Archive for if you ask me…


if you ask me, one shouldn’t look at things as “signs” of something else. it just gets very confusing, and more times than not, you end up losing sight of the big picture.

last night joe and i were having a… discussion about the fact that he is thinking he might want to move back to portland sooner than he thought after being done with school. i always said i could go there for a few years, but not forever because a) i love l.a. b) bad weather depresses me REALLY bad, and c) i am beyond close to my family. right now i am really loving my work, also, which is new for me and i am hoping to build a foundation from that.

the idea of not being with joe in the end hadn’t really crossed my mind,so the conversation really shook me.

when i got home, my mom told me my uncle had a seizure and we rushed to the hospital to be with him, my aunt, and my cousins. i took this immediately as a sign that i can never leave. i couldn’t even imagine being so far away at times like this, when my family does what it does best and rallies around each other for comfort and strength.

then, i thought of my aunt and uncle and how they are one of the very few couples i know who i truly admire. their marriage just really seems to work and after all these years they love each other so much. one would be incredibly lucky these days to find that in their lifetime, and if i truly feel i have found it, which i do, i would be a fool not to hold onto it for dear life, to go to the ends of the earth for it. could this be a sign?

truthfully, all i care about now, having just gotten home from the hospital, is that it seems my uncle is making a full recovery from the incident last night, and all i hope for is that the following tests show that he is out of harm’s way.

but it does have me thinking. i’ve looked for love everywhere my entire life, hoped for it, prayed and wished for it. in searching for a sign, i always forget to see the path in front of me. this time i don’t know where it’s going to lead, but i do know that i don’t have to choose which kind of love i want, or hold it down in place. it won’t go away. it won’t disappear as long as i nurture it from within and point it in the right directions, i know this.

it flows back. it never ends.


if you ask me, building a relationship can be like working with clay. i know it’s a bit cliché, but it’s just true.

in the beginning, you hold it in your hands and it just feels so good. it is unusual, slippery, wet, gritty, solid, pleasing. and it moves with you, warms to your touch as you mold it.

with a little work, it will become the perfect vessel for two, to be filled with all the loving things both of you can conjure. you know this, you have planned it all out. you can picture the shape in your minds because you know it in your hearts. it’s simply a matter of making it real.

but if your hands are idle, you will feel it start to harden in them. maybe you were too unsure, and you hesitated a bit too long. now you have over-manipulated the clay, your vision is blurred, and nothing feels natural anymore. your hands have grown weary. you might be able to still shape the vessel, but when it dries, the cracks will show. they may be too large to mend.

would it even matter what you put inside it then?

i read a book when i was little that said broken pieces of pottery can be added in with the fresh clay, and it will make the new pots stronger.

stronger and stronger.

i can only hope this is true now.


if you ask me, celebrity stalking by the paparazzi has finally gotten completely out of hand. i know celebs and people that have to live/work near anywhere they go have been saying this for years now, but today on the web i saw a new picture of poor, beleaguered miss britney spears that really pissed me off. it was another upskirt. granted, spears did behave pretty irresponsibly not that long ago when it came to her vag and a short skirt, but these pics were so creepy on the pap’s part. it was as if they attached a camera to a stick or something and really got under there as she was walking up some stairs. she was actually wearing panties this time, so now the big story all over the internet is that spears has a hairy ass crack because of some questionable fuzzy, shadowy stuff on her, well, ASS CRACK in the pics. now, i will admit that i was among those who gleefully condemned her as “disgusting” when she flashed her bare kitty flaps to the entire world two (three?) times within a couple of weeks a while back (you will note that i am not posting ANY of these pics here. you can google them, if you want to be morbid). what has changed, you ask? well, i definitely think if you KNOW there are going to be throngs of photogs ready to take your picture at every turn, for better or worse, it is kind of up to you to wear underpants and exit a car like a lady/cover that shit with your handbag. however, deliberately walking around with a camera trying to get an upskirt of someone then selling/posting an extreme close-up is basically sexual harassment and i don’t think that should be tolerated, no matter how careless the victim has been in the past. imagine if you were walking around in a summer frock, a week or so behind on your bikini wax, and someone snapped a pic of your slightly wooly secret places? the hair on the derrière happens to grow back rather quickly, and that could happen to any of us! present company excluded, as i am naturally smoother than a newborn playboy bunny down there. yeah…

anyhow, speaking of smooth, remember when bluetooth headsets first came out and we all made fun of those douchebags that thought they looked sooo cool using them? well, it turns out the joke is on us. i mean, it’s on me at least, since i never learned how to use one of those things and as of tomorrow i will be required by law to wear one while driving if i want to talk on my cell phone. don’t get me wrong, i definitely agree with the law, as i am totally that girl most likely to piss you off or even die in traffic while talking on my cell/smoking/fucking with my ipod. it’s definitely necessary, i just don’t know how to use the damn thing! i got it free with my phone ages ago and can’t find the instructions. plus that’s ANOTHER thing i have to deal with re-charging constantly. laptop, cell phone, ipod, ipod shuffle, camera, vibrator and now this? life is harrrd! jk.

i’m pretty sure the world is going to come to an end soon, and i welcome that, quite frankly.


wise up

if you ask me, age does matter. i’d like to think i’m pretty hip, but i know full well that i am almost totally out of touch with a lot of people in their early twenties, even though i’m only (only! as if) 27. this age is a little funny because it’s definitely a kind of small milestone. when i was a kid i was often considered a bit precocious, then into my teens and early twenties i was “wise beyond my years,” which was a compliment, certainly. but now, as i enter into undisputed adulthood, into my pre-thirties and thirties, i wonder of there is a such thing as being wise beyond one’s years at this point. i mean, yes, there is a level of sage that one can always aspire to, which hopefully will grow with age, but once you get to a certain point, i imagine that you should just be wise. 

and then there are those to which true wisdom never comes, regardless of age. which brings me to this fun link to a blog called things younger than mccain, which i first read about on one of my favorite blogs gaycondo. this blog is basically a list of things that are younger than presidential candidate john mccain. it is funny, informative, and kind of scary, as well as admittedly ageist. i can’t imagine this guy actually getting elected, but i guess nothing would really shock me at this point.


if you ask me, “high-maintenance” women are not given nearly enough credit. time and again we are demonized as materialistic, overbearing bitches who never get our fill of things like diamonds and love.

first of all, this is rarely true. i, for one, don’t even really desire diamonds at all. i mean, sure they are pretty, and i wouldn’t kick a dildo with a diamond-encrusted handle out of bed, but i’m more of a funny things found on the ground and cast-out furniture kind of girl. i guess it’s true that i can never get enough love, but love is free.

secondly, i’m not so much “over-bearing” as “fucking hilarious” and “generally knowledgeable”. i will admit that i like things done my way, for the most part, and i am used to getting my way, at least in matters of the heart, remote control, and restaurant choice. the funny thing is, though, that i don’t mind compromise, can always admit when i’m wrong, and in that case am genuinely sorry.

it isn’t any easier being high-maintenance than it is dealing with someone who is. life and people can be very frustrating! in addition to that, at least in the case of relationships, the person who is choosing to be with the high-maintenance person can choose not to be with that person. they can walk away at any time. on the other hand, for example, i cannot walk away from being high-maintenance. this is who i am. many people have found it revolting, and many people have found it charming, it all really depends. for some people, being with a high-maintenance person gives them the charge and challenge that they desire. it makes them feel good and they make us feel good. and for that matter, being high-maintenance and being a giver are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

anyway, without we fierce, high-maintenance girls in the game making those tepid, easygoing, tediously agreeable girls look more desirable to those who have grown weary of trying, who would want to bother with one of them at all?

a bay bay

if you ask me, rappers can do whatever they want. i don’t see why any rules apply to them ever. look, i’m not one to go around thinking other people are much better than me, but ALL rappers are just really fucking cool.

case in point: once (not recently) i was referred to as “giiirl” during a sex act. okay, look, no one is allowed to non-ironically call me “girl,” especially not while i am fucking them. omg, UNLESS you are a rapper, a hot, sexy rapper!

spilt milk

if you ask me, there is definitely use crying over spilt milk. first of all, it’s fucking frustrating when you have put any effort into something, even lifting and pouring a carton, and it all comes crashing down. secondly, in these modern times of high regard for health, who is to say the milk in question is not some kind of non-dairy alternative milk such as soy or rice milk, or even almond milk! these milks are expensive as hell and i for one would not be pleased with the waste of what would essentially be about eight ounces of my hard-earned cash. and finally, there is just something really emotionally stirring about the spill itself. how poignant to be standing there, unremarkable, dumbfounded, as the rich, white rivers race across your kitchen table, arriving to the floor in the manner in which these things most often do: beyond your control, without your permission.

missed opportunities

if you ask me, if the early bird gets the worm, there must be something really special waiting for the late bird. maybe a nice grilled salmon with dilled roasted potatoes, or a hearty vegetarian lasagna. i don’t know, i have never really been a fan of breakfast anyway.


if you ask me, crazy people are a lot less crazy than normal people. normal people think their lives are super-important and that they have something to contribute to society, therefore they run around the world wreaking emotional havoc on those around them, and doing stuff like “working salaried jobs” and “falling in love” and “buying multiple toothbrushes at once.” scoff scoff, i say! crazy people know that their place in the world is to think too hard about shit that makes no sense, like if the last slice of pizza feels lonesome, or what it would be like to live in the tiny world created after a rainstorm, when the drops fall from the roof into a bucket, dripping over onto the green grass. and being alone, so alone, but never hurting anyone with their foolish aspirations.

lose/lose situation

if you ask me, being a part of a larger “friend group” is overrated. there are so many politics and so much coordination and drama involved in the whole thing, i say it’s almost better to go without. i would almost prefer to lead a solitary life. like a lone wolf. a deeply scarred, foresaken wolf posessing exceedingly low self-esteem and questionable social skills, who throws parties with notoriously low-attendance.