Whore vs. Wife

About a year ago, my friend "J" and I were having drinks. We were discussing past relationships, flings, guys that are interested in us now, etc. when we realized that men, all men, whether they admit it or not classify women in two categories. The whores... and The wives. The whores are the girls they find attractive (especially at 2am) The women they are pretty sure will sleep with them on the first date. The chicks they view as adventurous, strong-willed and wild in bed. The girls every guy wants to bang. But that's where it ends. Then there are the wives. They are the sweet, kind, caretakers. The girls that would make you homemade chicken noodle soup if you were sick. The girls that you could picture having your children. The women you want to marry. It goes like this, a lot of times guys just aren't ready for the wives, so they go from whore to whore to whore. Fullfilling their dirty needs, waiting to grow up. And then when they do, they start looking for a wife... leaving the whores in the dust. And here in lies the problem. We whores are datable. We could make a good impression on the parents. We could be a great wife. But men have already catergorized us as only the whore, a role they can not seem to see past. For a long time, I thought all men believed in this. And that I was destined to be someone's whore for the rest of my life, never having the opportunity to be looked at as a wife. And then I met the love of my life. The man who appreciates the fact that I was wild, in and out of the bedroom. Who likes that I am strong-willed, don't cook, and won't ever drive a mini-van. I found a man who thinks there is absolutely no reason a whore can't be a wife. His favorite line is "A lady on the streets and a freak in the sheets". He accepts me for exactly who I am... wanting nothing more and nothing less. So the point: Men-Open your fucking eyes. Stop thinking there are only 2 categories of women. Start realizing that if you looked at that whore as more than a whore, you might actually get incredible sex for the rest of your life! And Women-Embrace who you are. If you are a whore, accept it, love it, flaunt it, never change it and never settle for a man who can't see it's the whores that make the best wives!!!

Minutes...

I've been waiting for this day for so long, it feels like forever. (Really it's been 4 months... 120 days... 2880 hours... 172800 minutes... you get the idea). Sometimes it seemed so far away I thought it would never come, sometimes I thought there was no way in hell I could make it, sometimes I dreamed it was already here. And now here it is, and I feel like a ball of emotions. I'm so excited, so excited to finally be with him, feel his arms around me, kiss him, hold him, smell him, talk to him face to face. So excited to show him my world, for him to really be a part of my life. But at the same time, I'm a little afraid. What if the real life relationship, isn't as good as the phone romance. What if he isn't as attracted to me, or I to him? What if the real sex isn't as good as the phone sex? What if he gets here and we have nothing more to say? What if the sparks that I felt falling in love with him over the phone, don't exist in the real world? What if I created this whole romance in my head, what if it really isn't there? I know it sounds silly, but in my head everything is perfect (at least as perfect as things can be). We are meant to be together. We figure out a way to make our two lives one... we are soul mates. This is the first real test of that theory. And I am so afraid it will just turn out to be wishful thinking. You know how sometimes things are so great, you are afraid to move, or change for fear it will all fall apart?? Like athletes who wear the same socks til they lose. We are just so good, so in love long distance, I don't want it to all come tumbling down. I know it's crazy and that if we really are soul mates, it will be even better in person. This will only make our love stronger, but I'm still kind of nervous. In three short hours I will know. I will know the minute I see him, the minute I touch him, the minute I kiss him. They are the minutes I have been counting down to for 4 long months. The minutes I can simply not wait for... the minutes that I hope last forever.

Addiction

Addictions... I was thinking about addiction and how I truly believe some people just have an addictive personality, are easier addicted than others. I think I definitely fit into that category. So I decided to make a list of my addictions. Why? I don't know, but it seemed like fun.

Cigarettes- Past
Chap Stick- Present
Cell Phone- Present
Caffeine- Present
Birth Control- Past, I didn't realize I was addicted to "the pill" until they took it away from me. But now that I am experiencing what I can only believe is withdrawl symptoms, I must admit yet another addiction.
Text Messaging- Present, Seriously I used to be one of the haters. But I must admit, now I love it. It's so quick, you don't have to have time for a conversation and you can do it on your own time.
This Blog- Present, It started because someone asked me what my dream job would be and I said a columnist, where I could write about whatever I want, whenever I want, however I want. And then I decided, why don't I just start a blog, my own online column. And since I can't drink right now, I have a lot of free time on my hands... so here we are!! Thanks for supporting my new addiction!!

Lame!!!

So the other day I was writing this story about a 64-year-old man who was hit by a run-a-way car while sitting at a bus stop. Now he is in the hospital in critical condition. And I was thinking to myself "I feel so bad for that poor old man." Then later it hit me. My dad could be that poor old man. My dad is 64-years-old. And I was thinking, "I wonder if you would call a 64-year-old elderly??" I would never call my dad elderly. It just re-enforced what I guess I already knew. My work world... and my real world really can't co-exist. In order to deal with the bad, the ugly, the sad, the disturbing, the heartbreaking stories that we cover on a daily basis. In order to see what would make a "good" story. You have to be able to seperate yourself from the emotions. Otherwise we would spend all our time crying, cursing god, or trying to hang ourselves. Don't get me wrong. It's not like that is all we cover, but it is a good portion of it. And you sort of have to become a little desensitized, or risk losing your mind. But it really boils down to this... somewhere, someone loves every person in the stories we tell.

I just read through that... and that was really lame. So lame I totally thought about deleting it, but then I kinda felt like that was cheating. I thought it, believed it was blog worthy and wrote it. So, now I'll post it... but I will not be proud of it!!

Paybacks are a BITCH!

If you are anything like me, over the years, you have come to realize what a pain in the ass you used to be. (Yes, I used the past tense and I meant past tense. If you think I'm bad now, you should have seen me then!) I spent the majority of my teenaged years pouting, picking fights and causing problems. Especially for my mom. We couldn't have a conversation without screaming, crying and slamming doors. I look back at now with embarressment at how much grief and how many headaches I must have caused her. But, I also realize now that there are so many things I must have just tucked away, so many rude comments, things I never should have said, that I decided were not worth remembering. Luckily my mom has not forgotten. And every once in a while, she whips one out... just to remind me of what a stubborn, selfish, bitch I was. This one... well... this one may take the cake. The conversation goes like this...
Mom: So I was out to dinner with my book club... you know my new book club I'm in. (Before we go any farther, let me point out I'm from Minnesota and yes my mom has the accent!! Read it again, be sure to stress the vowels!!!)
Me: Uh huh. (Truthfully I don't remember, but sometimes it's just better to play along!)
Mom: One of the ladies was talking about her son who is getting ready to go to college and he is so stressed out he has actually broken out in hives. Can you believe it? You remember how stressed out you were trying to make college decisions???
Me: Not really.
Mom: You don't? You were a real pain. I mean I remember at one point telling you that you didn't have to go to college right away. You could take a year off and figure things out. And do you remember what you said to me?
Me: No, Mom... (Say it again, really exasperated... because that's how I did it.--Sidebar: Maybe I am still a big bitch??!!!)
Mom: You don't?
Me: No, Mom... (Even more exasperated... the point of frustration. Is this going anywhere?--Sidebar: It's official... I am still a bitch. See this is why I do this, it's like looking in a mirror. How do you people put up with me?)
Mom: You said to me, "I'm going to college Mom. I'm going to make something out of myself, unlike you!"
Me: Silent (And if you know me, speechless is never an issue.)
Me: (Finally) I said that?
Mom: Yes, you said that.
Me: I totally don't remember that. (Stammering) I'm so sorry Mom. Wow! I was a really big bitch.
Mom: It's okay. It did get you moving though. You started making decisions. (She laughs, maybe after 27 years of dealing with me, that's all you can do... laugh???)
Mom: I told my friend she might want to try it though. It worked for you.

Unbelievable huh?? It's amazing how easy it is to forget the horrible things you do or say, especially to the people who love you the most. That my friends is why I have always said if I ever have children, no girls. I know I will get one just like me. And there is no way I would make it through a mini-me. At least one of us wouldn't make it through. It's also why I think my mom has always hoped I would have a girl... because we all know, as the saying goes... Paybacks are a Bitch. (Just like I used to be!)

The Rockstar: The Real Story

So, the other night my partner in crime "J" and I went to our new favorite band's show. We purchased $18 tickets online... put our best rock gear on... and headed out to the show. After a small problem finding the venue (J is totally directionally challenged) and a mile walk in the freezing cold (I thought we lived in AZ! WTF?)... we arrived!! We picked up our tickets at the will call... got patted down by kids... and received our over 21 "you can drink" orange wrist band of honor. And then we entered what can only be described as middle school. Immediately we make our way through the underaged crowd... and beeline for the bar, where we are greeted by one other orange banded concert-goer who says "finally some more people who can drink". By now we have had time to scan the crowd and I am embarrassed by where I am. Literally in punk rock middle school. I'm not really sure if there is anyone over the age of 16, with the exception of the few parents milling around, making sure their rebellious teen doesn't get into any trouble. As our band takes the stage, we look to our right. J says, "Oh look, he looks about our age." "Yeah," I respond "and he just put in ear plugs!" The band starts to play and J looks at me, motioning to a space in the middle of the crowd. "You must be kidding... I don't want to be surrounded by them" (them, of course, being the unpredictable teens) "Oh come on! I wanna see." I give up... and we move in. Just as we get settled, J gets jabbed from behind by the wild elbow of an obnoxious pre-pubescent boy. I secretly laugh. I told her. But she stands her ground. The band is playing, our favorite. They are hypnotizing and for a minute I forget I am in hell. Then I blink... and it's over. "What?" J exclaims, "That was like 20 minutes." "Really?" I say. But she's right... we paid $18 for 20 minutes. If I were picking up a hooker, that would have been a great deal... but for my favorite band, nothing short of disappointing. "Let's get out of here!" J commands. I agree... I've never felt so old or uncool in my life. As we begin tromping through the parking lot... making our mile treck back to the cars... J yells "Hey!". I turn to see who she is yelling at... and it is none other than two members of our new favorite band. J wastes no time in telling them how we feel. "You guys sounded great, but 20 minutes??" "Yeah, sorry" the lead singer responds. "Its the tour. We only play a 20 minute set." I now chime in... "We came all the way out here to see you guys, we're a little disappointed." "Yeah," J echoes my frustration, "and we were the oldest ones in the room". Nothing like meeting two members of your favorite band and laying into them right away!! The conversation continues... names exchanged... bum a smoke... headed to Vegas... two days off... where are you going... what's cool around here... we have your cd's... were at the last Tempe show... blah... blah.. blah. I'll just fast forward to the good part. The lead singer... we'll call him "C"... says "I'm supposed to stay here for the rest of the show, but maybe I'll try and skip out and buy you guys a drink since you came all the way out for 20 minutes. Take my number!" This is the part where I am waiting for J to react... hello... I know you want to sleep with him... pull out your phone! Finally my psychic message gets to her and she takes his number. He tells her to call it right away, so he'll know her number. She does.. he leaves himself a funny message. "Hey C... Remember to call J and living lawless. You're an idiot." We part ways.. J can't wipe the smile off her face. We leave, call about 45 minutes later to tell C where we're at. Have dinner, a drink, J gets discouraged. I pump her up. We move on to another bar... another drink. J feels defeated. We leave. Just as I suspected... J gets a call from "C" at 11:30. "Hey, we're headed out of town. Just wanted to tell you how nice it was meeting you both. Next time we're in town, I for sure owe you those drinks. Until then, feel free to call anytime." Since then, there have been a couple texts and myspace messages. That's right... we're friends with a rockstar. And that's the real story. Jealous??? You should be!!!!

Unloveable

Uncomfortabe in your own skin, angry with your emotions, mad at your thoughts, frustrated you have no control. It's a place, a feeling, a situation I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. There is nothing worse than knowing how truly irrational, unstable and emotional you are being and still not being able to fix it. There is nothing worse than knowing there is nothing anyone can say or do at that moment to make you feel better. There is nothing worse than making the people who love and care about you the most, the people who only want the best for you, feel awful and not stop yourself from doing it. There is nothing like listening to a laundry list of reasons you rock... but only HEARING the part where you are hurting someone else. There is nothing like having someone tell you they love you, know they would never lie to your or hurt you, but still not being able to believe it. When words of encouragement and love are somehow distorted in your brain to be painful lies. It is the darkest, lonliest, scariest place. A place where I don't even want to be with me, so why should anyone else? A place where I can't stand my actions, my words, my thoughts. A place where I know what I should be saying, feeling and thinking, but can't will it enough to happen. A place where I should just shut my self up and not talk to anyone, so that I can't hurt the people I love, but I can't even make that good decision. A place where I feel hopeless and helpless. A place where the only way to describe how I am feeling is unloveable. I hate the way I am acting, being, feeling... the decisions I am making. And so therefore, all I can believe is that, is how other people are seeing me as well. And if they aren't, that's how they should be. I am not worthy of the love, affection, caring and comfort that the people around me are trying to give. So their words can not... and should not be true. Then when the people that love me, who are trying to comfort me, can not... their feeling get hurt. Thus confirming for me what I already know... I am unloveable. And the vicious cycle continues.
It really is like Alice In Wonderland, falling down the black hole. I can feel myself falling but there is no way to stop it. And once I am down there, there is no turning back. It is the darkest and most alone I have ever felt and the worst part is... that is what I truly believe I deserve. And then... as quickly as the darkness comes... I see a light... a light at the end of my tunnel and I know I will make it through. But in the darkness and despair, it is hard to remember the light. And even scarier to worry that this time... it will not come.

You don't know!!!!

So, I totally feel like a bitch saying this... perhaps that is why I am saying it here. I could never say it out loud to anyone, but I have thought it so many times in the last five months... that if I don't say it somewhere, I am going to explode.
With that said... here goes.
Don't tell me you know how I feel. Don't tell me you know what I'm going through. Don't tell me you understand. There is no possible way you do. You have never had to realize that you spent four weeks, as a walking time bomb, one that could go off, taking your life at any minute. You have never had smoking, drinking and your sanity taken away in one swift move. You've never been poked every four hours for 6 days. And you've never had to face the fact that decisions you made... nearly cost you your life. You've never been told you have a mutation... a defect that will put you at risk for the rest of your life... and could cause you pregnancy problems. You have never made it through all that... only to learn that was just the beginning. The battle was not nearly over. Now... perhaps in part to the near-death experience and the fact that everything in your life is completely out of control, you have anxiety. Daily anxiety attacks that many times you can not control. A lack of control that makes you feel even more crazy that you already are... thus causing more anxiety... and the vicious cycle begins once again. You have never been there... you don't know. You don't know what it is like to be prescribed medication that is supposed to "solve your emotional problems", get your hopes up that you may be closer to normal again, and then get no results. You don't know what it is like to be taken off birth control (which did I mention you can never have again)... and be crazy for half of every month. Wild mood swings... migrane headaches... killer cramps... crazy. You don't know what it is like to be told there is really nothing that can be done for you, short of removing all your reproductive organs. You have no idea what it is like to face the fact that it may be nearly impossible for you to get pregnant... but at the same time, if you don't want to get pregnant you will forever have to use a condom. You don't know what it is like to have to carry five pill bottles with you at all times "just in case". You don't spend your life "pretending"... like you are happy, better, satisfied. You just don't know. I realize you may know what it is like to face one of these issues... or maybe even a couple during your life, but not all of them... at once. The bottom line is this... I appreciate the love and support. I appreciate people trying to help. I appreciate people trying to understand. But you could not possibly know what I am going through. You may think that all I am doing here is whinning, that I don't realize that everyone goes through tough times, that there are people who are way worse off than me, that it could have been much worse. That is again where you are wrong. I get that I am lucky I am still alive. That's part of what makes this all the more difficult. Because I made it, but I am still suffering. Because I should be happy, but instead much of the time I am miserable. You may think you know... but you have no idea.

Heavily Medicated

The laundry list of medications that is my life...
Coumadin- 10mg Monday thru Friday
7.5mg Saturday & Sunday
Lexapro "my pupulei pills"-20mg Everday
Xanax- 1 pill at the onset of an anxiety attack
Midrin- 1 or 2 pills at onset of migrane
Vicodin- 1 pill every 4-6 hours to treat cramps
I though I would share the long list of medications that make up my life with you. Why? I'm not really sure. Maybe I'm just looking for a little validation that a list this long is crazy... crazier than I apparently am. I mean I am 27 years old, fairly healthy, in pretty good shape. So WTF... should I really need this many drugs to deal with my daily life?? I have even resorted to using one of those daily pill containers. You know, the one where you put your pills in for each day so you don't forget to take your meds. The ones your grandparents probably have. Yea, I'm at that point. So you may be thinking all those pills are a little extreme... and that perhaps I am just a wuss, who can't deal with my life, or things not being easy. To you I would say "Fuck off!!" If you are not crazy, you could not, would not and will not ever understand. If you don't get PMS, you could not, would not and will not ever understand. If you have never had a blood clot, you could not, would not and will not understand. If you have not had cramps, you could not, would not and will not understand. If you don't fit into any of these categories, thank what ever holy figure you believe in. Here's the thing... I would really like to be able to live my life prescription free... but I would also like to be able to live my life without pain, anxiety or feeling totally out of control. Now if only someone would make a pill... one pill... for all that!!

Let your crazy hang out!

I was reading this article and it was about the ten things you should never do on a first date. #2 on the list... don't talk about your psychiatrist... or any psychiatric drugs you may be on. So it got me thinking about the first time I hung out with my now boyfriend (and love of my life). I had a massive anxiety attack... one that required not one, but two xanax pills to control. And then I proceded to tell him all about how ever since I got out of the hospital, I have been kind of crazy, and they put me on pills in hopes of taming my insanity, but obviously they hadn't exactly started working yet. All of that... and he didn't leave. He rubbed my back when I was freaking out.. and listened intently... even pretending like he didn't want to run, while I explained how insane I may be. And now... he is still there. I still tell him everything... about my PMS... cramps... and many prescription pills. So bottom line... what the fuck do "they" know. I think when it's the right person... at the right time... it won't matter how crazy you are... when you choose to disclose that information... or what drugs you take to try and deal with life. What it all boils down to is this... we should never be afraid to let our crazy hang out.