117. A Picture Says a Thousand Lusts

Oy. I hate getting to this part of my day and realizing that I’m sad. I feel a bit of defeat when I write about my sadness in my blog about happiness. It’s late. It’s like 3 in the fucking morning. So here’s what I have to say:

I love my friends so much. I totally do. I am so lucky to have these people in my life. I’m so lucky to love these people who love me back. But sometimes, it’s just not enough. And I hate myself for that. I want to be patient and wait for my 10. But like… tonight, dancing at Plan B, I know it’s not about getting a man, but damn, sometimes I just want someone to dance up on me. And like, these people are not 10s but I want them to dance up on me anyway. It’s like I don’t think I can catch a 10. But that’s silly. Cuz I think I’m a 10. So am I just a 10 who is doomed to settle? Isn’t that my decision to make? Oy. So. I love my friends, and I wish they were always enough but fuck, sometimes I just want someone to put their tongue in my mouth.

Tonight, I heard “Just The Way You Are” by Bruno Mars, and I cried. I fuckin’ love that song. And I imagined someone singing it to me and truly meaning it. It made me cry. Patience times a million, James. I can tell myself that’s not what I want, but my heart won’t be reasoned with.

My friends are brilliant:

Please note the many layers to this lying down picture. The simultaneous action in the foreground and background. The sexual tension. The unrequited love. The mystery. Ugh. Brillo pad, brillz.

Those times when I’m complimenting myself hardcore, like calling myself a 10, I don’t think I’m trying too hard. I think I’m doing exactly what I need to survive. People might think I’m cocky. But I don’t care. I’m doing what I need to do to make it through the day, to get from Point A to Point B. Survival of the fittest, mothafuckas. And that’s what I’m doing. Surviving. And when I compliment myself so thoroughly, what the f do I need a boyfriend for, right?

Crying is like raining. It’s natural and it happens.

I always walk away from my blog and think about all the things I could’ve done differently. But this is what it is. Honest. Word vomit. It’s not perfectly structured or planned out. I’m writing as it comes to me.

“And I promise you, kid, that I give so much more than I get. I just haven’t met you yet. I might have to wait. I’ll never give up. I guess it’s half timing. The other half’s luck.”
~”Haven’t Met You Yet” by Michael Bublé

It’s so ironic that I loved this song so much this summer. I couldn’t figure it out til now. I need it the most now. I haven’t met “you” yet. And I do; I give 9 million times more than I get. I will wait and wait and wait. I am perfect for you, whoever you are.

I wish it were enough. I’m so sorry. I love you to pieces, I hope you know that. But I just don’t know what to do.

Trying to remind myself the experience is about having fun and being me instead of catching a guy.

Any help would be greatly appreciated. And please please please, don’t be subtle. I have become more blatant with my blog. Please do the same.

I don’t know the answers. And I don’t need someone who knows them either. I just want someone to ponder the questions with me. To laugh about the mystery and the absence of answers. Just make me feel like it’s OK to not know.

James/Esperanza.

oh and Happy Birthday, Ninja.

116. Face Down For Shtetlblasters

Wow. For some reason it’s really hard for me to start writing tonight. I don’t know why. Well, I do know why. It’s because I know I have some inexplicable sadness that I’m reluctant to put into a blog about the journey towards happiness. But there ain’t no happy without sad. Somebody taught me that.

Rucha Trivedi is a special brand of rum butt pirate. She is Pimp. What a fuckin’ rockstar. I went to her show, FINALLY, tonight. I was really amazed. I wish I could’ve heard MORE CLARINET *cough cough*. But alas. Well, this is how I entertained myself during the opening band:

That’s right, I’m at a bar. Well, technically I’m at Glass Nickel East on Atwood. But there were totes defs people around.

Gah. I’m speechless. Wordless. Here are some things I wrote down that I learned today.

Well I didn’t really learn these things today. Sometimes I get nervous that I’m gonna stop learning things about life, but life is not so limited. I will never know everything. And sometimes I learn the same lesson again and again, but I learn it in different ways. And sometimes the lesson sticks better. And sometimes I learn to see things in a completely different way.

Kelley complimented my blog a couple of nights ago and told me I was writing about what I had discovered and I wasn’t searching for some meaning. So here’s what I have discovered by this time: 1:52 am:

I sleep with my core protected at all times. If I lie on my back, I have my hood over my eyes and a pillow over my chest and I’m hugging it like it’s gonna melt. If I lie on my side, I’m hugging a pillow to cover my core and I have my hood over my head. If I’m on my stomach, I have my fists underneath me or I’m hugging a pillow and again, my hood is over my head. See a theme?  So while I may play it all cool as I blog, my sleeping positions tell me one thing: I’m still scared. And I’m still protecting myself. That’s not an awful thing. It’s just an observation. Yeah, I’m scared.

But I won’t lie to myself and tell myself I haven’t gotten better. I was honestly happy today. And I was happy upon realizing that I have made progress. 116 days ago I was a total mess. A total mess, in denial. But now I’m more organized and I’m embracing my messy side. I’m so much better. So. If you are having an awful awful time: it gets better. You have to be patient. But don’t wait. Be proactive. Give yourself a project. Don’t just sit, watch the water and wait for it to boil. Give yourself a project. Active healing. Don’t be passive about happiness. How badly do you want it? This badly? Then go for it.

I kept looking at people today and thinking, “nota10. Not a 10…. Nope, Nota10.’ But that’s not what it’s about, James. Not everyone wants to date me. And vice versa. I just need friends. And I don’t need to be a total jerk about people being drop-dead man candy to be my friends. I mean, who am I? That’s not me. I’m not looking for dating. At all. At all. AT ALL. So why don’t I start looking at people for who they really are?

I am currently sad. I don’t know why. There are tears in my eyes, and I can’t figure out why. I had an amazing day with beautiful people in my life. I know I am loved. I like where I am. But I’m sad. I’m crying, but I don’t know why. I don’t have the answer. Is emotional intelligence about knowing how you feel or is it about knowing why you feel how you feel? Maybe I’ll figure it out tomorrow. But I am currently stressing to myself the importance of feeling what I feel when I feel it. James, I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know why you’re crying. But you’re really, really cool and I like you, happy or sad. Be content with knowing how you feel, and don’t overanalyze the cause. That’s not important, but the honesty is.

“I just want to feel something today. Open me up and you will see I’m a gallery of broken hearts.”
~”Be OK” by Ingrid Michaelson

James the James.

115. Dild Cookie

Well. I guess we’ll start with the picture. I spy..  A DILD COOKIE:

If you can’t find it… then you need to spend more time around dild cookies.

Kelley made it to Wisconsin. She didn’t crash and burn on the plane as she suspected/I hoped. TOTES KIDS. So glad you’re keeping me company in my bed for 12 days! Which is way cool. Understatement of 2010.

Cookie party with Teague.  Huge success. I love you guys.

So I started watching Glee again, and I’m finally caught up. I was losing my love for the show recently. But I was really, really touched by the wedding episode. God damnit, it was so sweet. And I hate to admit this but… I still want to get married some day. And I watch to punch myself in the face for saying that. But I can’t help it! I want a fairytale. A 10+10. A simple math equation. But this is so far in my future that I can dream about it. It’s like when you’re little… “little”- and you dream about what your future will be like. That’s what this is for me. I have no idea what “he” will look like. No clue. And he won’t be perfect. But he will be perfect for me. I used to think I knew what he would look like. But I have no idea. But I do know how he’ll make me feel. Until then, I’ll be dreaming of you, Mr. 10.

I couldn’t help myself. I was thinking of someone singing Bruno Mars’ “Just The Way You Are” to me, and I started crying. Damn, I want someone to love me just the way I am. Or just to tell me. In person. It’s so safe to bare your feelings on the internet. I am living interweb proof. I’ll tell you how much I love you. Just please do it back.

But you know what, I was around my friend and her beau tonight and I wasn’t clawing my eyes out. I was really happy for her, and I wasn’t selfishly hating my life. A boyfriend for me finally seemed irrelevant. Yeah, it would be nice, but that’s not even an issue for me right now. I am not looking. I am not waiting. I am enjoying my alone time. I mean that. I’m genuinely serious about that. But, nevertheless, it won’t stop me from dreaming.

Don’t do something just to get a rise out of me. If you want to know if it is gonna hurt, ask. I’ll tell you. But why would you test my limits? Why would anyone do that? Are you doing things to make yourself happy or are you doing things to test the authenticity of my happiness? I’ve developed a new system to my life, yes. But I can tell you that I 100% love my life. And I feel happiER. And that matters. To me.

You know what song puts me at peace the second I hear it: “Simple Life” by The Weepies. God, just the opening chords.

I know my sister, Leah, is awesome because she said this:
I was reading a few of your blogs (catching up). And then I went through older ones. The feelings I get when reading the blogs are hard to explain. Then Justin Biebs came up on my itunes and answered all questions.
“When you smile, I smile.”

She makes me feel like a million bucks and she did it with a Biebs quote. And she called him Justin Biebs.

I have people who love me, but they tell me in a cryptic fashion like I do. I tell you guys that I love you without saying it. And you do, too. It’s time to realize that.

I don’t want Mr. 10 right now. I’m not waiting for you. Don’t wait for me either. I’ll find you some day. Or vice versa. Til then, we’re Teague/James/Kelley/Caity/Katie, etc.

Harry Potter coexisted with Voldemort. And you know what? He was THUG while he did it. He learned a few things from me. Or something.

Good Mr. 10. Only 2s or 3s settle, right Caity? The rest of us? We hold out for rum butt pirates.

Til then…

“I’m a soldier of love, every day and night. I’m a soldier of love, all the days of my life. I’ve been torn up inside. I’ve been left behind. So I ride. I have the will to survive.”
~”Soldier of Love” by Sade

James the Rum-Butt-Pirate Lover

P.S. You’re fuckin’ HOT.

LOVE

114. “It’s Hard Being So Fashion-Forward”

KELLEY IS COMING TOMORROW. Sorry I was totes excited.

BUSY DAY. I felt like I did everything today. But I have so much more to do and so many more people to see. That sounds like a good problem to have, eh? And I hung out with Leah today, which I’m really happy about. I’m good at hanging out with my friends, but I don’t feel like I’m very good at hanging out with my family. So I get kinda awkward about it. Because I love my family so so so so much, but I don’t really know how to show it. I guess it’s the same as with friends. But… I don’t know. I just love my family so much and I don’t know how to show them. I know my friends know it. I bet my family does, too. I should just chill out and relax, eh?

I’m having a sleepover with Caity right now. And I am 100% sure that she is totally being soothed to sleep by this blaring computer light.

I don’t like admitting that I need people. It scares me a lot. That’s why I used to have up a wall, and that’s why I’ve put it up again. Because admitting that I need someone empowers the other person. BUT. As Caity so righteously pointed out, life isn’t about a power struggle. At least, I don’t want my life to be about a power struggle. I want to be honest with people and tell them how I feel. Yes, maybe admitting I need someone gives them power. And that’s scary. I don’t have the resolution to that one yet. But I need you. Bad bad bad. And you probably already know that. And if I can’t say it, just look at the way I look at you. Or listen to how you make me laugh. Don’t make me say it. Just know please.

Here’s the picture:

I don’t know what it is, really. It’s some dude wearing sunglasses and holding a huge ice cream cone. Maybe he’s my alter ego? Caity decorated him this way and then took this brilliant photo on my camera. And then she said, “It’s hard being so fashion-forward.”

I made a Bieber video today. And I am not ashamed. Momma H specifically asked for a Bieber video. So I spent all morning warming up (NOT) and then I made her a flawless video. If you haven’t seen it, enlighten yourself. Go watch it.

Today I abbreviated the word “tampons” to “tamps”. Spread it around like gonorrhea. I have no idea how to spell that word.

I have no idea what a G6 is but I WANT TO BE ONE SO BADLY!

I am a “love” kind of guy, not a “fuck” kind of guy. I’m a lover, not a fucker.

And why yes, I AM THUG. Thank you for asking.

And by pops demands, I have returned to my sluts prof. pics. No worries, it’ll change shortly, as it always does.

I like this James much better. God, it sucked like a motherfucker at first but damn, I am so much closer to the guy I want to be. And that’s not me exaggerating to make myself be better. I’m not trying too hard right now. I really really am closer to who I want to be. And I am happy right now. I will admit that.

TODAY I GOT TO USE MY PREPARED ANSWER. My former dance teacher asked if I had a boyfriend. I said no. She said why. I said, “I’m a 10.” She didn’t ask any more questions. I think I gave her the appropriate answer. I know I gave her the appropriate answer.

“I’ma get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight.”
~”Teenage Dream” by Katy Perry

JAMES the Honest.

Ask me if I think you’re cute. Just ask me. Unless you’re fugs. JK. I’m thug. OO. That’s better.

JAMES the Thug.

113. BIEBER FEVER

My sickness has been diagnosed: I have BIEBER FEVER. Oh my god, cure me Jesus. I love me some Biebs. I don’t know if I wrote about this yesterday but I saw the Biebs wearing these bomb ass purple shoes in a picture. I immediately knew we were meant to be, the shoes and me. So I found them. They’re called Supras. And I bought them with my Christmas money from my G-pa/G-ma. THANK YOU SO MUCH. They are bomb ass shoes and I am so so so so so so so so excited to be wearing a new pair of shoes that fit.

Proof of Bieber Fever: (and yes, today I accidentally called it “Beaver Fever” and I laughed pretty hard.)
We played Bop-It together, me and the Biebs. At Wal-Mart. Obvis, I’m more excited about the game than he. But he just really takes Bop-It seriously. I try to show him how fun it is with my big smiles but I can’t distract him from his smizing. Ugh, silly Biebs. Can I borrow your shoes by the way? I want to wear them on my HANDS cuz that’s the only place they’d fit.

PS Loves, it was really difficults to pick a pic for today. There were so many winners. And no worries, they will soon find themselves on the FB.

Usually I spend all day remembering things that I want to talk about at the end of the day. But today, I just really was in every moment. I loved it all. But I put it all out there with last night’s blog, and I was really really proud of that one. So tonight is all about piece of mind.

Today was good. I saw a lot of people I love. I hung out with my mommy, I skyped with Emma, I hung out with Amanda, I came home to play this game but it wasn’t really happening so I went out surfing the town with Stacy and Caity. It was really nice. I was able to reflect on life with them, and none of it hurt any more. Am I healed? Who can say. But I feel like I’m moving on to the next phase: acceptance. It really is like someone died.

Here are the two greatest things that have ever happened in my life:
1) I broke my collarbone.
2) …”This”
By “this”, I don’t mean my blog. But this. I mean, if you read this, you have to know what this is all about. You have to. And if you don’t get it, ask me. But really. Really. It’s like someone took my life and told me, “You don’t know any of the shit you really know.” And they were right. My shit fell apart. It spurred this project, which has radically changed my life. It made me reevaluate who I really am. It brought me back to my friends and brought me to new friends. I mean, Teague, etc. I am SO grateful. If I didn’t enter the world of HotMessLand, we wouldn’t be here. I just know it. So thank god for that! And now? I can handle anything. I broke my collarbone, I broke my heart, LET’S DO THIS BITCH. I got metal in my collarbone and persistence in my love-bone. Bring it.

Now I have a chance to be James, whatever the fuck that is. But I get to regain my footing. I have the opportunity to figure out what is important to me. I had a shift in my frame of reference. When my world was turned upside-down (literally) after flying off my bike, I had a new perspective on the world. Cuz my life got fucked. And now, I get that beautiful opportunity all over again. If your life has never been fucked, I hope it happens because it makes you reevaluate. And it makes you grateful. Unless you have always had a good grip on gratitude. Then good for you and I take back my “ill” wishes toward you. But really. I know it sucks, but I know it was necessary.

I am a 10. YOU are a 10. If you remember anything from what I have to say, it’s that. WE.ARE.TENS. (thanks mommy aka nana aka debs aka Katie)

I understand why you run, but some day them loves gon’ give out. And when you stop running, isn’t it still there? I don’t have the answer, just the question.

I used to edit myself but I don’t want to anymore. I swear. A LOT. And I can’t take it out. Because this is how I write. Yeah, I tone it down when I talk to my mom. I hesitate. I censor. But this is my fuckin’ blog. And the goal isn’t to maintain readers. The goal is to gather my bearings. Get my shite togeths. And it fucks up my rhythm, omitting the profanity. So just don’t read it. I asked Kelley the other day if what I was writing was too much and she told me that it’s my blog and I should write whatever. If y’all don’t wanna read it then go F yoself.

Ok that was harsh. My apologies.

“Graham, I think we got rear ended. I think we spun around twice, and somewhere in there, one of us lost our frame of reference. And I’m going to look for it.”
~Ria in Crash

JAMES THE 10.

112. Irrelevant Fuckedupness.

Oh my heck, it’s 3:04 AM. Being a rockstar, as always. Even on Christmas.

Let’s get cracking, shall we? I’m gonna save the picture at the end so I will KNOW the blog will end on a good note.

Well I made a new(ish) friend recently. We were talking on facebook, and I was updating him on my life and my current conflict: balance. I was kinda being rude to myself as I described my fucked-up self trying to find a balance between two things. And he told me that finding a healthy balance is healthy. Because I’m confronting the issue and I’m actively looking for an equilibrium, instead of shoving the issue and aside and ignoring it. And I can’t be the only person with this problem, I absolutely cannot be. But I may be the only person who talks about it. And writes about it on the internet. (Thank you, by the way, if you even read this.)

Whenever I see my grandma, she asks about my “friend”. That’s the new/old awkward word for “boyfriend”. It’s like distilled homo code. So, on Christmas Eve I prepared myself for the question about my “friend”. This is how it was gonna go down (in my head):
Grandma: So, James, do you have a new friend?
Me: No, Grandma.
Grandma: Why not?
Me: Because I’m TOO FUCKING AWESOME.

I did say something along these lines to my grandma once. Then she told me I was picky. I was/am proud. Fuck yes I’m picky. I know beggars can’t be choosers but I am not begging. So I’ma be choosy. Shoo(t). Also today this convo went down with my grandma:
Grandma: You are so skinny!
Me: Thanks, grandma!
Grandma: Except your legs are big at the top.
Me:…Thanks, grandma.
Grandma: It’s muscle.
Me: Yes, I tell myself that, too, grandma.

Oh, and to follow up on yesterday, I figured out why I’m constantly prepared with 9 insults: it’s because 98% of the time, I am TERRIFIED. Sometimes, I don’t even know what I’m scared of. But I am scared SO OFTEN. I’m scared if I’m walking by myself I’m gonna get attacked or at least people are gonna yell, “Fag!” at me. When I get a weird feeling in my stomach, I get nervous that someone in my family just died. I’m always scared! And I hate hate hate it. I’m gonna do something about it. By not doing anything. I’m gonna tell myself to chill. I’m gonna be my person, and I’M gonna tell myself that it’ll be ok. Self-sufficiency: it’s the way of the future. Except, please stay. I’m making jokes, see? I do that sometimes, I make jokes, in hopes of making you laugh. But I really am trying to be my own person. But. I won’t turn down some help sometime. Like that text message you sent me today. It was exactly what I needed at that moment. And I feel apart when I got it: “You are not alone today. You have me, and I love you.” God, it’s making me tear up all over again.

Sometimes people want to get to know me for no other reason than my personality. And I always get so mad when random gays add me on Facebook because I think, ‘You don’t know anything about me! Why are you adding me?? Is it just because I’m cute?!’ But, I don’t realize, or take the time to realize, that you can see so much of my personality in my profile pictures.
1) I take a fierce ugly pic. Nobody do rolls like me.
2) I love to laugh and smile.
3) I like to dress trashy as long as it’s funny.
So maybe these randos see my personality and that’s why they want to get to know me. And maybe sometimes it’s just that. Not everyone wants to fuck me. Maybe they just want to be friends. So, it’s time to put away Hostile James and return to Friendly James.

Tonight at the club, I made a realization. I went dancing at Plan B with Caity and Stacy. We had so much fun but this time it was different. Last time, I wanted to feel sexy. So I wanted guys to come up and dance with me to make me feel.. validated, I guess. And it worked. But that wasn’t me. I was being someone else, trying too hard. Tonight, I whipped out some ballet and some modern dance and some really poor technique on top of all that. But that was ME. I was being myself. And I was having such a good time, and guys still looked. But now, it felt warranted. Because I was being authentic. I wasn’t being Put-On James. I was being Uninhibited James. And that’s the person I want to portray myself as. And it made a difference tonight, inside and out.

Here’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for:

Um. That. My niece, Ava, with a blue duck. I can’t help but look at this picture and feel total piece of mind. Today, I made her laugh. And at that moment, none of my fuckedupness mattered. Because I made my niece laugh. And then when I tried to put her down, she wouldn’t let me. She kept resting her head on my shoulder. I felt so important. And she can’t even talk.

See you soon.

I’m learning this process is about healing and it’s about coping. This is almost a new life for me, cuz that old one died. It’s dead. But it’s not about be unfuckedup. It’s about embracing that fuckedupness and really appreciating the beauty in those moments where being fucked up is irrelevant.

Meredith: “The goal of any surgery is total recovery – to come out better than you were before. Some patients heal quickly and feel immediate relief. For others the healing happens gradually, and it’s not until months or even years later that you realize you don’t hurt anymore. So the challenge after any surgery is to be patient. But if you can make it through the first weeks and months, if you believe that healing is possible, then you can get your life back. But that’s a big if.”
~Grey’s Anatomy “Adrift and at Peace”

It doesn’t even matter.

JAMES.

111. Emma Comes to Christmas

Well. You may be confused/intrigued by the title, as you should be. My mother really wanted Emma to come to Christmas with us. The trouble is… Emma is in Croatia. Good thing my mom is BRILLIANT:

Luckily we had a huge picture of Emma’s senior picture just lying around. So my mother devised that we bring it/her with us. In this photo, Leah is telling a joke to Emma. Emma is not amused.

It started when I was coming out of the shower and my mom said, “James, don’t go too far.” So I came back to the kitchen to see what she wanted. She said, “Well I really want pictures of Emma at Christmas with us. So can you take a picture of her helping to make dinner?” I turn to find this giant picture sitting on the table, staring at me. But I’m not one to contradict my mother. We took many pictures of Emma chillin’ with us today, and my mother promised we’d take more tomorrow. If you haven’t figured it out, SHE’S where I get it from. Also, she wore earrings with bells on them, and she kept shaking her head vigorously to make them jingle. My mother, simultaneously a caretaker and a Santa’s sleigh reenactment. Thank God.

I feel like every night when I get to my blog, I get so dark and broody. Well F that S. For reals. S a D. E a BM… (that one was “Eat a BigMac”). I am a happy person godamnit. I spread cheer, fuckers. And it’s Christmas. Oh shit. I have to call Edward to wish him a happy B. DONE. Left the most R VM. But who gives a C? Oh my god, This is fun. So F. SF. SAN FRANCISCO. SOMEONE SHOOT ME BEFORE I ONLY SPEAK IN ABBREVES. F MY A.

Today there are many a things I can’t say. So let’s talk about the things I can, shall we?

Here’s something I realized about myself: I create hypothetical situations in my head and then I give myself hypothetical solutions. For example, every time I walk past someone whom I judge to be homophobic, I imagine them saying something really hateful. Then I devise a hateful response that caters to something foul about them. For example:
ILWPWSABIRTTABR (see below): FAG.
Enraged James: Well, fuck you, you saggy tit bitch.
(ILWPWSABIRTTABR: Innocent Lady Who Probably Won’t Say Anything But I’m Ready To Tackle A Bitch Regardless)

I always do that. ALWAYS. In all sorts of situations. I have 9 insults up my sleeve some times. I won’t say “at all times” cuz sometimes I chill out, and I pull myself out of Thug Mode. I don’t know why I do that. I put myself on the defense. I want to be ready for any sort of crisis situation. I never want to meet a situation where I truly don’t know what to do. Apparently, this is my hypothetical solution to hypothetical crises. And yes, I have planned on swinging my water bottle on my spandex string in case I’m ever attacked by a gay hater. That thing would clobber a bitch. James! So thug!

My solution to this Crisis Barbie James? Hm. Laugh it off. Tell myself to breathe. But also commend myself on my creativity.

Ah fuck. Now, to be brave or censor? …brave

Today I got really really mad. But when I realized I was mad and totally wrapped in something new, something else that was super frustrating, I felt really good. Please decipher this.

When you’re stuck in a small pond, you don’t know what you’re capable of. Don’t limit yourself. You can have anything you want. And I will. Don’t you dare settle.

I’ve started doing exactly what I want to do. I watched Greys Anatomy by myself in my room tonight. It was really, really nice.

And Christmas was amazing. My grandparents are… saints. Life savers. I can buy a new pair of shoes. I only have 1.5 pairs of shoes that fit. This is amazing for me. New shoes. New footprints. New paths. Newnewnewnewnewrenaissancenewnewnewrenacer.

I am so sensitive. I really am. I’m reconnecting with that part of myself. I cry. I feel things deeply. Obviously. DOY! But I’m not ashamed.

I tear myself open every night. And sometimes it fucks me up. But I am cleansed. I get it out of me. It stops reverberating in my skull. And now it’s your burden. And hopefully it doesn’t depress you. Hopefully it enlightens you, or you find a way to enlighten me.

I am a happy person. And I will wait as long as I have to for me, but no voy a esperar para siempre para ti. Si no me quieras, no vas a recibirme.

Today I let myself be exactly what/who/where I was. And tomorrow I will let myself be exactly what/who/where I am. The goal is not to be happy 24/7. But it is to be calm. Hm. Maybe not the right word. Confident? ASSURED. Self-assured. Knowing that I’m going the right way.

I open up enough to hurt. And I’ll do it again and again and again and again and again. But not now. SO STOP BANGING DOWN MY DOOR TO DO ME. God! You should be ashamed of yourselves! Jizzing on me when it’s Christmas Eve. This is a holy day. Show some respect. Jizz Monsters.

I can’t always be the glue.

I am not holding back anymore. I am letting go of the upper hand. If I think you’re cute, mothafluck, I’ma tell you. I have nothing to lose. Life is not a power struggle. It’s a love game. Well, you can live like that but it’s not authentic. Fucking with people’s heads is… fucked. I’ll be straight-forward with you.

There are two types of promises: ones you can keep and others you can’t. You can’t promise feelings, but you can promise honesty.

“And I don’t sympathize, cuz you a simple bitch.”
~”Check It Out” by Nicki Minaj feat. Will.i.am.

I know it’s hateful but it’s such a good line.

JAMES the Blunt. (not like the joint)

I know it ended like RAR but it had some HAHA in it. You can’t have one without the other.

110. Clam Juice… (and I think we both know what I’m talking about)

The title is partly due to Kelley’s comedic brilliance. I shan’t take full credit. STORY TIME:

I was on the phone with Kelley and she has a cat and whatever. So the conversation started winding down and Kelley said, “Well, I think I’m gonna go to my room and play with my cat, and by “cat” I think we both know what I mean… my kitten, Molly.”

So I can’t stop listening to this Nicki Minaj song called “Save Me”. It’ll be the quote sometime. Maybe today, mayhaps.

I’m all discombobbled today. Here’s the picture:

Oh. Well, good thing they sell this. I make many a recipe which requires clam juice. I would make a disgusting joke but just be creative and make one up in your head. And then let me take credit for it.

SPEAKING OF. I made a pretty good joke at a dinner. We were eating ham and Leah had this unrecognizable chunk of somepin on her plate and she said, “There’s no way that’s going down my throat.” …You can imagine what I said after.

I don’t hate you. I’m doing my thing.

I was driving home and I just felt so good randomly. I felt so hopeful. And it’s not for what you think. It’s absolutely not. It’s just for whatever. For everything. Hopeful for the sake of being hopeful.

I saw a picture of Justin Bieber wearing some pimp-ass shoes and I want them hard. They’re like the blue ones that i have but purple. I.WANT.THEM.NOW.BIEBS. We obvi wear the same shoe size so I’ll just call him up and borrow them.

I got RoseBowl sweatpants! Cuz ya know, tis the season to pretend you truly know what the F the RoseBowl is while you secretly and repeatedly confuse it with the Dust Bowl. Damnit, me. Damnit.

I saw The Town tonight with Leah. Here’s a quote, “No matter how much you change, you still got to pay the price for the things you’ve done.” Sheeit I learned that lesson over and over again. And I’m still paying the price for some of the shit I did. Ya know, I bet the other people are over it. But I still feel bad. And maybe they’re not over it, but they certainly do NOT read this. But I still beat myself up for the mistake I’ve made. So. If that’s any consolation. I hope it’s not. You don’t have to hope I’m ok, but just don’t hope that I’m not. Hypocrite Hansen.

I’d like to propose a toast. I know it’s not the New Year yet nor the Eve. But. A TOAST: to not overthinking. To not always having control. To not always having the upper hand. To stop playing fucking games. To telling people how I feel. To honesty. To a slightly mechanical smile to produce thousands more genuine ones. To random hopefulness. To self-worth. To waiting. To patience. To re-dos. Do-overs. Clean slates. Fresh starts. To thankfulness. To gratitude. To rock solid friendships. To being lost. To uncertainty. To optimism WITHOUT the paranoia. To accepting that people want to get to know me for more reasons than being pretty. To fierce hair. To big stupid stupid hearts who refuse to learn their lesson.

“I came this way, all this way, just to say: This time won’t you save me. This time won’t you save me. Baby, I can feel myself giving up.”
~”Save Me” by Nicki Minaj

Don’t be subtle

James the Hoper for Hopesake

I will fucking wait like Fiona.

109. The Art of Cupcake Seduction

I know it’s super late after the day. BUT LOOK I’M DOIN’ IT, MA! NO HANDS!

Here’s the thing: it’s always been me. It’s always been about me. I’ve always been this way. I’ve always been struggling with myself. The only difference between then and now is now I talk about it. And it comes down to this: how I treat me. Treat me like F, I don’t care. But it’s about me and the decisions I make. For example, if I choose to keep hanging with someone who treats me like F-balls, then that’s me treating me like crap, because I’m settling for an F-er. This is totally hypothetical, bee-tee-dubs, as is everything I write. Fiction. Pure fiction, I tell you. BUT. It comes down to self-worth. Am I a three-cent hoe who deserves to be shatteth upon? Or am I a million bucks that I don’t know how to spend yet, or I haven’t found something that I really, really think is worth the investment? I think the answer is pretty clear.

AND ANOTHER THING *waves finger like a cray-cray*… God I hope that image makes sense. If it doesn’t, I hope you enjoyed creating it in your head.

If you enter my life and you affect me, you best believe I’m gonna write about it. BUT. I write about ME. I am saying how I am affected. Because that’s what I know. I’m not writing judgments on other people. I’m not telling other people who they are. AND. I’m not exposing other people’s secrets in an artsy way. This is totally about me. And it always has been. And I’ve always been careful to keep it this way.

I think that’s a really important distinction to make. Because my art is a reflection of me. I’m opening myself up, and I’m encouraging other people to do the same. I’m writing about other people’s vulnerabilities. Well, maybe I am, but it’s because they’re mine, too.

The other day. I saw Erik WORKIN’ IT. He was walking down the street in StePo by himself just rockin his shit to his iPod. He was beltin to some song, but he had no reservations. And to you, I say, “Fuck yes.” You keep doin’ what you do. Cuz that is awesome and so admirable. Work it out, Shawty.

I was freakin’ about New York the other day. I was like, “But MAAAA, WhatifIgoto NewYorkandsharearoom withCaityandthenI getatourandI havetomake herlivewithsome stranger thenwhathuhMOM?!?!” And she was like… “We’ll worry about that when we get there.” And then I took my voice out of treble…. I took my voice out of high treble and I chilled out. I chilt. Chilt was I. Thanks, mom. That’s what mommies are for.

Yesterday was Stacy’s golden birthday. HAPPY GOLDEN BIRTHDAY. This is some of what happened last night:

Caity attempted to eat a cupcake in one bite. It’s obvious that she failed. BUT. It’s clear that it was hi-larious. And so sexy. Lisa and I had a good laugh about it. The way she went about it was also super hot. She started as if it was gonna be super sensual… AND THEN SHE UNHINGED HER JAW AND SHOVED THE WHOLE THING IN. Holy F. Caity the Cobra, ladies and gentleman. The laughing was not confluent with the swallowing. (God, I hope you read that.)

Here are other things that went down last night…
Stacy: Oh yeah, that’s his Mickey Mouse voice.
Caity: Speaking of rape- this cat at work…

Um… hrm… EH?!?!?

As Stacy was eating her salad, her boyfriend, Mike, from across the table said, “Hey, baby, you look really sexy eating that salad.”

I didn’t know it was possible, but now I know it can be sexy to eat food. I’m not sure if it’s specific to salad. But Caity really nailed the point home when she was drooling cupcake juice everywhere at the end of the night. Boner-ific.

Ain’t nobody do it like us. 🙂

How am I gonna treat myself?

I am so so so glad to be home. Christmas, for me, is about family. It always has been. I’m your family.

OH. And if you need a good laugh: www.whenparentstext.com

“You don’t have to be a shell, no. You’re the one that rules your world. Oh, you are strong and you’ll learn that you can still go on. And you’ll always be a pearl. She is unstoppable.”
~”Pearl” by Katy Perry

“Nothing’s lost forever.”

JAMES the not-lost-forever.

108. Baby Do Battement!

I AM DONESIE BUNSIES WITH THIS SEMESTER. RAR. I am such a monster.

And now when I sit here to write about it, I feel like I can’t even remember what happened cuz it happened such a long time ago.

Well here, this happened today. A friend of mine needed my help, and I was there. I made a difference today, and that feels good.

And I watched Sex and the City 2 with Meagan and Katie. And at one point Samantha blows off a guy to be with her friends, and she says something like, “We’re soulmates”. And God, I have to believe that. I have to believe that this is happening in my life right now, and I can’t believe it’s just a fictitious movie situation. I will grip my friends with bloody fists, and you will have to pry yourself from my life. Because I mean what I say, and I say, “We are soulmates”. We have to be.

Ben left today. It was the last time I’ll see him for a while. Until showcase goes out to NY in May. And I cried. And I thought, ‘Fuck… this is gonna be REALLY HARD in the spring. Shit.’

Today I was walking to the library, and I saw this car sitting at an extremely inconvenient angle in the middle of the road. She must have been turning the corner when her car died. She was literally sitting in the middle of the intersection. And the poor girl was just sitting in her car texting. I’d assumed she’d called someone, and they were on their way. But til then, she just sat in the “safety” of her own car. And I didn’t stop to help cuz… what would I do?? I guess I could’ve helped push her out of the middle of the road. But for some reason, that didn’t occur to me. So I kept walking. And as I walked past people would honk their horn at her and speed away. And she just sat there with her head down. And I thought, ‘Why the fuck would you honk your horn? I am fully confident that she knows she is stalled in an inconvenient location. And I don’t think she needs you honking your horn at her.’ And you know what? These people honking their horns, they just honk their horn and drive away. But if I was that girl, I would spend the rest of my day thinking about how so many people honked their horn and drove away. How I was such an inconvenience and people honked and yelled at me. But those people who honked probably got over it. And I’m sitting here feeling terrible that I didn’t do anything.

Don’t use your horn. It’s such a silly invention. It was invented so you could be ruder louder. And if you’re about to get in a car accident and you honk your horn, chances are the accident is going to happen anyway. God… poor girl.

Love makes people do such stupid things. Unless you’re in love. Then it makes you do lovely things.

I’M GOING HOME TOMORROW.

Thank God, Meagan left me with this:

Well, do I need to explain this? And naturally, Ben carrying on as normal in the background.

Oh and you don’t read this, why would you, but Happy Birthday(s). 🙂

I’m not an asshole.

And this: I don’t think you’ll ever know everything about someone. Jian Li has been my friend for the longest, and I think I know her really well but I don’t know everything about it. I think I could most likely answer any question you asked me of her, but I would never assume that I know every single detail. I think it’s condescending to assume you know someone backwards and forwards. People are too complicated for that. I mean, I don’t even know myself that well. So why would I assume I know anyone that well? And I think intimate relationships are that way. It’s not about knowing every single aspect of that person. Yes, it’s nice to know the things that can be said, but you can’t know everything. So you take what you get, and hopefully you love what you get. And yes, maybe you know things about me I don’t know. And maybe vice versa. But I really don’t think the end goal is 100% knowing the other person. But I’m not sure what the end goal is. I’ll get back to you on that.

“They say we are the chosen few. But we’re wasted. And that’s why we’re still waiting on a number from the modern man. Maybe when you’re older you will understand why you don’t feel right, why you can’t sleep at night now. In line for a number but you don’t understand, like a modern man.”
~”Modern Man” by Arcade Fire

Everything is so temporary. The good shit AND the bad shit. THE BAD SHIT IS TEMPORARY. James, you don’t have to worry about marriage. That’s such a long, long distance from here. LONGGGG. “Until then, we’re Teague and James.”

JAMES (and you)

I know how to tell you I love you.