Love is Not What You’d Expect

Hey guys.

Today I am writing because it is a special day;

It’s the anniversary of when me and my boyfriend began dating, four years ago.

And I’ll try not to get mushy or cliche because after four years of learning, tolerating, and loving someone you become more mature in the way that you love them.

As a child, I was raised to think that true love was something out of a fantasy.

That it would happen through a single glance from across the room or from a sudden fall where he would be there to catch me.

But it didn’t. There was nothing like that. No fantasy, no story book beginnings, no chance of fate.

To be honest, on our first date I didn’t think it would last.

We both felt awkward and fished for topics to talk about and did not know how to act around each other.

But, there was something about the last few moments when he dropped me off that made me want to call him again.

And I did.

And still, on the dates to follow, I did not experience any magical moments.

Instead, I discovered something better.

I discovered that we laughed at the same dumb jokes, watched the same television shows, had the same hobbies, and ate similiar foods.

I did not fall for my Prince Charming, instead…

I fell in love with my best friend.

And four years later, I know that I could never find anything better.

White steeds and gleaming swords are wonderful in theory, but my boyfriend grounds me and knows my mannerisms inside and out.

He can always read my face and know exactly what I’m thinking.

He can be immature around me and we can laugh and fight and love each other without embarrassment or hesitation.

And that’s how true love should be, THAT is the real happy ending.

My advice, give up on finding your fantasy and look for your best friend instead.

You’ll be much happier in the end.

[If you are reading this, Happy Anniversary. I love you, and I can’t wait to spend a lifetime laughing and learning with you.]

-Dee

A Change of Pace

Hey guys,

I know it’s been a while since I’ve been on here.

Don’t worry, I’m still alive and kicking.

Though much has happened since we last talked.

Let’s see…

I quit my job because it was awful and not the dream job I’d hoped it would be.

The search continued, while I simultaneously prepared myself for a major life changing surgery which I endured and have since recovered.

I found a new job, temporarily. But I fell in love with the people and the environment so I am in the process of making this my new permanent place of work.

My boyfriend and I are getting to a place where we can begin seriously discussing our future together.

And I am internally kicking myself for not writing more.

I find that, with adulthood, you start putting your own passions aside for extended periods of time to make room for more practical pursuits.

Adulthood is survival and writers barely survive.

I have been learning a lot about balance with some of the recent changes I have made, so eventually, I will learn to make my own time away from my professional life to begin falling back in love with the written word.

But that’s a whole separate internal battle I will continue to have with myself.

So, that’s it. That’s what I have been up to.

I would kindly ask you to comment on this post, a new thing I’m implementing on here… leave me a topic that you would like me to write about or challenge if you decide to leave your own opinion.

I feel like having an established relationship with those of you who follow will motivate me to write more consistently on here and I mean…

Discussions are always heaps of fun.

I look forward to writing for you again!

Until next time…

-Dee

I Love Cursing: So Don’t F***ing Judge Me

Hey, guys.

I wanted to address something.

If you are a regular to my blog, you know one thing for certain.

I fucking LOVE to curse.

It’s a habit.

I can’t shake it, especially when I’m talking or writing in my day-to-day lifestyle.

It gives my words more fluidity, more depth. It feels right.

I feel like cursing has become a lot more mainstream than it was when I was little.

Like, I wasn’t allowed to say the word “suck” without my parents bringing life to a full on halt and beating my little butt till it was beet red.

Nowadays I can get called a bitch by some four-year-old at my job and the parents could give two shits about it.

Like.

I don’t know.

And it’s not just me, there are so many notorious writers throughout history that have my same filthy gutter mouth.

I’m not alone here.

And I get told all the time by friends that read my posts that I should tone it down.

And yes, I do use this blog site as a reference to any hiring manager when asked for a ‘portfolio.’

And I know it’s not exactly “professional.”

But yah know what? Fuck it. This is me, this is who I am, and this is how I express myself.

If I was asked to write a more professional piece then, of course, I am more than capable to do so.

But this blog is my place to stretch and keep my writing and thoughts in tip top shape, and it just so happens that most of my thoughts are rated PG-13 and up… most of the time WAY up.

I will not censor myself for the sake of my art, and if I did, it wouldn’t be any good.

And that is why I curse.

Plus, I definitely read somewhere that people who curse a lot are scientifically proven to be more intelligent.

So for every ‘fuck,’ ‘shit,’ or what have you that you come across on my blog, just makes me more of a fucking genius. -Dee

I’m a Living Ghost

Hey, guys.

So, if you know me, you know my life.

I’ve literally been stuck in this “quarter life rut” (aka quarter life crisis) for a few years now.

You know how it goes.

I’ve graduated college with a degree everyone says was a mistake to get, even though it made me happy getting it.

I’m still at the job I worked at while attending college.

That job does not in any way qualify me for any of the jobs I think I can get with my B.A. in English studies and Writing.

So, as you can guess, my life gets pretty repetitive.

I sleep, I wake up. Go to work. Make money. Come home. Walk dog. Apply for jobs. Sleep. Wake up. Go to work. Spend time with friends and boyfriend. Walk dog. Apply for jobs.

Sleep.

Wake up.

Work.

Sleep.

Wake up.

Apply for jobs.

Work.

Sleep.

Wake up.

Read through the rejection emails.

Work.

Sleep.

Wake up.

You get the idea. It kinda just keeps going on like that.

And, I know I have to pay my dues as a young adult, I have no problem with that. Hard work is nothing to be ashamed of. But.

I keep seeing people around me moving, constantly. Moving in their lives, bettering it, expanding, growing.

And I’m still here. Still stuck in the same routine, and I don’t know how to get out.

At times, I do think that maybe I’m a ghost of my former self or I’m stuck in some dream-like limbo where it’s the premise of Ground Hog Day and I just keep going through the same motions each and every day until one day it gets to me so much that I just have to scream at the world with every inch of breath I hold in my lungs until it all just shifts.

I don’t know, sometimes I think the repetition will drive me insane, and I’m truly scared for the day that comes. I hope it never does.

I just think, that if life grants us so many lessons and gives us so much shit… shouldn’t we at least be able to branch out from it? I feel like so many people have accepted the mediocrity of their mundane lives with no intention of breaking free.

Who, as a child, wishes to be a banker when they grow up?

A sales associate?

A restaurant manager?

I don’t know. Maybe it’s pretentious of me to say that, but. I’ve always known I wanted to become a writer. Ever since I was little.

And I know it’s hard, people tell me all the time that it’s a dying art.

But is it really? I think it’s more relevant than ever before. It’s actually evolving.

The point is: I’m not going to give up.

I will get depressed at times by all of the rejection emails, yes, and I will continue to curse my life and my low-income/high-volume job. But I will continue to write and I will always make myself known until the right opportunity comes along.

I refuse to settle. It’s simply not who I am.

I will not be a ghost, not for much longer. -Dee

 

 

Gaming: It Ruins Your Life

Hi guys,

So today I just wanted to talk about one of my all-time favorite pastimes.

Gaming.

I love gaming.

As a book nerd, I find that the aspect I love most about playing any new game is slowly peeling away at the story (as I am a BIG RPG fan).

Like, if the story is great enough, I’m addicted. I can’t stop. It becomes a drug I can no longer pull myself away from.

And there’s so many to choose from.

But. There’s a problem.

Even though there are A LOT of games out there, there are not enough in my kind of style (that I know of) to keep my fixations satiated.

I am in love with the Mass Effect series. Dragon Age too, though recently BioWare has been kind of going downhill with their newer content.

I mean. I went out and bought a PS4 specifically to play their newest release to my favorite series, Andromeda, and I was greatly disappointed (i.e. devastated).

So, what I like to do instead is replay all the games I can’t seem to get enough of, instead of getting more new content to keep me satisfied.

I also read along to fan-fics and have joined a few Facebook groups to share my addiction to my specific games with my other fellow gaming junkies.

I am still relatively new to gaming, I must admit. I mean sure, of course, I played things like Pokemon on my Gameboy growing up and I definitely won my fair share of Mario Kart on my old Nintendo…

But that was then, and gaming has vastly changed since. Now it’s interactive and it seems so real. You can literally become your character in some games if you so choose. I think it’s amazing, quite honestly.

And I cannot WAIT to see what the future holds for gaming, it’s gonna be epic. -Dee

Entitlement

Hey, guys.

I want to bring an issue to the surface that most Americans deal with on a day-to-day basis.

That issue: Entitlement.

Let me drop a definition of that word here for you:

en·ti·tle·ment

inˈtīdlmənt,enˈtīdlmənt

noun

•  the fact of having a right to something.
• the amount to which a person has a right.
• the belief that one is inherently deserving of *privileges or special treatment

We’re gonna be focusing on that third bullet point in this blog post.

That third point is the very definition of American culture, doesn’t matter who you are.

This isn’t an opinion, it’s a fact. We believe we are so entitled to every little thing, we don’t actually realize what that looks like to others who can’t or don’t have access to every non-necessity we can get our grubby little hands on.

Here’s an example.

 

Nail Salons.

If you’re a woman or man in some situations, you most definitely have a friend who is always perfectly groomed. Meaning: fingers, toes, hair, tanned and perfect round the clock. 24/7.

You might notice that sometimes, that friend isn’t very high up in the world. They might still be living at home, having their parents pay for most of their needs. Maybe their job sucks. Maybe they never have a dollar to their name. Maybe it’s all of the above.

But they still find it in their humble little budget to get these services done for them every week or month.

But, no one questions why the nail artists that work at said salon don’t quite match that level of maintenance in their own personal grooming regimen.

But that said friend will have no problem looking down on them. Or criticizing someone else who can’t afford to go to the salon regularly.

Until they themselves hit a financial setback in their lives. Then they get all whiny and mad and throw a fit, blaming their jobs for not paying them enough. Or the salon for being so expensive.

They believe they are entitled to a higher quality of life, even though they themselves have never or rarely worked hard for it.

And that’s the problem with our world today.

No one can separate entitlement from privilege anymore.

You know what you should be entitled to?

A proper education.

Quality healthcare.

Food and shelter.

An opinion.

It’s privilege that blinds you from that fact of life, it’s privilege that is dragging this country down. And it’s privilege that is ruining our humanity and making it harder for us to face the cold truth of the matter.

Your life has its obstacles, no one person can deny that. But, you will always be luckier than someone else in this world. Do not judge someone else because they can’t be at the level you think you are at.

Don’t be petty.

Don’t complain.

Cause life can always get harder, and when it does, would you want someone to think lesser of you? -Dee

 

Memories Make Us Forgetful

Hey, guys.

So, today I’ve been thinking a lot about kids.

And for once, it has nothing to do with wanting them or not wanting them.

My biological clock is completely OUT of the picture on this one, though the problems that surround it are still not completely absent from my daily thoughts; as those are the thoughts that perplex me quite often.

No. Today I was thinking of kids and their memories. I want to conduct an experiment here, so comment below if you want.

Gather up all of your clearest memories of who you were or what you wanted before you hit age… 10, let’s say. How many are there? Who were you? What were you like? Do you remember every detail of yourself?

It’s weird, right? You can’t. Not completely, anyway. Not like the memories we had during high school or middle school, even.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this all day and wondering… what if we lost who we used to be in place of who we’ve become? Did we become someone our child selves would have hated? Or would we be our own hero? What made us change so drastically? And, if we had a recollection of all our memories, with complete clarity, would we be able to pinpoint the moment or the influence that so drastically rocked us at our core?

This has been bothering me all day, because I cannot for the life of me, remember who I was… as a child. I remember things like, what toys I played with and the color of my room… but what made me want that toy? Why did I like that color? What was I thinking about back then? And most importantly… what made us forget?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just babbling about nothing, but I felt the thought was drastic and important enough to try to get it down into feasible words and utterings.

I don’t know.

I just feel like lately, I’ve been having an inner battle with myself and I think I want to try to backtrack to the exact point that happened… what made me dislike myself? I used to be so content and carefree… when did that all change?

When, did I change? -Dee

Screw Valentine’s Day: Pun Intended

Hey, guys.

It’s the worst fucking day of the year.

Valentine’s Day.

They should call it, “Disappointment Day” or “That Day in The Middle of Tax Season” or “Gain Ten Pounds Eating Shitty Chocolate Then Getting Drunk Off Your Ass and Watching {INSERT SHITTY ROMANCE MOVIE HERE} Day.”

Because any of those titles are more fitting than fucking Valentine’s Day.

I guarantee you NOBODY even knows who Saint Valentine was.

Do you? Seriously. Comment below if you do. Bonus points if you know what the fuck he has to do with Hallmark/Whitman’s/Teddy Bears.

Cause I sure don’t.

Look. I’m not one of those sour chicks that hates the day because some fuckwad boy back in middle school didn’t draw me a heart or give me a card on the day we had to come in and exchange with the whole rest of the class.

I’m the girl who doesn’t understand the hype. Why do we need to pin human affection on one fucking day? Who needs a forty pound teddy bear to validate their relationship? Who needs to be let down because your S.O. couldn’t afford that diamond bracelet you really wanted on THIS. SPECIFIC. DAY?

What is with the pressure, people?

Yes, I admit… it would be nice, for once, to be surprised and swept off my feet with something incredibly sweet and unexpected. But Valentine’s Day? Where’s the romance in that? Everyone KNOWS you’re gonna go do something romantic with the person you love/like. There’s no surprise factor. No spontaneity. It’s mostly just a mass disappointment for those expecting that one big gesture and going through the whole day, never to receive it.

I’m not sour on the concept. I’m sour on the pressure it puts on everyone. I’m sour on the way it makes lonely people feel. I’m sour on the way it makes taken people feel when they didn’t get what they wanted. I’ve been all of those people at some point, on this day.

That is why I hate this day and why it shouldn’t really matter. One day cannot define your love life, that takes many days, many gestures, and way less pressure.

If you’re like me, fuck it. Be your own Valentine. Treat yourself. Do what you would do for the only love in your life that matters. Yourself. That’s what the day should be called, “Love Yourself Day.”

Although, that should be an everyday thing too. Right? -Dee

Finding Happiness

Hey, guys.

So lately, Depression, my unwanted mistress, has been looming around me and doesn’t seem to get the hint that I no longer want her icy cold embrace. If you too suffer from her suffocation, you know how it goes.

I’ve been battling to get out of bed, neglecting my responsibilities, ignoring phone calls, and watching an INSANE amount of Netflix.

It’s been an ongoing war within me for quite some time, we’re talking years. Decades.

This year has been especially hard, even though we’re only two months into it.

My bills have been multiplying, yet despite my efforts, my income has been the same. (I’m lying, it’s gotten lower.)

The job hunt continues, with not much promise ahead. Despite my degree(s) and various bullet-pointed treasures scattered throughout my resume.

I’m living alone now, as my S.O. cannot afford to live with me anymore. That has also taken its toll on our overall relationship, and talks of breaking up have surfaced, more than once. As of now, we’re still together. So. There’s your silver lining.

He also took the dog. So the nights have been quiet and much less hairy… but that has only made my heart heavier and my tears more frequent.

Loneliness is at a high point, although I have an amazing group of friends who’ve tried their best to lift my spirits. They’ve gotten me out of the house when I needed it most, talked me down from the darkest corners of my mind, and assured me that things will work out, somehow.

Things… are still not great. I won’t lie. It’s been repetitive and not very promising.

However, you can’t force life. You can only keep going. If you need a day in bed, take it. But the following day you owe it to yourself to get up and accomplish at least two things, no matter how small they may be. Two things accomplished, is all you need. It’s more than you did yesterday and that’s enough. Keep adding two things a day to your list and soon, things will start getting better. They’ll make the future seem less bleak. It takes two to make things go right, or so the song says.

Just, keep that in mind. And tell Depression to fuck off. -Dee

On This Election…

Hey, guys.

So, I’m not going to write an article based on my political beliefs, those are strictly my own personal thoughts and I expect others to keep theirs to themselves as well.

No. This is about something that happened to me at work the other day and it has since been on my mind.

I was in the middle of my shift, trying to catch up on my side work when I noticed these women waving me down. They weren’t my customers but I was more than happy to accommodate them.

So I go over.

They ask me to grab something for them so I run to the back of the house and bring it back to them in a more than pleasant manner. As I’m about to leave, one of the women stops me.

“Are you voting?”

I tell her that, yes, of course I am. It would be irresponsible of me not to vote.

“Who are you voting for?”

Now, this is where things changed. I told her my honest opinion, that I simply don’t feel that either candidate is worthy of my vote, so I will most likely write in my choice or vote third-party.

“OH NO,” The woman says, “You HAVE TO vote for Trump.”

With that I graciously walked away, wishing to go no further in this discussion.

I was furious, and not because of her choice in candidate.

I was furious because she saw me, a young twenty-something and had the nerve to TELL ME who I should vote for. She saw me and assumed I would take her advice because I have absolutely no capacity as a grown woman to know any better about who would be best suited in such a position of power.

Let me tell you something. Young people are not morons.

We are AWARE of what is happening in this world.

We are CAPABLE of forming our own opinions.

We KNOW what our choices are.

So before you work up the nerve to tell one of us what we should do again, remember that it was your generation that caused all of the economic downfall you can’t seem to escape. It was your generation that raised us, these moronic children, that you seem to think you can control.

But guess what? This is our future, our choice, and you have no right to opinionate yourself, not when you’ve already left us in a world of ruin.

So, my opinion on this election: vote for who you think can better your future, don’t leave it in the hands of those who have failed in the past.

This is our time, young people. Let’s show them that we mean business. -Dee