I received this sleazy little missive in my inbox at an unnamed dating website... Wow, there's a lot of winners out there!
Just horrifying, really...
None could whore you I am sure all men love you equally. A Magdellena for sure. You are so lovely I would write a dozen poems just to meet you. That is my proposal. Endure my words twelve times and my heart will be thine. Love me or I'll love you, maybe we can get the synchronicity going and fall for each other. You will fall, deeply and I will catch you completely.
messenger addresses
Yahoo: jestingsorrow@rocketmail.com
AIM: jestingsorrow
Love ya
Come With Me
Come with me woman
I will fill you up with my love
The sea currents in your cave
Enshroud me as no woman has
Take me inside of you
Pull me in your currents
Release me and I will come again
Always coming to you, for you
If you wash my feet with your hair
I will wash your body with my locks
Sanctifying my desire with firm cock
Wetting your oceans and sea with my care
Come for me or I’ll come for you
Push your spike into my heart and in turn screw.
'Jesting sorrow' weirdo is the 3rd guy so far this year to write me a poem. Although, I have to say that this poem wins hands down for being the most pornographic. And the least appealing. ICK!!!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
High and Dry
I haven't been writing here much lately. There are many reasons behind this. Suffice to say that I've decided to stop playing trivial games with men and fucking around. That is to say that I must be earnest with guys - not flippant and wanton, I must be mature and respect-worthy, not crazy and slutty.
Sigh...
All this seriousness and integrity has left me with little to report.
Also, I am not going to have sex anymore. Not never-ever. But I'm abstaining for a while. I've realized that its been causing me a lot of trouble (DUH!!!), taking up too much of my energy and causing me to develop inexplicable attachments to men who are blatantly not right for me.
So yeah, I'm taking the high road. Let's see where it gets me.
So far things are a little dull...
Sigh...
All this seriousness and integrity has left me with little to report.
Also, I am not going to have sex anymore. Not never-ever. But I'm abstaining for a while. I've realized that its been causing me a lot of trouble (DUH!!!), taking up too much of my energy and causing me to develop inexplicable attachments to men who are blatantly not right for me.
So yeah, I'm taking the high road. Let's see where it gets me.
So far things are a little dull...
Monday, February 9, 2009
Who were you in a past life?!
Click on the 'Who were you...' link above the picture.
I stumbled upon this while looking up some Buddhism teachings online. I don't even know that I believe in reincarnation, still its intriguing. I did one with my birthday and one with a friend's (OK, exboyfriend's!) birthday. Creepily enough, the descriptions seemed plausible for both of us.
Maybe the better question to ask might be - what kind of world do we live in that we can look up our supposed past lives online?!
Obviously, to be taken with more than a grain of salt...
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
The French Lit Major
Last Saturday I was at a bar with some coworkers. One of my gay coworkers is always daring me to talk to cute guys. So when a young, good looking, muscular guy was standing next to me at the bar he interrupted our conversation (during which I was firmly stating, "At least YOU'LL be getting laid tonight... I know I won't be...")to demand that the guy sleep with me. Not missing a cue the guy introduced himself to me. Turns out he's in a PhD program at Stanford studying French Literature. Needless to say, I was impressed and intrigued. I even managed to score some points with him by enthusing about my love for existentialist writers such as Sartre and Camus. So when he invited me outside for a smoke I had reason to believe we might be having an interesting conversation. Well, after several minutes of small talk during which he told me he was 25 (and guessed my age to be 24 - serious beer goggles!) he lurched toward me and said, "Let's make out!".
I backed away.
He approached again, "Come on, let's make out!"
He was cute but this was not what I'd had in mind. "Uhhhhh... I'm not really in the mood right now. How about another time?"
To which he replied, "Well I'm only in town visiting my friend for tonight so there won't be another chance."
Hmmmmm... The great 'Its Now or Never' argument from men. Gotta love that one! Nothing like the prospect of being used for one night of instantaneously gratifying casual sex (only to be dissed the next day) to light a fire under a woman. Should I be jumping at this chance?!
I politely excused myself and went back inside to attend to my beer.
This guy did score some points though...
When introduced to my coworkers he asked why two of them were dressed in suits. They told him they had just come from a Mad Men party.
"What's Mad Men?" he asked.
They were shocked, "Its a TV show, you don't know Mad Men?!"
"No." He replied. "I don't watch TV. TV is bourgeois."
HA!!! I loved it. You should have seen their faces...
I backed away.
He approached again, "Come on, let's make out!"
He was cute but this was not what I'd had in mind. "Uhhhhh... I'm not really in the mood right now. How about another time?"
To which he replied, "Well I'm only in town visiting my friend for tonight so there won't be another chance."
Hmmmmm... The great 'Its Now or Never' argument from men. Gotta love that one! Nothing like the prospect of being used for one night of instantaneously gratifying casual sex (only to be dissed the next day) to light a fire under a woman. Should I be jumping at this chance?!
I politely excused myself and went back inside to attend to my beer.
This guy did score some points though...
When introduced to my coworkers he asked why two of them were dressed in suits. They told him they had just come from a Mad Men party.
"What's Mad Men?" he asked.
They were shocked, "Its a TV show, you don't know Mad Men?!"
"No." He replied. "I don't watch TV. TV is bourgeois."
HA!!! I loved it. You should have seen their faces...
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Upstairs Neighbor
As I conduct yet another late night giggling conversation in both English and broken Portuguese, I remind myself not to be too loud because of the upstairs neighbor. When I first moved in she knocked on my door after a particularly uninhibited night and discreetly informed me that this was 'like a roommate situation' because we can hear fairly well what goes on in eachothers' places.
Sometimes I wonder what she must think of me. Does she hear me playing Christmas carols in late January? Singing along to 80’s power ballads? Arguing in broken Spanish and English as the cook I am hooking up with leaves at 2am? Having loud sex on the creaky murphy bed? Crying on the phone to my mom at 3 in the afternoon on a Sunday? Is she annoyed by the smoke alarm which always goes off loudly when I burn toast in the broiler? How did she like the smell of burning oil as my shirtless Brazilian boyfriend deep fried chicken in the kitchen with the back door wide open? Could she hear my brothers, their girlfriends and I tirading about the dissolution of the American Dream at top volume during my last dinner party? Has she noticed I play the same albums over and over? And that I listen to my ‘Latin Lounge’ compilation constantly? Did she hear me dancing and wailing along to Justin Timberlake’s Lovestoned?! Has she noticed the revolving door of strange foreign men coming in and out of my apartment at all hours of the day and night? Does she sometimes suspect she is living above a brothel?!
Does she think that I am A COMPLETE MANIAC?!!?
All I know about her is that she watches A LOT of TV and she seems to enjoy dropping heavy items onto the hardwood floor. I am always hearing strange thunks and thumps right over my head. Other than that she’s a mystery. Oh, and she was once sleeping with a guy who had a personalized license plate that said ‘Let’s Play Master and Servant’. I could hear him spanking her late at night sometimes.
My only hope is that she can’t hear TOO well up there…
Sometimes I wonder what she must think of me. Does she hear me playing Christmas carols in late January? Singing along to 80’s power ballads? Arguing in broken Spanish and English as the cook I am hooking up with leaves at 2am? Having loud sex on the creaky murphy bed? Crying on the phone to my mom at 3 in the afternoon on a Sunday? Is she annoyed by the smoke alarm which always goes off loudly when I burn toast in the broiler? How did she like the smell of burning oil as my shirtless Brazilian boyfriend deep fried chicken in the kitchen with the back door wide open? Could she hear my brothers, their girlfriends and I tirading about the dissolution of the American Dream at top volume during my last dinner party? Has she noticed I play the same albums over and over? And that I listen to my ‘Latin Lounge’ compilation constantly? Did she hear me dancing and wailing along to Justin Timberlake’s Lovestoned?! Has she noticed the revolving door of strange foreign men coming in and out of my apartment at all hours of the day and night? Does she sometimes suspect she is living above a brothel?!
Does she think that I am A COMPLETE MANIAC?!!?
All I know about her is that she watches A LOT of TV and she seems to enjoy dropping heavy items onto the hardwood floor. I am always hearing strange thunks and thumps right over my head. Other than that she’s a mystery. Oh, and she was once sleeping with a guy who had a personalized license plate that said ‘Let’s Play Master and Servant’. I could hear him spanking her late at night sometimes.
My only hope is that she can’t hear TOO well up there…
Monday, January 26, 2009
Stoner
I decided I needed to smoke a little pot. I don't do this too often but it just seemed like a good idea tonight. My initial plan was to watch a documentary on the Romans. Well, 20 minutes later and I am warbling along to Mazzy Star...'I've been let down...I've been put down...and i'm still coming 'round...again with you.' Then I start thinking all these nice things about my friends and my ex boyfriend. In fact I realize that I was completely in love with him, in a way that I'd never experienced before, and I realize that I am still in love with him. I even begin to suspect that he might be in love back with me! I am so filled with love in fact, that I decide to text one of my friends about how great I think she is and how much I admire her. I had been thinking this for a long time but I guess I never really said it and suddenly I thought that it might be nice for her to hear. Funny huh? Who would guess that I would be so happy and loving stoned?! Maybe its all the meditating...
OK now I'm gonna go watch Cutting Crew 'I Just Died in Your Arms Last Night'. AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH this is the life! ha ha
OK now I'm gonna go watch Cutting Crew 'I Just Died in Your Arms Last Night'. AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH this is the life! ha ha
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Despair
So far this blog has been all about my search for love. But lest I neglect the mental illness bit, I need to talk a little about depression. Depression is awful. That’s fair enough to say. People who have struggled with depression throughout their lives are sympathetic, they understand. But those who haven’t experienced it personally can be a bit judgmental. They will suggest you ‘snap out of it’, ‘pull yourself together’, ‘stop being so self-centered’, ‘get over yourself’, ‘stop whining’, etc, etc. I’ve received that type of advice a million times. The problem is you can’t do that. Depression is not laziness, or negativity or merely a lack of will power, or an inability to appreciate things. It is many things – a biochemical imbalance, a systematic way of looking at the world, a dysfunctional coping mechanism, learned helplessness, a catalyst for change when change is needed, an illness, a symptom of our sick society, a response to problems in one’s life, an addiction, a consequence of isolation, something that runs in families. Depression completely takes over your life and distorts your perception of reality. You cannot think straight. You cannot make decisions or plan for the future. And once you know you have depression you are forever scared that you may be falling back into its strangling grip. At least I am. I’m never sure if I’m over- reacting to a situation because I’m depressed or whether the situation really is shitty. Such is the case with my life right now.
I’m tired of pretending to be OK. My life, at this point is somewhat of a fiasco. When you question what is the point of being alive on a daily basis, that is not a good thing. But I don’t know what to do. There is no one to blame. I know now that I am responsible for my own suffering. What I don’t know is how to stop.
Years of failed relationships with men who could not love me back the way I wanted (even the way I deserved, as they all later confess), friendships that I never felt secure or safe in, jobs that were not only uninspiring but completely draining, confusion about my career, crippling loneliness, depression and isolation, have left my self esteem at a low point.
But I know I am ultimately responsible, I am the only one who can change things. And how I have tried to get better. I may have been ignorant but certainly not lazy. I have tried everything I can think of: therapist after therapist to liberate me from my depression, medication – so many different ones to quiet the obsessive negative ruminations of my mind, to help me feel ‘OK’ enough to make it through the day, hours and hours at the gym exercising to help me feel better about my body, to create enough endorphins to dull the pain, countless hours of prayer, pleading to a god I am uncertain of, a million tears to cleanse my eyes, days of silence and meditation trying to unravel my existential questions. Yet, I am lost. As lost as I’ve ever been. As lonely as I’ve ever been. And so, so, sooooo tired of it. I just don't know what to do next.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to kill myself. I just want to change. I want to be at peace. I want to feel alive again. I want to feel that my life matters.
The teacher at one of my Buddhist classes last night reminded us, ‘Every life contains ten thousand sorrows and ten thousand joys.’ Certainly there has been joy in my life but at this point I feel blind to it. Like I will never, ever, glimpse it again. I’m terrified I will never find love. I’m terrified this depression will never leave. I’m terrified I will never feel alive and happy again.
I’m tired of pretending to be OK. My life, at this point is somewhat of a fiasco. When you question what is the point of being alive on a daily basis, that is not a good thing. But I don’t know what to do. There is no one to blame. I know now that I am responsible for my own suffering. What I don’t know is how to stop.
Years of failed relationships with men who could not love me back the way I wanted (even the way I deserved, as they all later confess), friendships that I never felt secure or safe in, jobs that were not only uninspiring but completely draining, confusion about my career, crippling loneliness, depression and isolation, have left my self esteem at a low point.
But I know I am ultimately responsible, I am the only one who can change things. And how I have tried to get better. I may have been ignorant but certainly not lazy. I have tried everything I can think of: therapist after therapist to liberate me from my depression, medication – so many different ones to quiet the obsessive negative ruminations of my mind, to help me feel ‘OK’ enough to make it through the day, hours and hours at the gym exercising to help me feel better about my body, to create enough endorphins to dull the pain, countless hours of prayer, pleading to a god I am uncertain of, a million tears to cleanse my eyes, days of silence and meditation trying to unravel my existential questions. Yet, I am lost. As lost as I’ve ever been. As lonely as I’ve ever been. And so, so, sooooo tired of it. I just don't know what to do next.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to kill myself. I just want to change. I want to be at peace. I want to feel alive again. I want to feel that my life matters.
The teacher at one of my Buddhist classes last night reminded us, ‘Every life contains ten thousand sorrows and ten thousand joys.’ Certainly there has been joy in my life but at this point I feel blind to it. Like I will never, ever, glimpse it again. I’m terrified I will never find love. I’m terrified this depression will never leave. I’m terrified I will never feel alive and happy again.
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