.
But after I finally drifted off to sleep and I woke up the next morning, I began a new day. I did my best to leave my worries in the day before and tried not to stress out about them. Stressing out about things like that never helped anything. All I can do is move forward. I've been applying for better jobs. I've been writing whenever I can.
I've made my decisions and now I must live with them. There are good things to come...they have to.
-K
I have this best friend, let's call her S, that I've known for a little over 5 years. Now, you should know that S is probably the most intelligent and grounded person I know. She has two degrees and makes a point to get her news from BBC; two things that greatly impress me considering I have half a degree and get my news from PerezHilton.com. So I go to her often for advice on how to sanely react to various things that occur in my life.
I even went to her with the idea to start this blog because she's been a blogger for a while and she blogged when she studied abroad and she's been talking about starting a new blog up (which is actually up and running now. no you will not get a link. Find it on your own.) But that's neither here nor there.The point of all this information is leading up to the following events...
We were making cherry cheesecakes (which turned out only okay) and S decided to start setting up her blog. I advertised the link to my blog on facebook and got a comment from another friend of mine, J. I met J when we were in college and we discovered that we were both studying to become high school English teachers. J, being a recent graduate, had just started a blog as well about being a new teacher. (Again, you're not getting the link. Find it on your own.) I was reading along all about her adventures and how much fun she's been having. And it got me thinking....did I make the right decision?
Was leaving college to focus on my writing a good life choice? Was it smart? Everyone I know is graduating with degrees while I'm stuck being a host for $9/hr at a restaurant, my writing going no where and I'm living with my parents. So I did what I always did, I went to S.
I asked her if I had made a good decision and she assured me that it was the right one because I wasn't happy when I was in school, in fact, I was miserable. But it appeared to be too late. I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I was freaking out. I felt so left behind, so stupid, so incompetent. What else could I do but cry?
S made me feel better by cracking some jokes. I laughed, but in truth, I was sobbing on the inside...
I spent the night at her house that night because it "just didn't make good business sense" (that's one of her adult-job phrases) to take me home that late when she had to drive by my house anyway to get to work the next day. But I didn't really sleep well. I kept waking up thinking about my decision to leave school. More than once, I left the bed completely to go stand in the living room and pace nervously. I'd have gone outside but the alarm was set and I didn't know how to turn it off. And even more frequently, I just sat on the edge of the bed and cried some more over my situation.
But after I finally drifted off to sleep and I woke up the next morning, I began a new day. I did my best to leave my worries in the day before and tried not to stress out about them. Stressing out about things like that never helped anything. All I can do is move forward. I've been applying for better jobs. I've been writing whenever I can.
I've made my decisions and now I must live with them. There are good things to come...they have to.
-K
October 18, 2010
Your non-pants make me vomit
I don't know how often I can say this...
LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS!!
They never were pants. They never will be pants. Leggings are NOT pants.
Now, I understand, from a style point of view, how leggings can be cute when worn under a skirt, or perhaps some shorts. But if you're just wearing a t-shirt and leggings, you should know that you're making me want to vomit all over you. And not just regular vomit; projectile, yellow and green with a little bit of blood mixed in kind of vomit.
I mean look...
Look how fat her thighs look. WHO WANTS THAT? No one. It looks like she's trying to smuggle out two Christmas hams from CostCo. Problem.
My rule with an outfit with leggings is this: if you can wear the outfit out in public WITHOUT leggings, then it's fine to wear the leggings. But dear readers, let's be quite honest with ourselves. It's time for a reality check...
This is what you think you look like in your leggings (or worse, jeggings...*vomits*)
LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS!!
They never were pants. They never will be pants. Leggings are NOT pants.
Now, I understand, from a style point of view, how leggings can be cute when worn under a skirt, or perhaps some shorts. But if you're just wearing a t-shirt and leggings, you should know that you're making me want to vomit all over you. And not just regular vomit; projectile, yellow and green with a little bit of blood mixed in kind of vomit.
I mean look...
Look how fat her thighs look. WHO WANTS THAT? No one. It looks like she's trying to smuggle out two Christmas hams from CostCo. Problem.
My rule with an outfit with leggings is this: if you can wear the outfit out in public WITHOUT leggings, then it's fine to wear the leggings. But dear readers, let's be quite honest with ourselves. It's time for a reality check...
This is what you think you look like in your leggings (or worse, jeggings...*vomits*)
This is what you actually look like....
Yup. That's what you actually look like. I don't care if you're 90 lbs or 390 lbs, this is what your ass looks like in leggings. Do you see why you need to cover up parts of your body when you wear leggings? Yeah. Glad you see the light.
So before you reach for that new pair of...*holds back vomit* jeggings, make sure you're also reaching for an extra long shirt and a belt, or a skirt or something because we're all tired of seeing your fat ass packed into those things tighter than a bratwurst.
-K
October 17, 2010
Everyone's got a question
When I go out in the world, I'm told that there is no question about my sexuality. As much as I'd like to think that I'm not THAT flamboyant, apparently, the way that I dress, speak and carry myself just screams, "HOMOSEXUAL!"
I don't have a problem with this.
With that being said, you have to imagine the types of questions I get from people that feel they know me well enough to ask me about some of the darkest points in my life.
"When did you know you were gay?"
"How did your parents react?"
"Was it difficult?"
"Did all of your friends stop talking to you?"
"When did you have your first boyfriend?"
"Did y'all have sex?"
"Are you the pitcher or the catcher?"
"So....who's the woman in the relationship?"
"Since you're both dudes, do you just, like, do it ALL THE TIME?"
I get that it's rare for a Texan to meet a gay man. Especially in such a Republican area like the one that I live in. And I get that there are things that people are curious about. I mean, I'll admit, the first time I came across a lesbian, I had questions too. The first of them being "So....you, like.....LIKE pussy?"
But what I don't get is people that I have only known for mere days wanting to know what it was like to come out to my, very Republican, very Catholic, parents. That was a hard time for me! Harder than anything you've ever experienced. And to be quite honest, there are very few people I should feel comfortable divulging the events of that night with. But because of perfect strangers' constant questioning, I've learned to live my life as an open book. I've never turned down a question, never danced around an answer. I let people ask me whatever they want and I give them as graphic an answer as I can. Some get weirded out and try to stop me but I don't. If they're going to ask about my personal life, they're going to hear every detail no matter how uncomfortable it makes them.
"When did you know you were gay?" - age 4. I wore a blanket that my grandmother crocheted for me as a skirt. I learned how to walk better in heels than your girlfriend and realized my ass will always look twice as good in her jeans.
"How did your parents react?" - Fine. They were uncomfortable at first but we worked through it and now they are among my biggest supporters. It's nice to have parents that love me, but I can understand that you don't know what that feels like.
"Was it difficult?" - YOU try telling your parents that, in their eyes, you were born a mortal sinner and that you're doomed to go to hell. Then tell me how difficult it was. Idiot. OF COURSE it was difficult. I'm a GAY TEXAN!
"Did all of your friends stop talking to you?" - Some. Not all. They were closed minded and unwilling to understand and accept. I didn't need them anyway, I had better friends waiting to accept me for who I am. Unlike all of your friends who would stop talking to you because you didn't wear the right pair of jeans to the mall last weekend.
"When did you have your first boyfriend?" - age 15. His name was Mark and there's a part of me that still loves him. Yes, I love him. Romantic love can exist outside a relationship between a man and a woman.
"Did y'all have sex?" - Yes. He took my virginity with his 6 inch penis that curved to the right. It fit nicely inside my ass.
"Are you the pitcher or the catcher?" - I like both. They both have some pleasure to them. Why? Wanna try it? ;)
"So....who's the woman in the relationship?" - Neither. If I wanted to date a woman, I'd date my best friend. But I don't want to date a woman. I want to date men; so I do. We're both men in the relationship. That's what's making you so uncomfortable right now.
"Since you're both dudes, do you just, like, do it ALL THE TIME?" - Yes. You can be jealous starting......now.
Alright, I answered those questions a little crudely. But I feel that the questions were just as crude as the answers. No one would EVER think to ask a heterosexual stranger about the details of their sex life because it's none of your business. But some feel that because I'm a type of person they've never met before, they have the right to ask me whatever it is they want. How would you feel if I were asking you these types of questions?
Well, I'm stepping off my soap box now. I just needed to get that off my chest. Everyone's got a question for me. It's exhausting not having any secrets.
-K
I don't have a problem with this.
With that being said, you have to imagine the types of questions I get from people that feel they know me well enough to ask me about some of the darkest points in my life.
"When did you know you were gay?"
"How did your parents react?"
"Was it difficult?"
"Did all of your friends stop talking to you?"
"When did you have your first boyfriend?"
"Did y'all have sex?"
"Are you the pitcher or the catcher?"
"So....who's the woman in the relationship?"
"Since you're both dudes, do you just, like, do it ALL THE TIME?"
I get that it's rare for a Texan to meet a gay man. Especially in such a Republican area like the one that I live in. And I get that there are things that people are curious about. I mean, I'll admit, the first time I came across a lesbian, I had questions too. The first of them being "So....you, like.....LIKE pussy?"
But what I don't get is people that I have only known for mere days wanting to know what it was like to come out to my, very Republican, very Catholic, parents. That was a hard time for me! Harder than anything you've ever experienced. And to be quite honest, there are very few people I should feel comfortable divulging the events of that night with. But because of perfect strangers' constant questioning, I've learned to live my life as an open book. I've never turned down a question, never danced around an answer. I let people ask me whatever they want and I give them as graphic an answer as I can. Some get weirded out and try to stop me but I don't. If they're going to ask about my personal life, they're going to hear every detail no matter how uncomfortable it makes them.
"When did you know you were gay?" - age 4. I wore a blanket that my grandmother crocheted for me as a skirt. I learned how to walk better in heels than your girlfriend and realized my ass will always look twice as good in her jeans.
"How did your parents react?" - Fine. They were uncomfortable at first but we worked through it and now they are among my biggest supporters. It's nice to have parents that love me, but I can understand that you don't know what that feels like.
"Was it difficult?" - YOU try telling your parents that, in their eyes, you were born a mortal sinner and that you're doomed to go to hell. Then tell me how difficult it was. Idiot. OF COURSE it was difficult. I'm a GAY TEXAN!
"Did all of your friends stop talking to you?" - Some. Not all. They were closed minded and unwilling to understand and accept. I didn't need them anyway, I had better friends waiting to accept me for who I am. Unlike all of your friends who would stop talking to you because you didn't wear the right pair of jeans to the mall last weekend.
"When did you have your first boyfriend?" - age 15. His name was Mark and there's a part of me that still loves him. Yes, I love him. Romantic love can exist outside a relationship between a man and a woman.
"Did y'all have sex?" - Yes. He took my virginity with his 6 inch penis that curved to the right. It fit nicely inside my ass.
"Are you the pitcher or the catcher?" - I like both. They both have some pleasure to them. Why? Wanna try it? ;)
"So....who's the woman in the relationship?" - Neither. If I wanted to date a woman, I'd date my best friend. But I don't want to date a woman. I want to date men; so I do. We're both men in the relationship. That's what's making you so uncomfortable right now.
"Since you're both dudes, do you just, like, do it ALL THE TIME?" - Yes. You can be jealous starting......now.
Alright, I answered those questions a little crudely. But I feel that the questions were just as crude as the answers. No one would EVER think to ask a heterosexual stranger about the details of their sex life because it's none of your business. But some feel that because I'm a type of person they've never met before, they have the right to ask me whatever it is they want. How would you feel if I were asking you these types of questions?
Well, I'm stepping off my soap box now. I just needed to get that off my chest. Everyone's got a question for me. It's exhausting not having any secrets.
-K
The start of all things
Let me begin by saying that I am from Texas but I am in no way stereotypically Texan. While Texas will always be my home and I will never love a state like I love Texas, I am far from anything you can expect a Texan to be.
Iwant....need to live in a big city.
I do not ride horses on a regular basis.
I do not like country music.
I do not wear boots or 10 gallon hats.
I have only seen a cow three times in my life and have yet to touch, much less milk, one.
I am liberal.
I am Pro-Choice.
I am an advocate of Equal Rights.
I voted for President Barack Obama.
And I am a homosexual.
Never in my life have I felt that I fit in here. I've always imagined a world outside of this state. I would see movies and television shows depicting fabulous gay men living lavish lifestyles and I would think to myself, "Self," because I always reference myself when thinking to him. I'd think, "Self, one day, that will be you out there. Dressed in only the finest clothes and being driven around like Jackie O. Someone important. Someone everyone wants to be around. Someone....fabulous."
Cut to 15 years later; I'm 22 and still living in Texas (in my parents house, no less) Not once have I moved from this state. Not for college, not for love, not even just to escape. And like I said before, I don't hate it here. I really don't. Nothing beats the wide the open plains, the rolling hills, the best State Fair in all of the United States, and, of course, the Livestock Show and Rodeo (even though I've never been. I don't do well with the smell of manure.) But honestly? Something doesn't feel quite right here. Maybe it's the lack of similar (homosexual) people. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the weird stares I get when I go into my favorite nail salon for a mani-pedi with my bestie while I'm sipping a latte and flipping through the most recent issue of vogue. I don't really know. But as much as things don't feel right here, something keeps bringing me back home.
Now, I must warn you, readers, that I never hold back. I will talk about everything here: sex, drugs, alcohol, men, fashion, jobs, family, friends, politics, religion....everything. But I am more than a homosexual. I am a writer, an uncle, an avid reader of classic books, a social networker, a youtuber, an employee. But the thing that will always outshine the rest: homosexual. So with that being said, I will tell you I have never held back a word that has come into my mind and I am not about to start now. Some of this may make you feel uncomfortable and that's okay. Life is about being uncomfortable sometimes; welcome to life, y'all, it's time to get uncomfortable.
-K
I
I do not ride horses on a regular basis.
I do not like country music.
I do not wear boots or 10 gallon hats.
I have only seen a cow three times in my life and have yet to touch, much less milk, one.
I am liberal.
I am Pro-Choice.
I am an advocate of Equal Rights.
I voted for President Barack Obama.
And I am a homosexual.
Never in my life have I felt that I fit in here. I've always imagined a world outside of this state. I would see movies and television shows depicting fabulous gay men living lavish lifestyles and I would think to myself, "Self," because I always reference myself when thinking to him. I'd think, "Self, one day, that will be you out there. Dressed in only the finest clothes and being driven around like Jackie O. Someone important. Someone everyone wants to be around. Someone....fabulous."
Cut to 15 years later; I'm 22 and still living in Texas (in my parents house, no less) Not once have I moved from this state. Not for college, not for love, not even just to escape. And like I said before, I don't hate it here. I really don't. Nothing beats the wide the open plains, the rolling hills, the best State Fair in all of the United States, and, of course, the Livestock Show and Rodeo (even though I've never been. I don't do well with the smell of manure.) But honestly? Something doesn't feel quite right here. Maybe it's the lack of similar (homosexual) people. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the weird stares I get when I go into my favorite nail salon for a mani-pedi with my bestie while I'm sipping a latte and flipping through the most recent issue of vogue. I don't really know. But as much as things don't feel right here, something keeps bringing me back home.
Now, I must warn you, readers, that I never hold back. I will talk about everything here: sex, drugs, alcohol, men, fashion, jobs, family, friends, politics, religion....everything. But I am more than a homosexual. I am a writer, an uncle, an avid reader of classic books, a social networker, a youtuber, an employee. But the thing that will always outshine the rest: homosexual. So with that being said, I will tell you I have never held back a word that has come into my mind and I am not about to start now. Some of this may make you feel uncomfortable and that's okay. Life is about being uncomfortable sometimes; welcome to life, y'all, it's time to get uncomfortable.
-K
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