I'll take a pic and post it if I get up the nerve.
I went alone and cried like a bitch. I kept my hand clasped over my mouth the whole time because I was sobbing like a baby. The tattoo guy was very nice and massaged my back and gave me a break every few minutes. I'm not a pain wuss. I swear. I think I just need a little meat on my bones. The tattoo is on my rib cage/side boob area, and each little stick felt like the needle was literally punching through my rib cage and out the other side.
The first night was a nightmare. My sheets were soaked from sweating & my entire body was sore (it took a while to walk down the stairs to go pee).
Stuff the cool kids don't tell you.
Right now it sort of feels like a centralized fire. And it itches. And I'm going alone to Punta Cana this weekend solely for swimming. Swimming in salt water. Great plan.
It feels slimy and gross so the tattoo guy promised to clean/put the cream stuff on it every day after work for me. He's holding up his end of the bargain so far. It was nice of him to offer - should I offer to pay him for the extra care?
This song is for the coward who abandoned me when I needed him most. After all this time, I still can't believe I trusted you implicitly.
I was just going to post a few lines, but I couldn't find a specific set of lyrics that are more apropos than another. Every single line describes exactly how I feel.
Honestly, I haven't decided what my Father would think of my proposed new life & lifestyle change. If I thought he truly supported my wishes in spirit, I would absolutely risk disbandment from my own family to follow what I consider the right path for me instead of the inertia of the path an honorable daughter will follow. I know what "unexpected" is for the family I have. I'll never know what "unexpected" would be for the one family member to whom I'm most loyal.
Made more hygiene kits for the homeless
just in time to find one of my favorite people
in the world, Rog (Roger).
He's moved to a different underpass.
Is it odd that friends and coworkers are suddenly giving me things? People who are unaware that I'm leaving are giving me really cool stuff. One older coworker boxed up and gave me her earrings just because I'd complimented her on them the day before. A friend's friend - who I always considered kinda mean - gave me a hot pair of shoes because they're too small for her. Another person gave me his Starbuck's reward card because he's dieting. He has gold status. That's like 1 million free white chocolate mochas. I'm receiving these gifts through the kindness of others. It feels like there's a message or lesson or direction in there somewhere for me, but the "screen" is all foggy and will continue to loop around until I figure it out, or it dissipates. Makes no sense, but better explained in an earlier post.
Whoa. I just remembered - last night I dreamed that my Father warned me that my car's gas tank was almost empty. He was sitting in his favorite chair in the family room.
Odd and random.
Addicted to terraforming in Second Life. Stop by for a visit.
I've quite lost my mind.
My sister made this meme of
my mom and posted it for
every relative in the
universe. She thinks
it's funny. I think imma
punch her in the face.
Okay, ladies. The boys are distracted for a bit. Let's talk real talk.
Let's talk about period blood flow. Does your period ever flake out on you? This month, mine came a full week late. Further proof that my mother was actually right, and that my eggs really are drying up. Which means I need to pop some grandkids out within the next couple of years.
And here's another question... On the 2nd night (which is, as you know, the worst night, right?) I got home really late from work. I ate some popcorn, took a shower and passed out in my bath towel. I literally could not wake myself up enough to get up and put on a pad. I actually mumbled, "Oh, PLEASE don't mess up these sheets. I love these sheets.... ZZzzzzzzzz..."
Guess what...I woke up the next morning and...nothing.
So what does this mean, leadies? Is it physiological? Is period flow a mind-over-matter thing? Omg.
Oh, speaking of controlling our bodily functions, there's this new app called RunPee.
So you know how you go to the movies and right when the good part is starting, you have to go pee? It's a big fiasco. Well there's this sweet new app called RunPee. This app is badass, ladies. You tell the app what movie you're watching, the app syncs with the movie and then tells you the best times to go pee. Omg, right??
I supposed I could've shared the RunPee tip with the guys, but...honestly, screw the guys. They pee standing up.
Next thing: Two years ago my friends paid a male dancer to pull me on stage for my birthday. I was pissed at them - mostly humiliated that they paid for it, and he poured hot wax on me after I told him not to. I learned after that there's a special wax for kinky stuff...this wasn't it. My chest was red and sore for a while after. So I kinda lashed out at him by calling him a name. As mentioned in a previous post, I saw him again last year, and he definitely remembered me.
I saw him again two days ago at this snobby neighborhood supermarket that I usually stay away from. The customers are really snobby. Even the cashiers have attitudes. But it's the only place that sells my favorite bottle of moscato. Apparently, he lives in the neighborhood. And for whatever reason still remembers that I called him a name. Is that odd, or am I wrong? He must get insulted at least once in a while on the job.
I mean...he is short. He's like 2'4". Okay, not really.
So I apologized with more humility this time and explained that I was really angry with my friends and took my anger out on him.
Missin' N'awlins.
Then he went into this whole rant about how his new girlfriend is twice as hot as me and how she knows how "f*ckin' big" he really is.
I was standing behind him in the check out line while he continued his rampage. I was so confused. I think I might have dropped my shopping basket. lol
*shrug*
So now I feel even worse. I feel bad for calling him a name, which was childish and careless, and then for getting him all riled up again the other day. Should I have left it alone?
Speaking of strippers. ladies...Magic Mike XXL.
Two words.
Cheetos. And water.
You're welcome.
Illegal in-movie recording. #loveit
Yeah, I've seen it twice. Jealous?
If you're in the metro Detroit area, there's a new shoe store in Madison Heights that sells pretty pumps for...TEN DOLLARS!! Omg. I still managed to spend $82 there. They have men's shoes, too. I'd tell the guys but...screw the guys. They pee standing up.
Next question. Why do we have to work harder than men to be acknowledged at work? I mean REAL acknowledgement. Like pay raises or inclusion.I have 5 huge projects happening right now that I'm solely responsible for. I'm planning/executing every facet of:
employee talent show (next week)
employee lunch with the CEO (tomorrow)
employee health fair w/26 vendors (two weeks)
managers' yacht cruise for 200 managers and +1s (Monday)
...I can't even remember what else atm
All of this involves all sorts of communication, branding, posting, phone calls, triple counts, and don't even get me started on the yacht fiasco.
The only cool thing about not having time for friends is that my phone stays charged for days. Waking up to a phone on an almost full battery when you didn't charge it is like a small little win for the day. Sigh.
A coworker in another department and I report to the same exec. He's constantly in the exec's face. He'll resolve some little issue, like helping an employee fix something, and he'll spend hours in the exec's office bragging about what he did. He interrupts my meetings with the exec, he sits down at our lunch table and talks about his day. It's really obvious, and I'm not sure why the exec puts up with it.
Other than because he's a guy?
Seriously. If we did that - stalked our bosses and complained about our days - we'd be seen as whiny, moody, high-maintenance.
But my coworker? In the past year, he's received a raise, an employee recognition and a promotion.
Double standard, ladies. Seriously. Wtf.
A guy I use to be interested in had a girlfriend all along. How'd I find out? Cause I'm a stalker.
SMH. He was lying the whole time.
Well, he's a guy. So...yeah.
I can't stand my BFF's boyfriend. He's cheated on her numerous times. All of his friends are fully aware of his shenanigans. And he's sort of blatant about it.
Exhibit A
Boyfriend has a motorcycle accident and is taken to the hospital. One friend contacts my BFF, unaware that another friend has contacted the other girlfriend. Both show up at the hospital, and fireworks ensue. Boyfriend pleads with BFF to take him back, and - to my befuddlement - she does.
BFF and boyfriend go on vacay, and BFF complains to me that boyfriend texts someone else the whole time. And he only posts pictures of himself or with other tourists - not with her. Turns out he was texting the other girlfriend the whole trip and adding that he was on vacation with his buddies...not the BFF.
Exhibit C
He's been in and out of jail, he's in a gang, He has way too many guns - all illegal. He has a stupid temper.
I can't stand him. And she's well aware of that fact. She knows I want to twist his testicles into balloon animals. So she keeps us separate. Which sucks because I lose my best friend for a lot of the time.
I don't care that he's 6'2" or brags about his auto-whatever guns. I'm not afraid of him, and it only takes one second for me to go from 0 to 60 when I'm in protective mode. I'd like to say I stole that trait from my Father, but alas, it's all my mother's. She's like a little chihuahua.
But it's the BFF's life. Not mine. It's her fate to make.
Yesterday at lunch, I asked her for the hundredth time to help me understand why an insanely beautiful, strong willed, independent, smart woman like her would ever want to be bothered with this clown.
And then she gave me "the look". It's the look she gives me when she has to explain something about the world to me. Finally, she got all exasperated and said, "...because he has a big d*ck."
Some coworkers and I painted and decorated some apartments for new residents as part of an amazing community outreach program called NSO, and then held a welcome party for them. Part of NSO's program involves providing homeless citizens with apartments as they try to reenter the workforce and normalize their lives.
We pooled some money together to buy home furnishings, and used the slowest freight elevator ever to cart everything up. This included couches, microwaves, blinds, shower curtains, bed dressings, dressers. Sounds expensive, but we found a few couches at a resale store, and an electronics store manager hooked us up with great deals on microwaves and televisions. Sinks, stoves, fridges beds, and showers were already provided.
And then yesterday, we held a welcome party in the gym for the new residents. There was a raffle for our PWAT paintings (I guess when you're just starting to decorate, you'll take anything lol). Our culinary department chipped in big time with a truckload of delicious southern foods. Even the mac & cheese was good. And I'm picky abouts my mac.
This sounds like a lot of work, but there were 7 of us to handle things. It was all done within a week, And I got to eat chicken wings and cornbread and collard greens and sit & chat with some of the funniest, nicest, most appreciative people I've met in a long time. The only problem was that we expected them to take the rest of the food to their rooms to save for later. Unfortunately, their seconds and third servings of the heavy food left them lethargic, and I think they just wanted to pass out on their new beds. So we were left with half a truckload of food that had to be tossed.
Check out the guy on the scooter. He's a speed demon!
In other news, ITS BOY BAND WEEKEND, BITCH! That's right! A full 3 days of the best boy band jams ever. I already lost my voice and messed up my ponytail jamming to Larger than Life on the way to work yesterday.
Aww, yeah!! You know you love it!!
I rented a cute old school bike with a basket today...was too lazy to haul mine around...and rode the shoreline to the Electronic Music Festival (sweet website). My head still hurts.
Rereading this, it's completely narcissistic. I'll leave it for now, and hope my next post doesn't come off so whiny.
----------------
Technically, I was supposed to move back to Japan after college, get married, have children. I've been stalling for time ever since. I could always thwart my mother's half-hearted attempts to remind me of my familial responsibility. A new career opportunity, some community commitment, our property here needs attention, new friends. Whatever works for a few months.
My brother has sighted a chink in my armor. The threat of discarding my Otosan's old things that I would most cherish. It's the best way to turn me into a giant sobbing mess.
spider monkey.
For every stall I give him, he throws away something that belonged to my Otosan. Yeah, in that order. Not an exaggeration. He plainly states that he will, and then he follows through. A phone call to my mother from work the next morning always confirms it.
I don't find long term value in jewelry or property or karu or 401k plans. The most valuable assets for me are seemingly insignificant possessions.
Like the fishing rods my Otosan used to teach me to catch hamachi along with an early lesson in humility and perseverance: If we didn't catch anything that day, we wouldn't eat.
Or the rusty used canoe I helped Otosan seal when I was 8, now neatly stored in my mother's shako.
Decidedly irrelevant possessions like these are rare and priceless because...
Sigh. I believe that each item holds within it a small piece of a person's spirit. If I fish using my Father's tackle, his spirit will sing to me. I won't just be fishing; I'll be spending an afternoon with my Father.
And a chance casual conversation with my brother (also my HOH) about spring cleaning showed him how important those things are to me, and gave him the opportunity to use them like a jagged knife.
He is so much like my mother - clever and singularly focused. My diversion trick doesn't work on him. He won't be distracted from a point. Who knew the skinny boy sobbing on my parents' bed with fresh welts on his back would grow up to become so power hungry?
That reads exactly like the back story for every villain in every superhero movie. Ever.
But also, I'm faced with my own kegare. With every stall, I'm plainly stating that I value my freedom more than I value my Father. And my brother gets to twist the knife just a little to the left.
Aimlessly wandered Bourbon Street in an attempt to try all the popular "take out" drinks and collect all the cool cups. A cute and funny and charming and quite persuasive Irishman wouldn't give me back my phone until I agreed to have breakfast with him.
Thank goodness for filters.
*Courtyard
*Wacky bed decor
*Room service
*Ominous streets...my fave!
*Remnants of hand grenade/diner
It was circa "North by Northwest" charming.
I'd had 2 hurricanes and a hand grenade (bestest drink ever!) at that point, so the teeny local diner on the next corner with all of 3 tables did just the trick.
He looks more Italianish than Irishish. Actually, he looks exactly like the actor in Age of Adeline (great movie, btw). He has that manly scruff and the super thick longish hair that looks like a silk sheet. It's sort of uncanny.
I'm calling him O'Brian.
And he has the boyish nervousness of a guy who doesn't have something scripted to say to a woman. He was unsure how to take charge of the conversation. And his inquiries were hesitant. It's beyond refreshing. And I'll bet the technique has garnered him a gaggle of thots.
Or maybe it's this city.
I'm not gonna lie. At 1am, there are lots of flirty guys around with alcohol-induced courage, armored with a variety of pick up lines. I would think that a woman walking alone in New Orleans would mean that there's something wrong with her. But apparently, it only means she's been separated from the protection of her pride.
But O'Brien's kind of concentrated "I see beyond the fact that you have a vajayjay and you smell clean" focus and affected obsession works for me.
Or maybe it's this city.
He does have really nice lips.
And in the whole 4 hours, not one "I've dated (and/or love) Asian women" reference.
However, he had no idea who Jean Luc Picard is.
Sigh. Some things just can't be taught.
Damned city. They let anyone in.
Side note: A dude wearing a Star Wars t-shirt told me to come over and touch his lightsaber. Probably his 20th attempt to be clever that night. I told him I'd like to borrow it so I could shove it up his ass and watch it light up. His buddies were still teasing him by the end of the block.
More Californication. I have so many pics and videos that I had to make room for more.
My gf and her daughter hung out on the pier in Venice Beach while I "surfed"...heh,
Okay, it wasn't really surfing. I rented a surfboard from a surfer guy who looks like Matthew McConaughey on crack and lied to the instructor about my vast surfing experience.
Eh, for the record, I have none.
It's a 12 min long video, but ClipStitch only allows for 10 second clips.
Here's the complete summation of the humiliating occurrence:
Clip #1: Mia paddles out with a new friend and thinks, "Meh. I'll just wing it."
Clip #2: Upon sighting the 12th giant wave approaching, Mia pees herself - I actually peed myself! - and gets knocked over like a pin. (Yes, that's me screaming with a mouth full of water. lol)
Clip #3: Mia says, "Oh, HELL no" and books the hell back out of the water, sees random dude smirking at her abasement, and "surfs" the last 1 inch of water before the shoreline, looks back at dude like, "I'm awesome, right?", then falls off and loses her board.
Edit 04/23/15 - The bff says it was a whistle, but I still think it was me. I screamed that loud at that precise time. Also, men are arseholes. That is all.
I'm getting mad heat for the Iggy Azalea post. Like I told an untruth. I'm sorry, but...she is white, yes? And she is from Australia, right? And she's pretending to be Da Brat, right?
Yeah. I was all wrong. Look. Don't go all "stage mom" on me because I prefer the real thing. If you think Figgy is a real rapper, then you've probably never received a rude glance when you walked into a room full of people, or had to fight harder than someone of another race for a job, or had to drop to the floor to hide from gunshots every night.
Lucky. Must be nice to be you.
Want more? Bring it, bitches. I'll win every time.
Was in serious need of a double chocolate cupcake, so I stopped by the new cupcake place on the way home. Chatted with a nice lady there, found out she's obsessed with shopping at Marshall's. I'm not a Marshall's fan. I can never find anything in that store. It's total mayhem. The women's sweaters are usually in electronics or baby clothes or something.
I asked her to wait right where she was for a moment, and ran out to my car. (Tripped over the snow, of course.) Found what I was looking for under the back seat (along with my hair clip...wtf), ran back inside. Gave her the $25 Marshall's gift card I won at a baby shower last week.
There was a cute little bundled up senior woman waiting at a Detroit bus stop on my way home. I looped back around so that I could ask her to let me drive her to her destination. I quickly sifted through possible ways to prove to the woman that I'm not a crazy person. I could give her my business card. Or let her hold my drivers license.
But then I imagined the next person offering her a ride. Maybe that person isn't so kind. Maybe they want to hurt her. And possibly, she'll only have the pleasant memory of the nice Asian woman who happily drove her home the last time.
The guy next to me at the gas station was carjacked at gunpoint this morning. It happened so fast. Like on a cop show.
Anyway, I guess I was thinking of this morning and the whole sheep-in-wolf's-clothing thing. And turned back around. I don't want her to assume that everyone is good. But I didn't see her face. Maybe I'm assuming too much. She could be of sound mind, completely aware of her surroundings. Maybe she had that determined expression, like she didn't want a ride.
And now I feel horrible. I should've given her a ride.
Isn't tonight's moon amazing? There is this vibrant ring of color around it whenever it's over the clouds. I tried to lighten this a little to make the rings clearer, but now it looks sort of oil-painty.
It was amazing to see the "Go Red for Women" event really take flight at my workplace this year.
Last year, I created a big campaign to get everyone involved. At least to wear red. It didn't really catch on until this year.
It was really something special to walk into the lunch room and see a sea of red. Red shirts, red jackets, red ties. I budgeted for 2,000 "red dress" pins and put them in a basket in my office for those employees who wear uniforms. So I got lots of visitors, also.
I performed a random act of kindness today that I feel really good about. I was excited to get home and blog about it, then realized that telling someone about it would defeat the purpose. It's supposed to be random. If I boast about it, I'm looking for acknowledgement and reward.
Go red, bitches.
I meant for this to include video of the red led/light display at my job,
but ClipStich hates me and added a weather video for my mom instead.
Here's an easy way to help the homeless community near you: Build a hygiene kit.
At your local dollar store, purchase some (or all) of the items listed below.
The idea of hygiene kits started while passing out lunches at MLK Blvd. and 3rd Ave., where a lot of Detroit's homeless community can be found. Several men asked me if I had any toilet tissue. You don't realize how important even something as basic as toilet tissue can be to someone without a home.
I went to several dollar stores for my purchases because I was looking for specific types of items. For instance, instead of buying a toothbrush and a toothpaste, I found the toothbrush/toothpaste travel kits.
You can keep the kits in your back seat for days when you find a homeless person at one of the entrance ramps. Helping someone stay clean is a really easy way to help them maintain their dignity.
Quick tip, you can use stickers to separate the men's from the women's kits.
1 roll toilet tissue
1 bar soap
1 minipack Facial tissue/Kleenex
Antibacterial wipes, spray or gel
1 toothbrush
1 toothpaste
1 bottle water (won't fit in gallon bag, but easy to carry)
1 comb
For Men, add...
2 razors
1 can shaving cream
1 men's deodorant
For Women, add...
1 pack maxi pads
1 bottle scented lotion
1 women's deodorant
Stuff I didn't Think About until After
Small mirror
Nail polish
Emergency 1st Aid kit (band aids, alcohol wipes, etc. Sort of a smaller version of this.)
There's too much to watch on TV! I don't know where to turn. And I can't remember all the station numbers. lol
Okay, there's ...
* Puppy Bowl XI
* Zombie Bowl (TWD with Shane!)
* Nonstop
* Law & Order Marathon
I need Liam Neeson to come over and shovel my snow. I'll bet he'd shovel the hell outta my snow. It would be completely obliterated lol.
--------------
Wow. Even with all the lights off, the illumination from all the snow falling makes it look like all the lights are on.
MONDAY
Robot scoffs at baby shower invite. News at 11.
TUESDAY
They upgraded the restrooms and added those automatic flushers, and now the stupid toilet keeps splashing my butt with water before I can pull my skirt back down and run out.
Ever notice how a person who has confided in you, bounced ideas off of you, asked for your professional opinions...when the person finally made it big/gets rich/realizes his vision, then drops you like Ebola in favor of the shiny, suddenly attainable model? Suddenly, you're not worth that phone call saying, "hey...what's up?"
Or maybe you never really were. Maybe you were always the lease.
Visited a homeless community in Detroit with some girlfriends early this morning. Which basically means that we all meet up at an intersection where the homeless community hang out (typically near a temporary housing shelte), haul our lunches onto an open space on the ground, and hand the lunches to people who come up to us.
It can take hours, or minutes. It all depends on how many lunches you bring, and how many visitors you get. So it works better with a team. More stuff to distribute. But it is always rewarding. If you're lucky, you get to meet some really cool people.
The last time we did this, one of our visitors asked about hygiene items. Most of the ladies still did lunch bags today, but I'm not ashamed to admit that I begged a few to do toiletry bags instead. I think passing out personal hygiene items isn't as "cool" as passing out food. Little did I realize, toiletry stuff is also more expensive. Yeesh.
I packed:
* toilet tissue
* bar of soap
* hand sanitizer
* wet wipes
* comb
* tooth brush
* tooth paste
* shaving cream (men's bags)
* razor (men's bags)
* maxi pads (women's bags)
* Hershey's bar (women's bags)
* $5 local supermarket gift card
Out of everything we distributed today, the rolls of toilet paper were the big hit. I hadn't considered how necessary and important toilet paper is to every human. One of those things you don't think about.
You should try this sometime. It's easier to plan than it seems. Contact your friends, decide what to pack and when/where to meet, pass out the bags. Really simple. And it's an easy way to remind yourself that, even when we're struggling, we still have something to give.
Give it a try. Email me if you need advice, or help getting started. I'll be in Japan next week. Not the big move, just a previously scheduled visit. I should go to the gym, but I'm exhausted. Slept really bad last night. Headed to bed.
When I was 12, I wrote this story about a beautiful woman whose special powers were activated when she looked at you. Like Medusa, sort of. Every vampire in the world wanted to enslave her while they figured out how to steal her powers. Her powers caused all sorts of chaos in the vampire world. They fought constantly for ownership, sometimes killing each other's entire clans for the chance to kidnap the woman. They would almost kill her during the throes of their constant fighting, lock her up, hire special doctors to study her. She hated her existence. Whenever she was close to death, some self-serving vampire would rescue her from it again. She would plead with the vampire to let her die, but the vampire would be so focused on using her powers to become the leader that he didn't notice how flawed and broken she was inside, or how her warped sense of self was turning her powers dark.
Some folks think the highest achievement we can hold is physical beauty. Not our own beauty - which is matchless and perfect - but our own beauty as it compares to the general standard of beauty. Supermodels are defined by it. People spend their entire relationships performing grave disrespects to their partners because it's all covered under the "but he/she's hot" clause. Superficially, a compliment about your appearance (for the sake of my rant, let's say the person isn't referring to your sense of style, or your sweet ass shoes.) is fantastic. It's a great resource as a quick attention whore fix. And because it tends to be the thing by which we're most judged, we proudly take false ownership of it.
But let's apply a little Spocktitude logic to this.
Our appearance is a genetic mash up of our folks'. That's why we're all beautiful. Our bodies are like giant fingerprints - all uniquely branded and made just for us from them. Even among twins, our skin and lines and curves, or smile, our "beauty" - and in this way, we are all uniquely beautiful - are all thanks to them.
When it comes to attraction, how you look shouldn't "make-or-break" matter. What should matter is what you do with your body. How you care for it. How you treat others. How you find ways to improve your life. How you appreciate the ingenuity of Star Trek. And all those things can't possibly be recognized by a stranger who tells you you're beautiful.
I want...I wish people would dig deeper. I want to be acknowledged as a decent person. I want to own the composition of my parents' hearts: humility, poise, strength, curiosity, independence, integrity.
I'm just realizing (as I type this) that my father may have had this in mind when he use to tell me,
"If you didn't earn it, it isn't yours."
I always thought he was talking about my grades. He would stop the old Dodge in front of my high school and make me repeat it before getting out to head to class. Hmm.
Diagram on personal identity measures
from "Promise of Potential"
(Jodi Davis)
As usual, I'm distracting myself from my own rant. I had this whole thing about guys and their loins here. But this is way too long already.
By the way, not just the girls. Guys, too. Charm and character replaces physical attractiveness any day in my opinion. Note my recent scent-marking on my own TV. I referred to the actor as "Downey Jr. sexy".
If Colin Farrell walked up to me, my nether region might light the sparklers and fire up the grill and bake a cake and blow up the balloons and call over the girls and throw confetti around, but I wouldn't introduce myself with, "You're hot." Although I have seen a great deal more of him in...um...other, more documentary-style films. Okay bad example all around.
Btw, the character in the story I mentioned earlier isn't a character representation of me. She was yoroppa hita. Blond hair, green eyes, tall. A representation of what I recognized as the western (and now, eastern) standard of beauty.
So, you think someone is physically attractive? That's great. But who are they on the inside? Is he a good person? Is she a bitch? Does he work hard? Is she nice to people? Do you care?
"Promise of Potential" author Jodi Davis defines "identity" as a collection of all things above and below our surface. Social classifications, preferences, gifts, talents. I've been working on a post about surface vs. hidden classifications for a while. But for the sake of this post, the key point is that we are the sum of our experiences and choices. I think that's a quote from somewhere.
Sigh. I keep changing my point. I started this post wanting to explain my perspective on the one thing...then it evolved into a whole other thing...now, my point is something completely different. It's really difficult to stay focused for this long because, although I'm typing 100 miles per minute, I'm a visual learner and my thoughts come to me in images which is why its difficult to explain things sometimes...also, the series finale of True Blood is on. So far, not impressed. Out like a lamb, it seems.
My ramblings are getting longer. It's like some kind of senility. Look. If you're reading this post, chances are you already know I'm a little bit strange. No point in sugar coating it. Seriously, could you imagine going anywhere with me? You'd have no idea what I was talking about the entire time.
My new point is this: Don't use physical appearance as the reason you decide to get to know someone or not. (That's the grandfather of "yellow fever", btw.) You might be ignoring a whole lot of really good people. And that wouldn't be fair to you or them.
Physical characteristics simply aren't the true barometer of a person's worth. In the end, I want to be remembered for beautifully carrying the best features of my parents' hearts. Not their bodies.
Waiting for a few more inches of length, then gonna donate my hair to Karmanos Cancer Institute via Locks of Love. I can't wait...it's killing me already. It takes so much longer to get ready in the morning. One of the donation stipulations is that I can't highlight or lighten it, so no hair color. I'm stuck with bleh.
Hopefully, only 2 more months before the big chop.
