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Today is so not the start of a good day.

Woke up to the news of the absolute massacre in Colorado and I still can't believe it. Aside from self-defence, I can't comprehend being able to kill another human being, but especially just killing random innocent people for no reason. How do you walk into a theater full of people and just open fire? Women, children, babies; just shoot them at point blank range? I can't even read or watch too much of the news coverage because it makes me furious and sad. All I can think about are the people who lost someone or the people with wounded loved ones and can't find or get in contact with them. That must be the most terrifying feeling ever. I hope I never have to be in a situation like that. My heart goes out to everyone in Colorado.

Days like today make me really hate people. All this craziness today and George Zimmerman talking all this "God's Will" bullshit yesterday is just too much for me to handle. Why is this man not dead yet? I hate to play the race card because I'm Black, but damn. If George Zimmerman were a Black man and his victim were White, his ass would have been under the fucking jail already. Why is this man still walking around, giving interviews, trying to scam himself some money when a child is dead? Does no one else think this is insane? There is so much fucking scum walking the streets, just waiting to prey on innocent people. All the more reason why NEVER to have children. I wouldn't dare subject my child to the fucking hate and ugly, evil bullshit that is the state of this planet. It would end in tears.

Also adding to my state of distress is the fact that my job doesn't do direct deposit, so I can't pick up my check today, which means one more day of being broke and trapped in my house. And when I say broke, I mean like nothing. I couldn't make a call from a payphone if I had to, I'm that broke. And did I mention that my gas light is also on? I understand why girls whore themselves out to rich guys. It's nice to not worry about bills and gas and money, and the only thing you have to do is just live. If I didn't have some kind of morals and if the thought of having sex with an older man didn't completely make my skin crawl, I could see myself being one of those gold digging girls. I'm decent looking, college educated, no kids, and it seems like the only people who ever hit on me are old men anyway. I'd be a shoe-in. Just give me all your money and go away. Thank you very kindly.

I'm just aggravated, as usual. I think I spent most of my time these days being annoyed in some shape, form, or fashion. Is this what it's like to be elderly? Always cranky all the time? Ugh. I think it's a sign that I'm just getting old as hell and I don't like it. And my lack of money and the depressing news today is making me want to officially become a hermit. Or just give in, and become the Crazy Cat Lady, even though I don't really care for pets at all. That way, my forced anti-socialness will have a reason.

The only good thing that's keeping me from jumping off the roof of my house, and probably end up with a broken leg or something, is my upcoming trip to New York. I'm excited to get out of my normal routine and see something new. The city is the perfect place to escape from my lame-ass life and pretend like I'm interesting and cool. You know, like I actually have a life somewhere. I've already got my wardrobe planned out and we just bought our tickets. This year will be big since this is my first trip without the parents. How exciting. I sound like a 16 year old who's planning on throwing a houseparty when their parents leave town. How sad is my life?

Oh, but wait, I definitely need some money to go on my trip. There's no fun to be had if you're too broke to do shit. I'd sell some of my clothes to Plato's Closet, but I already did that this month to pay my cellphone bill. By the way, Plato's is an absolute anal rape of a rip-off. They give you like rubles on the dollar, not even pennies. I have half a mind to go there once I get a good pay check and buy all my shit back. You can't sell blood anymore, can you? But I hate needles. Le sigh. Same old shit, just a different day. No money, more problems.
Yesterday, give or take from whenever this actually gets posted, was Mother's Day and I didn't really have much thought about it until this morning. I'm not sure what got me going, but I just realized two things: 1. As awkward as I feel saying this, and part of me thinks I just need to get older and mellow out a bit, but I'm seriously not sure if I will EVER want to have kids, and 2. Being a parent is nothing I would wish on my worste enemy. Now, let's get to the details.

I'm in my late 20's and for a long time I've been afraid to say out loud that I might not ever want a baby, husband or not. That's such a serious thing to say and I'm scared to make a major statement about something that I could completely change my mind about, which would make me sound like the biggest wishy-washy flake. Also, I feel like society just assumes that all women want to have babies or that there must be something wrong if you don't want children. Not true. I also couldn't imagine being so crazy, head-over-heels in love with another person to actually want to procreate. Spending the rest of my life with another adult is one thing, and there are days when I'm not sure if I could tough that one out for too long; but bringing a crying, pooping, helpless baby into the mix sounds like a good way to sabotage a relationship.

Then let's factor in all the disaster and utter devistation that a baby can do to your body. I could weep when I think about it. Wanna scare yourself off from ever having sex again? Go to the website The Shape of a Mother. Scroll through a few pages and see it that doesn't make everything about your "personal situation" shut down. The wreckage that a single baby can do to the human body is frightening. And do as many ab crunches and cayenne pepper/maple syrup diets that you want, but there's no physically coming back from some of that shit. Like there is some serious "clutch your pearls" pictures making the rounds. Now your once upon a time six pack looks like the vinyl siding on a house and after a few rounds of breastfeeding, your tits look like tennis balls inside of wet tube socks. I greatly commend this website for keeping it ALL THE WAY REAL and showing you that not everyone's body snaps back like Beyonce's in a few weeks. Hell, there are women with kids in middle school still talking about trying to loose their baby weight. Or if you're in a crunch for time, just google "Bryce Dallas Howard post baby" and have a good look at the pictures of her in the blue sweats. Get an eyeful of those shots, especially the side-view. Drink it all in. See that baby she's holding? The baby is 4 months old and this woman is NOT CURRENTLY pregnant. Meaning that nearly 6 months after delivery, her body looks like that. I already have a V.I.P. reservation for a place in Hell, so I'm aware of the impact of my words, but when I saw those pictures, my only thought was "JESUS, FIX IT!!".

Before you giggle and point, that could very well happen to you or me, and those are the thoughts that will haunt me in my sleep. No offense to Bryce. I am human and I also know how hard it is to loose weight, so I'm not trying to clown on this woman at all, but I would personally throw myself off the roof of my house if I looked like that after I had a baby. Or just die from utter depression. This is real life staring you back in the face and it scares the shit out of me. Would you be cool with this body shape? Would your partner? Not that you should have to look any way to be in a relationship with anyone, but I couldn't imagine loving myself or anyone else looking like that. And I know my shallow ass would kinda resent the baby for making me look that way, and that just starts a whole cycle of crazy.

Most importantly, regardless of your physical being in the aftermath, you still have the job of raising this little ball of life, and that's the hardest job in the universe. Not saying that there aren't fabulous fathers out there who love and really take care of their children, and not just monetarily (my own wonderfully, perfect dad is a gold-star example of one), but there is nothing like being a mother. It just has to do with that bond that you make with a person who's literally living inside you, but there's no love like a mother's love, as corny as that sounds. And even after you raise them to 18, 21, 25, whatever; I'm not judging since I have my own personal situation; it doesn't matter how old your kid is, you still worry about them like they're five. That emotional attachment never leaves. Being a parent is also like pulling the handle on one of those slot machines; put in your money and cross your fingers but you could still end up being a loser. You can do all the loving, caring, and nurturing in the world and your kid could still grow up to be Charles Manson. Every ax murderer has a mom and a dad too.

I don't like doing things that I'm not good at or things where I can't win. Parenting seems like too much effort and risk for not enough reward. Or like a crappy job that has no benefits, sick leave, vacation time, or pay raises with long hours and more stress than should be put on a person. On the frivolous side of things, I like sleeping in, I'm kinda lazy, I don't wanna clean up anyone else's mess, I don't really like sharing anything, and frankly, I just couldn't be bothered. I'm not sure if or who/what could change my mind, but right now, I'm good with being on the "thanks, but no thanks" side of the line.

Im conclusion, to all of the mothers out there, you have my utter respect and I will keep you all in my thoughts and prayers because I wouldn't trade places with you in a million lifetimes. You're doing a thankless job and you deserve a parade and fireworks. Or an entire day of peace and quiet, whichever works better for you.
Song lyrics by Mary J. Blige

I'm still here, plugging along, trying to hold onto my newfound optimism. Most days are good and I feel like I can turn over this new leaf, but on days when I feel like I'm being surrounded by love and marriage and all that gooey crap, I feel like raging. Like just smashing something and not giving a fuck. Since I'm in a sensitive place, I feel like I'm hyper aware of some things. Like today, I was watching a mini marathon of "Hart of Dixie" on my DVR, and one of the female characters says to a male love interest "I love you and I'll wait for you for as long as it takes" and I immediately protested. How come a man never says he'll wait for a woman, but women are willing to sacrifice for a man? When does a man become vulnerable and open to a woman? I'm not saying that I want the man to be a cry baby, but I want him to be able to show emotions and not be scared to talk about his feelings. Also, the matchmaker Siggy Flicker says that the man should love the woman just a little bit more than she loves him. I wonder if that's possible in my life. My previous track record isn't looking too good, since I'm usually the one who falls first, loves hard, and struggles to let go. I don't think a man like that exists, and I'm sure if I met him, I'd probably think he was a wimp. Damned if you do and you're damned if you don't. What can you say; I'm a woman and I want it all.

Sad to say nothing much else is really going on with me. So much for the swinging singles' life. Summer's coming, so I'm glad for the good weather, but I haven't done a damn thing workout-wise since leaving my last job. I'm worried that I'll get fat again, and being the thinnest that I've been in years is one of the few good things I have going for me. I need motivation, and a rich partner because this working shit is for the birds. I hate not making enough to be able to do anything that I really wanna do and being stressed about bills and my lack of money. Let somebody else deal with that. Being a "grown up" sucks ass and all I wanna do is have fun, be free, and spend someone else's money.

I read about some website that sets up "sugar babies" and "sugar daddies" for financial benefits. If you ask me, it sounds like letting a bunch of pervy old men fondle you in exchange for dinner and a diamond tennis bracelet. As tempting as that sounds, I couldn't do it. I personally think that large age gaps between couples is odd, depending on how big the gap, and it makes me wonder what they have to talk about. And the thought of letting some middle-aged man feel me up makes my skin crawl, and I'm nearly middle aged myself. I shouldn't be discriminating against the group of people who will soon be my only options for potential mates. I'm sorry 40 year old men, but I'm too scared to let you near me. I'm fearful of your salt and pepper hair, the smile lines around your eyes, and your expanding waistline. It feels like getting hit on by someone's father, which he quite possibly is, and it makes me cringe a little. Maybe once I turn 30, I'll be more open and willing. Or maybe I'll be 30 and so desperate for love and companionship that I'll be ready to date anyone regardless of their age. I'm sure that as I type this, my soulmate is probably celebrating his 40th birthday right now. Ugh.

Okay, I'm out. There's nothing more to say and it's late. Tomorrow is another day.
As a sidenote: John Mayer, how do you manage to take all the thoughts in my head and string them together to actually make sense? He's a genius.

Today, on another episode of "Days of My Life", things are moving right along. I've been feeling really fragile these past few days, but I've been trying to keep positive in my thoughts and words. Because of this, I feel like I've been kinda quiet. Does this mean that I'm always negative and skeptical?

In a step backwards, I overslpet this morning and didn't go to church; I know my dad is annoyed. He and I have had very brief talks about my attendance and it's basically strongly advised that I attend every Sunday. He hasn't talked to me at all today even though I wasn't really here for most of it. I'm sure that this is not the end and I'm dreading it. Part of me wants to be in church because it's the right thing to do and it makes my dad happy, but part of me doesn't give a fuck. Religion should be something voluntary and be done with a willing heart, but on the other hand, I don't feel like God is doing a damn bit of good in my life, so why should I sit up there, clapping and going through the motions, when I don't think any of this "good news" applies to me? It's hypocritical and I hate that. Still, this is my parent's house and I have to respect their rules. Caught between a rock and a hard place.

The Ex who I've been having some issues with called out of nowhere today and the very short conversation ended kinda rough. Not even gonna lie, I overstepped and acted like a jealous ex-girlfriend and he totally called me out on it. I got my feelings hurt and I cried for a second like a loser. I hate being a woman sometimes. I hate that I love hard. I wish I had the ability to just turn my emotions off like men do. It might make you seem a little insensitive, but being too sensitive is what got me where I am right now. I need to toughen up. Actually, no I don't. I need to stop fucking around with dickheads.

Rather than sspend the rest of my Sunday afternoon hanging out, feeling sad for myself and all weepy with a marathon of "My Fair Wedding" to torture me, I decided to go out for coffee and to cheer myself up. I went to Starbucks, had a frappacino, and read. I haven't done that in a while and especially not alone. Then I went to a friend's house and had some male bashing and wedding talk. It was nice to speak of anything wedding related and not end up crying when it was over.

Naturally, anything gold can never stay and like an idiot I returned Ex-boyfriend's earlier disregarded phone call. It started stiff, but like always, we got into it. Our issue is that he doesn't feel like I support him, but if I think you're wrong, what sense is it for both of us to look stupid if I lie and agree with him? I think lying to your partner to soothe their ego is wrong in the long run because I wouldn't want my man to be smiling and nodding at me when in his heart he knows this is gonna blow up in my face. Like two summers ago, I started reading Steve Harvey's book "Act like a Lady; Think like a Man" and I'm sure this was mentioned. But how do you pretend to be supportive when you know things are gonna get ugly? And then once they do, how do you pretend to want to comfort your partner when you think they're a moron who brought all of the drama/heartache/bullshit on themselves and the only thing you're thinking is "I told you so"? Popping off at the mouth without thinking is a problem for me and sometimes the "I told your motherfucking ass" comes out before I can catch myself. Ladies who have partners, how do you just sit back and play that role?

Regardless, my arguement did nothing to change the situation and I was very harshly reminded that he and I aren't together. I felt humiliated because I figured I would be the one doing the dumping/breaking up part. It kinda sucks being on the other end. I kinda cried about it, but it only lasted for about two minutes. I don't know if that means that I might be slowly pulling myself out of the mud or if I'm just regaining a grip on my sanity since my period is over. Talking to him did put a damper on my good day and that annoys me a bit. I shouldn't let a person who's clearly not trying to be in my life affect it so much. Strong, independent people don't let others influence them. I doubt that Beyonce or Gabrielle Union would be getting all fucked up on the inside over one other person's comments. But I'm the "nice girl" and I'm use to being liked all the time, by everyone. I was the kid in high school who parents wanted their kid to be friends with. Being rejected like this is strange for me. It's like my brain doesn't commute this kind of information. This is a major malfunction for my self esteem.

So to make myself feel better, I listened to Drakes's "Trust Issues", washed some dishes to distract me, and now I'm watching a DVD of the best of "Designing Women" and looking for new phone cases on Ebay. I'm also brain storming ideas for a new story idea. I've been thinking a lot about getting back to writing, but I haven't put anything down yet on paper(or computer). Since I've been so down these days, I'm worried that my foul mood will sink into my stuff, but then again, if I'm writing it, I can make my characters as flawed or as perfect as I want them to be. If only I could invent my own man like I do in my stories. Also, for the first time EVER, I erased the ex-boyfriend's number. I've never done that to anyone I've ever dated and so many times, I've thought about getting rid of his number before but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Finally, after I teared up, I decided to officially, at least on my end, to stop the madness. I use to have his number memorized but since things have been awful between us, ovbiously, I haven't been calling as much as I use to. It sounds like nothing, but this is a huge step for me. Now, no matter how pitiful and desperate that I feel and no matter how good the memories were, I can't call and beg to get back together. I figure it will save me from looking stupid and feeling dumb like I did earlier tonight. I will thank myself in the long run for this.

In better news, I have tentative plans with some of my former coworkers to go out for dinner and drinks for Cinco de Mayo. Sounds like a prime opportunity for drunk dialing and tearful begging. I'm already glad I erased his number. Delete, delete, delete like "Shit Black Girls Say" (by the way, I'm sure most of you have heard of "Shit White Girls Say... to Black Girls" which is HILARIOUS and I swear it's a direct page out of the book of my life, but watch "Shit Black Girls Say" and if it doesn't remind you of at least one person you know personally, I'd advise you to broaden your horizons. Go to YouTube immediately and educate yourself). I'm looking at this little bit of phonebook editing as the gift that keeps on giving, and the more I think about all the drama and heartbreak that I'm avoiding, I feel better and better about my decision. Like Madonna says "absolutely no regrets".

Okay, lets bring this to a close. It's getting late and I'm acting like I wanna do something productive tomorrow, so I should get some sleep. This is the first time in a few days where I haven't felt like "whoa is me" and throwing my own pity party. Does this mean that the positive thinking is working? I'm sure it's too soon to tell, but so far, so good. Let's just try to keep on keeping on.
For once instead of having to hunt for an appropriate song lyric/title, this one actually found me during the car ride home from work. And to think, I usually skip this song.

Speaking of Kanye, I think I'm going to try and adopt the "can't tell me nothing" mentality. After like a four hour long talk/discussion/little bit of yelling (it's how we show we care in my house) with my mom, I've decided to mostly eliminate God from my life. My mother thinks that I'm placing the blame for things on God and not trying to make my own good luck. I don't think that I'm blaming God; I'd like to think that I'm holding Him responsible for all the goodness and blessings He's suppose to be giving out to those who follow the rules in the Bible. I'm also sure that my last sentence was complete blasfemy and it will only further send me down the road to Hell. I'm hoping that God has a sense of humor.

Let me clean that statement up. I can't eliminate God from my life. I believe in Jesus and God and I know that a Higher Power exists because I sure didn't evole from a chimp and all this chaos that is Earth didn't just magically fall into place because two rocks smashed together. I realize that there's more to this life, but I can't figure out how to get God to fit in with the rest of my life. From what I understand about Christianity, it just seems like life is nothing but heartache, grief, misery, and moving from one drama to another but they (Christians) keep going because they're thankful to have breath in their bodies. Praise the Lord. Fuck that shit. It just seems like an existance of breathless servitude with no reward except possible eternal life, and even that's not a given. No offense Lord, but that's not really my bag. I need a solid commitment.

I just can't see how I can manage to be the person that I want to be and to be happy while still being a "good Christian". That makes me sound like being myself means coke binges, orgies, and animal sacrifices. I wish my life were that exciting. So I've decided to stop trying to stress how God fits into my life and have decided to try and simply think more positively. Instead of scorning God because everything is shitty and fucked up, I am seriously gonna try to put a positive spin on things. I've been told, and I've noticed too myself, that I'm very negative and pessimistic. I'm always thinking of what could go wrong and how terrible things could be. I'm so ready for things to be bad that I could be knocking myself out before anything could actually happpen. Besides, what do the Christians say? "You have to speak it into existance."

So far, this positive thinking is really hard and it's only been like three hours. I watched "Don't be Tardy for the Wedding" and every single time I saw Kim flash that giant rock on her hand or Kroy would just be so sweet to her or when she was ordering a $58,000 wedding dress and planning to get married at her big, fabulous house, I had to verbally, out loud say to myself "If Kim Zolciak can get married to a nice guy, I can too." I said it like 50 times in the course of an hour and I cried twice. It also made me re-think about watching any of my favorite wedding shows ("My Fair Wedding", "Say Yes to the Dress", and all that. Not "Bridezillas" because those heifers are crazy and they make me feel better aboout myself. But on second, thought, those bitches are out of their minds and they still found some poor sucker who wants to be with them forever, and I'm spending my nights snuggling up to the warm glow of my laptop screen and repeats of "The Golden Girls". That didn't sound too positive, did it?), but if I stopped watching my shows, how would I plan my fantasy, billion dollar wedding that will only happen in a completly alternate universe and then what else would I do with the rest of my life?

In the same vein of all this Mary Poppins positivity, I've started re-writing my list of qualities for my perfect man. I wrote one on a humbug like ten years ago and sadly, have not dated a single person who had any of those qualities since then. Since I'm going to try to make a new me, it's time I made a new list. I need to find that old list and see if anything has changed. I think the things that I want will still be pretty similar, but I'm sure my bullet points of what I DON'T want will be a million miles long. Picky, picky, picky, I am. I've heard quite a few people (celebrity and civilian) talk about how they wrote down their list and like magic, when they were least expecting it, boom, their perfect soulmate just walked into their lives and it was love instantly. Or something of that nature. Either way, there was a list involved. So, I'm gonna have a list too and my soulmate will come too. I'm keeping my fingers crossed while I say that, but in the back of my head I'm thinking, "That will never happen. This will never work. Things like that do not happen in real life. Soulamtes do not ex ist or at least not anyone who'll be the mate to your soul. Get real and get a real job." But that's not positive thinking.

I started talking crazy and mentioned that I might go out by myself tomorrow night, but I'm more than possitive that Friday night will find me sitting on my ass in pajamas, eating, and getting emotionally conflicted by episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress". I wonder if I could find my soulmate without ruinning that dent my butt is boring into the couch cushions. According to "Cosmo" and "Glamour" and all those ladies magazines, going out by yourself shows that you're confident and it supposedly makes guys wanna talk to you because you're not surrounded by a force field of friends. I think it'll just make me look like I don't have any friends. Still, all that was just talk. I doubt any action will come of it.

My mother still suggests that I try online dating and we all already know how I feel about that. I'm just not to that point yet. Maybe when I feel like I'm really desperate; no offense to those who are cool with and stuff, but the thought of going out with a stranger of sorts really scares me. This person could be anyone. At least meeting someone through a friend or something means that if the guy is a nutcase, I can trace him back to something. Did that make sense or am I just being paranoid? And yes, I know they fill out a profile, but people lie on those things all the time. I need a bsckground check, two forms of ID, and a character statement. Show me the reciepts, mother fucker. Besides, I'd need to fill out a profile myself and I can't sum up the fantastic-ness that is me in a few 140 characters per question. I don't make the best first impression cold; people need to experience me to get to know me. I grow on you, like fungus.

I've also decided to try and do more things that positively benefit myself. I figure it'll give me something to focus on besides my fleeting youth and the fact that I'm inching closer and closer into being a lonely spinster or a bitter hag and maybe it'll earn me a better body that I can share with no one. But at least I might still look cute in my new bikini. I'm also gonna try to write more. Write here more and work on my stories. My mother thinks I'm destined to be this great author. I've never finished a real story in my life. One of her friends is in some book club and she wants to send the mess that I've written to them to read and for feedback. I'm not so cool with that idea. For starters, no one has ever really read my stuff and I'm terrified of critism. Two; my stories are like 95% fan fiction, which is corny and shameful to admit, and three; I never really wrote anything for public consumption. My stories were always just that: MY stories, for ME, and me only. Letting other people read them wasn't the plan. And did I mention that nothing I've written, outside of school assignments, has an ending. Basic writing teaches you that a story has a beginning, middle, and an end. I'm missing a major part of the chain.

Part of me is scared that I'll be ripped to shreads or that copies will get out and all these random people will be reading my shit and mocking my writing, and just thinking about that happening makes me break out into a nervous sweat. On the other hand, another part of me is like "whatever" about it because I kinda feel like nothing will really come of it, except maybe getting my millions of loose pages bound into a proper book to sit on my shelf until one of my (hopefully) future grandchildren will find it and read after my death. Mom says I should write something from my life, but I don't think I have any wisdom to share with anybody else. I need some wisdom from other wiser people myself. Now, if you need snark, sarcasm, and a smart mouth, I'm your girl. I think I need to wrap this up because I feel like this could be going on a downward spiral of negativity and I'm honestly trying to make this work. I need to have something to anchor myself to, and me and God are two ships passing in the night at the moment. Positivity is going to be my new religion. I hope I can be faithful. Wish me luck; I'm gonna need it badly.
Song quote by Kimya Dawson

Same old shit, just a different day.

Back to complain about my usual, except with a side of religion. I'm gonna be completely honest because I'm sure nobody is (still) reading this journal and I just need to let it all out. There's so much bottled up shit floating around in my brain and my heart that it's like, vent or die. So, here goes.

I'm having a hard time finding a place for God, as I understand Him, in my life and, as always, I have nobody to love. My parents, especially my father, have a strong belief in God and they're always encouraging me to find my own relationship with the Lord in my life. God, just writing that and reading it back made me sound like one of those crazy religious Holy-rollers. I hate overly religious people that are always going around saying "Praise the Lord" and "God bless you", and all that bullshit. It seems so forced and fake and makes me think this is all an act and that same person is gonna go home and smoke crack and have sex with hookers. I'm not a saint, never will be, and I'm quite positive that there's still a reserved spot in Hell waiting for me, but I think I'm a halfway decent person and I wish God, or whoever is up there, would acknowledge that.

I do believe in God and a Higher Power. I'm familiar with Jesus and His Father, I believe in karma and that whatever you put out into the universe will come back to you, but I don't personally feel like God is playing any positive part in my life. Nothing is ever just okay. If one aspect in my life is fine, there's always somewhere else that's totally fucked up. Nothing is ever completely cool; something is always wrong. Why is that? If God is so kind and merciful and loving, how come I never see any of these things? For once, I'd like to wake up in the morning and not be stressing about money or work or a car or weight or my lack of love life or anything else. How can I put my total, blind trust in God when I feel like He doesn't give a fuck about me?

Religion is not a bargaining chip and religion doesn't work like a give-and-take type thing (at least I don't think) and I know that you can't play God like He's a friend giving you the hook-up or anything, but I need to see something concrete from God that says "Hey! I see you there and I've got your back". Now, I know there's the usual obvious stuff that all the Jesus people say: "What about your health? You're alive and physically and mentally able. You live in America and you're not hungry, homeless, or hurt. God woke you up this morning and others didn't. Things could be so much worse; there are a million things to be thankful for." Yeah, yeah, yeah. ALL of these things are true, but what's the point of being alive if you're miserable and unhappy? You'd be better off dead and stop taking up space and breathing free air. I don't think God created man to just be content with what we have; I think He wanted us to be motivated to do better for ourselves and life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness and all that lot. So if I want better for myself and do things to make that happen, why all the constant set-backs? God is suppose to help those who help themselves, and I'm doing that, but I never feel like all of the work shows any resullts. Like dieting and working out like crazy and still being a fattie. I just feel like God is constantly giving me the middle finger.

For once, I actually had a real reason for being M.I.A. for so long. For the past six months I had a second job. It was part-time and supposedly seasonal, but it was another pay check and a chance to stop bitching endlessly about being a broke-ass loser. What started as a dollar sign turned into such a great experience. I was forced to step out of my comfort zone a bit and I met so many wonderful, funny people who I hope to keep in touch with. And as an added bonus of vanity, I lost 15 pounds just from not sitting around as much. YAY! How shallow does that make you if "weight lose" is one of the pro's of your job? That being said, as always, I need to meet this stranger called "the gym" that everyone talks about. Maybe I can sweat out my anger. Well, just recently, that job ended and I really want another one in the same area back beccause I already miss the money, mostly the people, and I'm secretly stressing about getting fat again and have begun weighing myself like mad, even though I've made no effort of going to work out. I've also seriously just bought my first new bathing suit in ten years; it's a string bikini and I just wanna be cute and look like the "cool girls" in life.

On the flip side, not long before I lost my second job (I'm still teaching my kiddies in my afternoon job; glad that I still have that so I'm not totally unemployed), I did get my own car!!! All kinds of fireworkks need to go off for that because I went 22 months since my car crash and have been totally car-less for the past 9 months and been driving my mom's car and her being stuck inside so I could get to work. It was a tedious, sometimes agrivating time for her and me. Finally, about a month ago I got a new car. Not a NEW car, but an upgrade of my old one. Same car, same color, same year I think, just this one is a convertible. Can't even lie and say that it's not cool. I've only driven with the top down a few times because the weather has been so wishy-washy here these past few weeks. I need a solid sunny day, a good mix cd, and sunglasses to get a chance to really cruise. I guess now I'll have more time to make that happen.

So I had a second job and it seemed like I finally got the car to get to the first and second jobs easier, but that bubble burst. It was like, things were finally falling into place and then God snatched the rug from under me, as ALWAYS. That's how it always works for me. I moan about things being terrible, I finally get motivated/fed up and do something to fix it, things begin to improve and I finally feel like I might not be the world's biggest disappointment, out of nowhere everything goes to shit, and I'm back at square one. WHAT THE FUCK???? The endless cycle of sadness/build up/possible happiness/crash is so... disheartneing. Like, what's there to be glad about? What's my reason for smiling? I'm always looking and waiting for the ball of awfulness to drop and no matter how optimistic I try to be, that train is never late and always smashes me flat. Like damn God, can't you give a bitch something to hold on to? I finally felt like I might be getting my life under control and making steps to be an actual adult, not this oversized 15 year old that I've been living like, and maybe be someone I could be proud of and it's falling apart again. Can I ever get a break? Will I always feel like a loser? Why doesn't anything good in my life stay that way? Like that Stevie Wonder song "nothing gold can stay".

I've been in contact with a recent ex-boyfriend and things are so crap that it's not worth talking about. People are ex's for a reason, but I'm stubborn and like getting my feelings hurt. It's my personal version of S&M. I wear my heart on my sleeve, you stomp on it, and I come back begging for more. It's like the hurt is so familair that I'm confusing it for love. If fighting and hurt feelings and tears are all you know, it's hard to break the habit. Also, I'm a person who likes routine and my comfort zone, so I'm a repeat dater. I re-date ex's because I'm comfortable with them and I don't have that intial awkward, grossly sweaty period of getting to know someone. New people scare me and I don't have a people-person personality. I have to warm up and get to know people before I can stop being a polite robot. Boys aren't attracted to fem-bots. They want personality and character. Um, no. I'm still fanning at my pit stains in the corner to even show anyone my personality. I'm gonna get some botox and get that fixed.

I'm looking for love in all the wrong places and I teeter back and forth between anger and bitterness or grief and dispair. I'm either sneering at all things love and being the first person to say something negative because love is all an illusion that tv and movies make you believe exists, when in reality nobody loves you, the world will shit on you, and fuck your feelings. OR I see all the sunshine and happiness and snuggles and love and think that none of all those good things will ever happen to me and I'm already Google-imaging pictures of kittens so I know what kind I want when I become a crazy cat-lady. I don't wanna be a 40 year old bride and a 45 year old mother of a toddler. I'll be old and dried up by then.

I'm gettting to the point where I might consider marrying a man who I knew was gay but really loved me. I'd get the cuddles and companionship that I'm looking for without any of the complications of sex. He can have a boyfriend on the side and I'll work things out on my end. Happy wife, happy life, right? Whenever I'm not being a raging bitch, my usual outlook is to have thrown in the towel on the love department. I think I'm trying to mentally get comfortable with the idea that love/marriage/maybe baby carriage might not be in the card's for me. Everyday I find one more reason why I don't think a serious relationship would work out for me, so maybe that's why my lack of love life is so prominent. I don't like sharing the remote and I have my required tv shows to watch, I don't like sharing my personal space, I'm bossy and I like having things done my way, I'm spoiled and always think I'm right, I don't want anybody more than 2or 3 years older than me and no more than 3 years younger, no ex-wives, and Hell Mother Fucking NO to kids, I'd prefer him to be college educated, a somewhat decent job, his own car, come from a decent family, have a good relationship with his mother (it shows you if he has respect for women or not), and be spontaneous, adventuresome, caring, and funny. No one is gonna be a great catch and be willing to put up with all of my bullshit.

My mother, who always means well, is still wishing a Fug-Mo into my life. She's still stressing personality, personality, personality, and I''m having none of it. I spent 2o years being an ugly duckling; now that I'm a swan, I want whatever the male version of a swan is too. A guy's personality is the ultimate thing, but I wouldn't mind having something good to look at as well. Besides, from the little bit of observation I've done, all the cute guys are dicks and the nice guys look like Franklin the turtle. And that's certainly a problem. Who cares how nice the guy is if you aren't attracted to him and don't want him to touch you? Continuing on the shallow side, I'm actually kinda scared that I'm gonna turn down my Soulmate because He's not cute and then I WILL be a cat lady. Nightmare upon nightmare. What's worse: Not having a soulmate or finding him but being so turned-off by his outward appearance that you can't focus on the good things? That sounded really supperfical and terrible, didn't it? That's why God is punishing me: vanity.

This negative outlook on my own personal love life has made me become a more compassionate person in regards to my judgement on others. I use to be one of the main people clowning on Kim Kardashian and her revolving door marriage and how she goes from guy to guy. I get it now. She's in love with the idea of love and is hunting for her soulmate. I see lots of qualities in Kim that I totally recognize in myself. I'm also in love with "love" except I don't have quite the success rate of Kim. She's had several failed relationships, but at least they were actual relationships. I don't even know what to call the unfortunate series of events that could vaguely be described as more as elaborate games of cat-and-mouse than relationships. She just wants all lovey-dovey stuff that most women want: marraige, husband, babies, potental happiness and she's not scared to go through a few guys to find it. Me too, but I think Kim's got a better shot at it than me. So now that Kim's been spotted around town with Kanye West, I'm not giving her any grief. She's just a girl looking for her happily ever after. Good luck Kimmy! You're gonna need it.

Back on the religious note, I feel like God will only give you want you want if you submit to His will and do everything He says, no sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and no fun ever unless it involves Bible study and lots of prayer. Like exchanging one thing for another. I worry that I'll meet someone I like who might actually like me back (which would be a miracle unto itself because those two things usually don't go together in my life. Usually, I like someone and I doon't exist to them or they, which are mostly nasty old men with pot bellies who hang out at gas stations, like me and I'd prefer not to do more than say "hi and bye" to them. Mutual attraction is very rare in my world) but he turns out to be this huge Bible thumper who will guilt trip me because I'd rather sleep in on Sunday and ask me where I'm gonna spend eternity. I worry that I won't be able to be myself and who I really am and still get someone nice who really likes me. Like I have to exchange one thing for another. you can't have your cake and eat it too.

So times like this, I'm shaking my fists at God. Why aren't You listening? Don't You see my tears at night? Am I ever gonna be happy? Will I ever feel normal? Not everyone on earth is meant to get married and have kids: maybe I'm one of those people and I just don't know it yet. Will I learn to accept my solitary exsistance with grace or will I always be angry and bitter? I'm so scared that my mostly negative outlook will block me from whatever goodness that might come my way, but on the other hand, I feel like I have nothing positive to build on to keep hope alive, so to speak. Give me a sign that things will the good. Give me a fucking sign that God is actually listening.

All my life, I've heard that you have to yeild to God's will and if you trust in him, everything will work out. Is it my human weakness that feels like submitting means not being myself and because I won't submit properly, why everything in my life is screwed up? I have so many questions and I don't think that anyone can actually answer them. Patience isn't one of my strong points; maybe God is torturing me to teach me that good things come to those who wait. Maybe all of this is just one big lie that I keep telling myself so that I don't have to face up to the actual fact that I will forever be alone. And if that's true, I wish God would let me know that so that I can stop getting my hopes up only to be sadly disappointed.

It also doesn't help that I'm currently on my period, so tomorrow my hormones could have shifted again and I'll be totally fine in the mornning. I'm just always on the verge of tears and my emotions are all over the place. I just want someone to hold me and give me cuddles and listen to me when I complain and love me. I want someone to bitch to and to talk about my day with. I want someone to have plans with and to make memories. I want random surprises and someone who thinks about me for once. I want long weekend and corny couples' pictures. I just wanna be loved and happy and I don;t ever see that happening to me.

I'm seriously in tears now and I feel crazy, but it's all spilling out. I'm tired of feeling alone and ignored. I'm tired of acting like I believe in God when I feel like God only exists to make me sad. I don't feel like God loves or cares about me an I'm annoyed that my parents guilt-trip me into attending church when I know that God is not present at all in my life. Nothing good will comeof this and I should stop thinking that anything good or nice will ever stay permamently in my life. Life is shit and shit is my life. I'm tired of moaning about being miserable and alone. I'm tired of hating myself and my piece of shit that I call a life. I'm tired of never being happy and never being good enough for anything. I'm just old and tired in general. Tired of fighting, tired of crying, tired of being lonely, just tired of things always being fuckedup and never feeling like I'll ever find happiness. I'm over all the bullshit. Fuck everyoone and all that comes with it. I'm going to bed before things get any worse or I say anything else stupid.
What is the world coming to?

I feel like a granny for saying that, but seriously, what the fuck? People don't have jobs, the cost of living is high, the education system is pumping out drop-outs, and gay folks still can't have the same rights as straight people. When is all this stupid bullshit going to end?

I'm in my mid-twenties and I'm, personally, a little frightened to have children one day for fear that they'll have a shitty teacher and not learn anything. Thanks to Oprah and the movie "Waiting for Superman", I learned that it only takes two consecutive years with bad teachers and your kid could be academically fucked for life. On top of the fact that I see on an almost daily basis the effects on kids who get passed along in schools because of that crap-tastic No Child Left Behind law and get to high school and can barely read or have no basic math skills. Failing is an indication that the kid didn't learn anything; why would you "place them" in the next grade up when they don't have the skills to advance to the next level? I'm sure that the person/people that put this law into order aren't sending their own children to public schools. How can our country be great when we're creating idiots?

Speaking of public schools, I just read an article on Yahoo! about Mexico protesting the new immigration bill in Georgia. The new law, starting July 1, requires police to check the immigration status of anyone they arrest, will make employers check the status of new hires and make it a crime to pay illegal immigrants at a place of employment. Mexico and a bunch of other South American countries are suppose to be working to get this law stopped because they want to "ensure that its citizens present in the United States are accorded the human and civil rights granted under the U.S. Constitution". Um, okay...

Now, I don't know all the legal redtape and all the details to this whole fuss over immigration laws and enforcement, but I do have an opinion based on what I do know: send the illegals home. I am an equal rights supporter for everyone and I don't think anyone should be discriminated because of their color, sex, religion, origin, sexual preference, credit score, academic record, or anything like that, but I don't think that it's right for people who are here illegally to have to same rights and benefits as a legal American citizen. Because if I took my Black ass to Mexico without a passport or some other sort of legal documentation, you can best believe that I would be sent to jail faster than you can say "Somebody call my lawyer". No questions asked. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Yet, someone can cross the border, have a baby, and sign up for welfare and other benefits that I, a legal tax payer (whether I want to or not), are paying for. So why should people who aren't here legally be given the same rights under the U.S. constitution when you're not a U.S. citizen? That just doesn't make sense to me.

And please don't even get me started on people spending 20, 30, 40 years living in America (usually illegally) and not being able to speak the language! If I moved to France, the people there would expect me to speak French because that's the official language; they wouldn't have all these interpreters and have things translated into three or four different languages because in France they speak french. And if you can't speak french or don't care to learn, then you're shit outta luck. Last time I checked, in America, the official language is english. If you decide to take up (legal) residence here, I think you should learn to speak english. Is it really that much to ask? Stop catering to people when if we went to their native country, they wouldn't be catering to us. If this country stopped rewarding people who are breaking the rules, I feel like our country would be economically in better shape. For those people who enter this country properly and go through the correct steps to be granted citizenship, I welcome any and all with open arms. America was built by people from other countries who came to our shores and went through immigration the right way. Those are the people who deserve free health care and education, not someone who snuck in the country and then had an anchor baby to reap the benefits.

Also, because of this article, I learned that back during the Great Depression and after World War I and II, the president in office at the time created laws that deported all the illegal immigrants to make jobs for Americans who needed them and for servicemen coming home from defending our country. I'm not sure how this was accomplished, but I'm not thinking that it's too bad of an idea. Part of me feels bad because I know that there are people who are risking their lives to come to America because they're escaping hardship, but do it the right way. And can we please stop granting automatic citizenship to babies born to illegal parents? If I went to Mexico illegally and had a baby there, ME AND MY BABY would be getting deported. Other countries have their own immigration laws that they uphold and enforce; it would be nice if America could do the same.

I'm sure this will be an ongoing debate and I know that some people will disagree, but I do hope that it will expose people to what's really going on in this country and in the world today. Oh my God, I am officially an "adult" after this rant. I feel old, so to make myself feel better, I'm gonna go listen to Britney Spears, go read some celebrity gossip on Crunk and Disorderly, and do something frivolous, like shop at the mall. God Bless America!

P.S. And don't think because I was naming Mexico I dislike Mexicans; there are illegal immigrants from all over the world in this country and they should be deported too.
If you are a baby mama, date a man with a baby mama, or are currently going through some baby mama drama, stop reading this entry immediately! I'm about to voice my opinion and it's not going to be politically correct.

I don't want used goods.

About two weeks ago, me and my mom were having a chat and the topic of dating came up, which, naturally, lead to some debate. We were talking about dating preferences or something of that nature and I said one of my dating rules was that I don't want to be involved with a man who has kids. Apparently, that's not an okay thing to say these days. Why the hell not? I can't even count how many times a man has said directly or indirectly that he doesn't want to date a woman with children; why can't I have the same standpoint? I'm over 21, working, have no kids, and have never been married. Is it wrong that I would look for the same qualities in a man?

My basis is, I was raised in a two parent household and only have one sibling. No step-siblings or half-siblings, and I want the same upbringing for my own children. I'm not trying to knock anyone who was raised with a step-parent/sibling(s) or a half-sibling(s) because I know that life isn't prefect and almost nothing ever goes according to plan. Life is messy, but I want the same family unit that I had for my own future kids. Also, it ties back to my own selfish reasons.

Frankly, I really don't like children in general and I don't want to have to share my time with anyone else. I want to be the center of my boyfriend's life. I have to be the star, and me and my Boo can't wine and dine as long as we want to if you have to get up early to take little Tyrone to t-ball in the morning. I need all of your focus to be on me. I like having my way and I never had to share growing up and don't plan on starting now. Besides, I feel like when you have a child, especially a young one, you need to devote all your attention to them, so dating shouldn't be on the forefront of your mind. This is not to say that if you're single with a kid, you should become a nun until the kid turns 18. I just want to be first.

When I get married, I want this to be the FIRST time for BOTH of us. When I have a baby, I want it to be OUR first baby, and OUR children, not, well, these are our kids, and he has a child from a previous relationship. No. I know that if I married a person with a kid (which I very highly doubt would ever happen in five billion years), then I should rightfully accept this child as my own, but I don't want to, because it's not mine. Also, what if I like the guy, but can't stand the kid? Or if the baby's mother is a crazy bitch and hooking up with you means that I have to deal with her? And I don't want the whole baby mama/child support/visitation bullshit to worry about. I want a man who is clean and fresh and new, so to speak. I want to experience these major milestones with a person who hasn't been through it before. It's not gonna be the same in the hospital delivery room when the baby's born if this is your second or third time around. No used goods!

Both my mom and sister said, what if you date a guy and after you get involved with him, he tells you that he's got a kid, what would you do? I honestly couldn't say what I would do. I'm not saying that I'm shunning people who had a child at a younger age, but I wouldn't really qualify you as serious dating/marriage material. This is gonna sound really bitchy and ugly, but I don't want the hassle or the baggage. Relationships are hard enough with two people, but to have to involve his child and baby mama in the picture also is just too much for me personally. My sister said you shouldn't hold a person's past actions against them, and she is totally right. Having a baby at a young age isn't a crime and I don't think that fact should make or break any future relationships that person has. I have a friend who has a baby out of wedlock and I'm sure she would want to get married one day and live happily ever after like the rest of us. Everyone in America should have the same chances and opportunities to find their happiness, but I know that I couldn't be happy in a relationship with a person who had a child. I feel like I would resent the kid because it's a walking, talking, living, breathing, permanent reminder of your former relationship and I wouldn't want that staring me in the face everyday.

I'm sure this is going to get me some negative feedback, but I just think my no-kids rule is a personal preference. Like some women want a tall guy, or somebody who likes reading comic books and watching the Discovery Channel, or are looking for a dude who has lots of tattoos and piercings. It's just something that you have a particular liking for, and I particularly like boys without kids. Is that so wrong? I also get grief because I've already stated numerous times that my wedding (one day, if I ever get lucky enough to get proposed to) will be a no-children zone. No kids at the ceremony OR the reception. It's MY DAY and I want all of my guests to relax, have a few drinks, and party. Hire a babysitter or don't come. If necessary, I would seriously hire someone to stand at the door and turn people away if I had to. My day, my way. No kids allowed!

Okay, bring on the comments.
I am so fat.

There. I said it. I'm totally bullshitting on my supposed "diet" these days, since I go to the gym twice (sometimes) a week and yet still continue to eat like a hippo. And water is a forgotten friend since I've completely relapsed and been strung out on Pepsi for weeks. I swear they put crack in that shit.

When I told my sister that I needed to get my weight up, in all senses of the word, she brought up an interesting point: Why am I ALWAYS whining about "I have to get skinny for spring', "I need to get in shape for vacation", "I need to look fierce for Halloween", or "I must be cute for my birthday", when I should just get my act together to live well and be healthy in general? I seriously can't crash diet for the rest of my life. But it's so hard to break the habit. And I have a tendency to get back in shape then gorge myself. It's a vicious cycle.

So, for the billionth time I'm sure, I'm vowing to clean up my act and as Oprah says, "Live my best life". Being fat is stressful (fashion-wise) and depressing (self-esteem wise). Nobody wants to marry a fatty.
Saturday was the first memorable good day that I'd had in a while and it ended so annoyingly messed up that it kinda ruined my day as a whole.

To begin with, I FINALLY got paid, so having some cash is always a good way to start off a weekend. I stayed in on Friday and got up early to work Saturday morning. I work every Saturday morning and I complain about it, even though it's wrong and I have no reason to bitch. Thankfully, the morning went fast and then I left work to meet the Mommy and my sister to go shopping. I raced back to Target and my William Rast jeans were still there. I got a boot cut pair and they make my butt look cute. I need to get the skinny jeans. More stores followed, but I don't get anything.

Later on that night, my homie Tiffany asks me to come and hang out at this house party that one of her friends was throwing. It was out near Griffin, like 20 minutes away, and I would have had to drive myself, but I wanted to get out of the house and house parties are almost always "interesting" if nothing. So I gassed up the car, bought my share of beer; it was a B.Y.O.B. event, and drove down there. The directions to get there were excellent and when I arrived the place was packed. There had to have been fifteen to twenty cars and you could hear the music before you could see the house, which was set back in the woods. I get out and do a quick survey of the place: bonfire; check, lots of people holding beers and shouting to be heard; check, inappropriately dressed girls; check. Things were going well.

I find Tiffany and we do a slow lap of the place. The kitchen was crowded and the entire table was covered in alcohol bottles and cases of beer and of course, everyone had red cups in hand. I made myself a cranberry and vodka, making sure to use a bottle that wasn't opened yet- germs and all- and we squeezed through the house, looking for cute boys. We posted up in the basement where all the music was coming from and people watched/gossiped for a while. Nothing terribly exciting, except for a guy I met who had three different other guys names tattooed on his body and a drawing of a penis(seriously) on his calf.

All in all, it was pretty blah, and after I went back upstairs to use the bathroom and saw that the group of people in the kitchen were standing against the back wall getting darts from the dartboard thrown at them, I decided to call it an early night and go home. Twice, the party's hostess gave me directions on how to get back to the main road, but we all know that I'm severely directionally-challenged. I could get lost in a paper bag. So, naturally, I get my directions mixed up somewhere and got lost.

Okay, things were bad from the word "go". The house was back in the woods, so I had to drive down his narrow, pitch black, gravel road, and I just knew that Leatherface was waiting to pop out with the chain saw and slice me to ribbons. It felt like I was driving on it forever and then my phone signal kept blinking out. I finally came to a street sign and it was saying a road that I know I didn't pass on the way in and when I tried to turn around, I just ended up getting even more lost. For a second, I really considered parking the car and having a quick cry, just to relieve some stress. I kept calling Tiffany, who was a little tipsy, so therefore, absolutely no help, and I was getting freaked out and pissed off.

I HATE, hate, hate being lost, especially in the dark, out in the woods, by myself and I was seriously driving around praying to be found. I didn't pass a single car the whole time. Just when I was ready to have a nervous break down and just wait for daylight, Tiffany calls me back with some real help. Her friend, Jason, who I've met before and is kinda good looking, gets on the phone and I'm hysterical. He says all forceful and manly, "The first thing you need to do is calm down and do what I say" and it was like a verbal shaking by the shoulders. It made me take a deep breathe and stop babbling. It was sexy. If I wasn't so panicked, I would have asked him to tell me to calm down again, except say it slower. It was hot.

Like a knight in shining armour, Jason gave me perfect directions back to the main road and then he called back a few minutes later to make sure I was okay. The whole ordeal was so dramatic and traumatizing, that I went to bed as soon as I got home. Getting lost completely ruined my evening and killed my mood. I will never set foot in Griffin ever again, unless someone else is driving.