If this entry was a newspaper article the headline would read “Badass Driver discovers she actually a scared little girl”.
It was JUST the snow, or JUST the ice—but the road conditions at 1 am in the morning were actually a complex issue. It was a shit show. It was a cornucopia of shitty city planning issues and other driver who had no idea how ice works.
I told Ashley that there was no way I was spending my entire off day stuck in my house staring at the walls. At about five- thirty, I insisted that since my date stood me up we should make our way to the galleria. At this point it was rainy, but the roads were clear. We spent a couple of hours at the mall looking at things we couldn’t afford and participating in mild tomfoolery. At around seven or so, the sales clerks in the store started looking antsy, and some of the stores had already begun closing down early. One lady in Victoria’s Secret told us that the weather had already taken a turn for the worst. I scoffed at her.
Ashley then started showing signs of genuine concern about driving home. Since I didn’t want to turn in early, I decided to go down town and see what kind of delicious foods we could scrounge up during downtown’s happy hour.
The roads on the way downtown were splendid. Yes, we did pass a couple of bad wrecks, but I insisted everything would be fine. We met some really cool downtown people, and even scored a couple of glasses of plum wine.
On the walk home, the rain was super cold, but not frozen. Since I don’t understand what socks or comfortable shoes are, Ashley was kind enough to lend me more cold weather supplies.
When I got into my car to drive home, the temperature reading was 37. When I pulled into my drive way one hour and ten minutes later the reading was a cool 26 degrees.
The streets in downtown on the way to 35 looked completely normal. I felt pretty confident. Somewhere between Empire Central and Northwest Highway, shit got real. Not only did shit get real, but someone turned off the lights. My hands gripped the steering wheel at ten and two. My eyes were the widest that they have ever been, and my back way seriously arched away from the back of my seat. Immy K (the name of my Jetta) and I were a united front, Lady and machine, and we were determined to make it home. In Dallas, even though it was dark and I realized the stuff that I thought was sand was actually ice, I was able to stick to the pathways that the 18 wheelers had created. Typically I am afraid of 18 wheelers because I know most of the drivers are wired on crank and haven’t slept in days. Today was no different but as long as these professionals were driving at a normal pace I knew that I could handle my car.
About half an hour into the drive, the 18 wheelers around me started driving about 20mph and fishtailing. This is when I began to panic.
I told myself that panicking wasn’t going to get me home safely. I took deep breaths, and I turned the radio off.
Not having the radio on was definitely going to help me, because that’s the equivalent of driving on sanded roads.
I was getting closer to the farmer’s Branch area, and 35 was darker than ever and appeared to be completely white with no tire tracks. Out of nowhere an 18 wheeler slid across four lanes of traffic, right in front of me. I just knew at this moment I was going to hang out in the afterlife with my friend Corey who recently passed, and Nelson Mandela (RIP to both).
(That’s right, the truck is freaking me off and because of the snow it’s throwing up, I can’t see anything. At. ALL.)
For some reason, unbeknownst to me and in defiance of the few laws of physics that I understand, the truck and I gained control of our vehicles.
Literally, Jesus took the wheel.
At the moment when I gained a little confidence, I noticed that my car has a little indicator that lets me know when I’m totally not in control of my car. It’s a little orange light with squiggly lines. It’s like the car was telling me, “there’s no traction here, driver, but I’ll be damned if I know what you should do about that. Here’s a really distracting light.”
God bless German engineering.
Lewisville was the scariest city of them all.
Lights out! Don’t’ turn on the radio.
No sand whatsoever. No tracks. Lots of cars in ditches facing the wrong direction: It was like an ice skating rink on the freeway. Because this was the coldest part of the drive, and all the roads were just sheets of ice, I mapped out of game plan of how to get to my house which happens to be in a neighborhood on a hill. I slid over a bridge, almost got hit on 121 by two cars that thought that they didn’t have to obey stop lights because the weather is bad, and passed by three cars that were stuck spinning their wheels. I was gripping the steering wheel so hard that my fingers hurt, and I clenched my teeth to such an extent that I had a headache when the drive was over.
When I got home I let out the biggest sigh of relief. I parked in our driveway, and the car started to slide backward. It was the first time that I’ve had to use the emergency break.
It is only by the grace of God that I made it home tonight. Unless God decides to drive me to work tomorrow, I’m not going in.
Are you feeling left behind in this world? Like you just can’t get an edge up on the competition?
Historically there were fewer choices in life. The average person knew exactly what their destiny was! Life was so simple and pleasant during feudalism. Now there are so many choices and with the internet age that one is never sure what he or she should be doing. This can lead to directionlessness, chronic loitering, and the lack of ability to make decisions.
Life was way easier. You knew where you were, and you knew you weren’t going anywhere…unless the plague or something took you out.
Are you easily distracted? Tired? Have an alcohol problem? Are you distressed from frequently using Wikipedia for self diagnosing?
Fiuqitol is different from other medications in that it will solve all of your problems by administering a heavy sleep aid. A refreshed state will allow developed thought resulting in progress.
Now you’ll have less time to fuck around on the internet. The deep sleep also cuts down on drunken driving, STDs and unwanted pregnancy because you won’t be able to leave the house to get blasted
The first dose of fuquitol is used to saturate your gaming console or home computer so that the damage causes less time on the internet/playing video games.
The second dose is taken internally, causing a deep sleep–when you wake up without anything to waste your time, you’ll begin to wonder why you are not at work
Fuquitol taken once daily will allow you 12 hours of sleep, which will leave you refreshed to make life’s difficult choices.
Side effects include life direction, loss of loser friends, promotions, increased work load and responsibility, happy family life, an aversion to Denton and other college towns, and general maturity–and often times a successful life
“After I turned thirty, I just didn’t know what to do with my life besides watch sporting events from crappy bars. Since I took Fuquitol I make enough money at the job I acquired to actually watch the games in person!” Steven W.
“I often have clean dishes, and I wash myself daily now!” Cynthia K.
“Before I was overwhelmed by life’s choices and would often cry at restaurants because there were too many choices and I had no direction. Now I can just order a steak. Not being a crybaby had made me way more attractive to women without drug dependencies.” Michael A.
Most patients in the study were 30+ aged males without a job, so they weren’t able to consult a doctor before using. We suggest consulting a physician before changing your regimen. More than likely given our user base, you will take a poll of very sophisticated facebook and reddit users.
I have a secret.
It’s time for me to come out to the world.
Deep in my soul, I’m a 40 year old white man.
I can’t stop listening to Paul McCartney. Sometimes when I’m in my car I literally laugh my ass off while listening to Russ Martin. Not literally. My butt is still pretty huge, which is awesome because it allows me to comprehend complex political philosophy.
I thought my butt was just for guys to smack and stare at, but really it’s also the reason why men find me unattractive. “You’re really snarky, where did all that sass come from.” Now I know that it actually comes from my ability to analyze situations and quickly come up with a reply. The reason you started dating me will ultimately be the reason why you’ll come to dread the sound of my voice. All of my powers, my prowess, and my digestive health stem from my bottom.
White men typically don’t have large asses though. I’m very confused about my confession right now.
Okay, so I think older white person humor is absolutely marvelous. But I’m also super liberal and I really enjoy the company of men…
So I’m more like a gay 40 year old white man. I’m a gay white man who can sing like a British deceased white woman.
I’m kinda all over the map here.
Ah! I was going to write about cultivation.
When I meet someone that I really like, I typically look past them. Well, not past them–I see potential. I could meet someone and see that they are lying in a dirty gutter, but I realize that because soap exist and alcohol is not permanent, if they have a spark of intelligence then I know under the right conditions they could be awesome. It’s the woman’s mistake. This is how I’m not like a white man. I like a fixer-upper. I don’t like buying the property as it is. Sometimes I see the warmth in others and I want it for myself. I’m not a gardener, and I’m not a baker, but I just know under the right conditions that people can flourish.
So I put on a pair of heels and a baker’s hat, and I pour in affection and kisses and booze, and I put these men in the oven to bake. I wait patiently as the aroma fills the figurative kitchen of my little heart. Somehow while these men are in the oven, I walk away for a second, and they decided that they would rather be with anyone but me. Literally anyone. It always disappoints me, but I’m not sure whether it’s because these dudes don’t want me, or because I hate being wrong about people.
Let’s not kid ourselves, folks. It’s really about rejection. No one likes it, and it’s always hard to deal with. It also sucks when people just automatically decided that you’re not worth cultivating when you clearly think that they are. I’m going to wait a little bit to get into all my issues about self esteem, but I want to let you know that rejection hits everyone who is able to process it.
While I’m thinking about cultivating relationships, because it is my ultimate fear to end up without friends and single in my old age, I realized that I should start thinking of a cultivating my legacy. I was thinking about doing a video blog or a podcast. Why should I let other people steal my jokes and my stories? I have lived through each of my dramatic experiences, and I have to know that these moments were not in vain. The world is a different place now a days, who will tell this story if I don’t.
Oh! Speaking of telling stories, here’s one about an acquaintance of mine….I sometimes am worried that I’m losing my mind. I want to take a moment to quote someone who has already lost their mind.
“I call dibs on EVERYONE! So stop your F*$&#* each other, you dirty sluts. You, the entire human population of Earth, are my one and only neglected and abused hoe. God gave you to Abraham, he’s dead, and I’m still here. #megalomania… What you gonna do bro when Megalomania runs wild all over you?!?!?!?!??”
I did some mild editing. I am pretty sure, with the implications of this text that this man is suffering from late stage syphilis insanity. There’s a little bit of heresy in the text…and there’s the mention of a gardening tool. I just wanted people of the world to know that a person that would say this exists, and is roaming around all nilly willy without restraint.
Expression is important. I’ll try not to have a breakdown on Facebook… Instead I’m having a breakdown here.
I haven’t really been blogging because I’ve been doing really well at developing the art of procrastination. Also, I broke my R key so it makes it kinda difficult to rant without having to slow down for that letter. I never realize how important that letter is until it’s broken, or I’m pretending to be a pirate.
Notice: I realize that some of these are first world problems and that other people have it worst than I do. When I think about them, and I do often, it makes me even more sad and distracted.
I feel like a moderately well developed person. Most of the time. I have a job, and I make it there on time. It doesn’t pay what I need it to pay, but if I can make it just a little further it will. I have friends who like me enough, and when I have enough money I hang out with them. I am not sure how I’m doing in the dating scene. These are the things that my optimist that lives deep within me tries to tell the rest of me.
This is what I think right before I have a mental break down:
I have no gas in my tank. I have to make it to work twice more this week.
I’m not sure, but because of my current financial situation the 1.68 that I just spent on eggs might overdraft my account.
I don’t have 35 dollars for that fee. I didn’t even have two dollars to buy the eggs.
I’m so tired of eating eggs.
Maybe I can buy Halloween candy after Halloween is over, since I wasn’t able to do anything for Halloween.
Everyone sure looks like they are having fun in those facebook pictures.
Everyone at my job got together for a girl night out, I was not invited.
A potential dating partner told me he was afraid to talk to me while I was menstruating, what did he think would happen? That’s a little offensive.
I’m not dating one guy I just met, but he has managed to send me three messages to break up with me. Am I that horrible before you get to know me, or is it really true that everyone in this world is more worthy of a chance than I am. That idea is seriously offensive.
I finally managed to fit into a pair of jeans that fit me at express, they cost more than eggs and an overdraft fee.
At least I don’t have a kid, because if I did the kid would be starving and probably have an Irish alcoholic father that was set on dumping me daily.
When I get my paycheck, the entire thing will be spent paying people that I owe.
I miss my friends but I’m afraid I have less in common with them everyday. A worse fear is that they never were able to relate to me in the first place.
Being depressive in unattractive, but why is it okay for other people to feel and not okay for me?
How could we all take such similar steps, but at this juncture in the road, I’m the only one who ended up a failure.
Obviously I’m all over the map emotionally, and this is my reaction to the people I know and our interactions. How do you make decision to break a pattern that you aren’t in control of. I meet so many people from so many different places, but at the end of the day it’s hard to spot unique behavior. When you’re at the bottom people scatter. When you’re at the top they are more than happy to rejoice with you. If you’re a person who experiences serious lows, how are you to reach out for support without pulling others down.
I hear- and this is a pretty far fetched story- and I’ve been told that when you’re in a partnership, the other person is supposed to help you the same way you are supposed to help support you’re partner when they are down. I can’t really say that I’ve really experienced this, and it’s becoming more and more difficult to tolerate potential dating folks who don’t show signs of support.
You know, I’ve had friends that were seriously supportive, and the moment our dynamic changed from friendship to romantic, they managed to absolutely drop me on my ass? That used to be my big thing when I was younger…friends with ambiguous boundaries. Now it appears that some people don’t think I’m worthy of the friendship at all, we skip all that getting to know you junk and lead straight in with the crappy treatment. I would vow to never leave my house again if it didn’t smell of curry and wasn’t infested with ants and filth.
I wrote my list, and I got a car and a job–but even though I’m making the right choices the stress alone is making me crazy.
Please don’t respond by telling me how I’m fucking everything up. I already know- How about if you see me maybe try a hug- or a soda pop. If you’re smelly I’d prefer a soda pop, not a hug.
I’m almost thirty years old this year. 20 years before I was born on a military base in the great state of Texas, my mother was just a little girl and her generation was moved by the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in a way that swept the nation. I often wonder if he knew when he was preparing this speech, that it would become so iconic.
Almost 12 years ago, during my very first class of college, Dr. Gloria Cox would play a video of that speech to honor its anniversary at UNT. I remember that I cried, because I felt totally unworthy. I didn’t feel like I was awesome enough for so many people to struggle and give their lives, so that I’d be able to go to a public university, so that I could take public transportation to get there without issue, and so that I could use any facilities available to take my life in whatever direction I wanted.
How could someone know that the movement that they believe in would have such a drastic effect? I think of how my grandmother used to tell me that when she was a little girl, if she was walking on the sidewalk and white people were walking, she’d have to move to the side and let them pass. I can walk anywhere I please, on the same streets where my grandmother walked as a child. There is such a tremendous amount of pressure to be constructive in this world, when you think that whenever someone was hosed down in the streets, or shot down, or attacked by dogs in protest—that was for me.
What is this generation’s contribution? How will we make things better than they were when we got here? Is racism all gone? Absolutely not. Just a few days ago, Colorado legislator made a statement about poor black people and fried chicken having a fiscal impact on our people. Personally, I’ve been called names and refused service. I know that there’s a portion of the population that hides their hatred deep underground. We should not tolerate hatred of any kind. Many LGBT contributors and advocates feel like their cause is identical to the civil rights movement. It is not. Each cause is different, fought by different people, but we have to remember that just because the fight is different, it is not any less valuable—If we refuse to tolerate hatred, then we must advocate equal rights across the board.
Bigotry cannot be tolerated in any form. The only way to snuff it out is to speak out against it in any outlet that is available. Perhaps one of the biggest complaints from the older generation about the Occupy Movement a couple of years ago was that the younger generation was just filled with complainers. How else is a movement really birthed? Our nation was founded by a group of whiners who felt they were oppressed by taxation, and every struggle after that was a response to the expression of discontent amongst groups of people. We have to continuously seek to change for the better and the progress of our society hinges on our disdain for injustice and current conditions. If we never complained and saw what was wrong, what would be our motivation for change?
We have more media tools and the power of the internet now. We don’t have to gather in churches to sit through sweaty uncomfortable meetings. With the power of communication comes the inconvenience of free observation. During the past two elections, I have seen people say some of the ugliest, racist, and fallacious things I think I have ever heard through the internet.
It is my hope for our generation that we take the road paved by those before us and make it better. We have the direction of yesterday and the technology of tomorrow. I hope that we won’t spend our lives occupied with the frills and fringes and neglect what really matters. If we want our children to live in a world that isn’t completely polluted, a world that is not afraid of sexual orientation, a world untainted by prejudices towards the poor and the diseased, a world that accepts each individual—We might want to get on the ball. We have an arduous amount of work to do.
I wonder why people give congratulations to people who are new parents. I know it’s a tradition, and there’s no way I could really ask without people looking at me like I am an insensitive total douche-bag. I don’t congratulate people who are getting a gift, and that’s what a child is… right?
It seems to me that what you do with that child in rearing is what is worthy of congratulations, well…after a job well done. For all we know right now, these little babies could grow up to be serial killers. Did you know that they start out as babies, too?
Now weddings are a commitment that people make to one another, and I understand that this is worthy of some praise and congratulatory phrases. You don’t know that couple will stay together, but at least in that moment they are making a public commitment. It takes balls, ladies and gentlemen, to be able to tell someone that you love them in private and mean it.
I will admit that a mother does go through great strain in order to preserve a life for 9 months, but even at that there are plenty of people who carry a baby to term and are terrible parents. Shouldn’t we wait just a couple of years? Perhaps instead of congratulations we should say, “Enjoy this time, but don’t fuck it up. Our future depends on what you do now.”
What a challenge we place upon the heads of two people! And it seems like all of the friends and family want to see the baby at once. It seems to me that the baby will not remember that you came to visit on the third day of its life, and that it’s more important for the parents to love on a baby and bond. I don’t have any children, but I’m pretty sure that all babies look the same unless they are yours. So when it is your turn to create life, you will have a front row ticket to the show. Let the parents enjoy their precious moments right–since deep down more than likely to friends and extended family this is just another baby.
I often wonder why I’m drawn to people who have such different values from me. I think it’s great to share a variety of different opinions. I truly believe that it’s the basis of all enlightenment and information. I wonder though, how I will ever settle down with someone if I can’t find anyone with my values that I can tolerate and procreate with.
I tried for a few years to adapt a different set of values, particularly with regards to relationships and love. Pretending that I am able to exist in an open relationship without feeling possession and competition makes me crazy pants. I feel all of the emotions that all people feel, the only difference between myself and people who claim this consequence free and happy life is that I refuse to lie about what I feel.
I am not enlightened enough to live a life where I share everything. I am not a good person who can love more than one partner. I am not warm enough to adopt the lifestyle that people more learned than I am have for centuries. I am in now was saying that open relationships are wrong, I am saying that everyone chooses their paths, and this path is not for me.
I’ve been running into quite a few people lately that tell me that they don’t want to deal with their friends because in hard times those people can be negative. I think, hands down, that this is the stupidest shit I have ever heard. If your friends are going through tough times, could you not counter them with positivity? How could you possibly think that you deserve the companionship of people when they are at their best when you will not lift them up when they are down.
My life has been a roller coaster of ups and downs. I am not always the most fun to be around, but I am forever grateful to the people who stick around.
I am happy now that I’ve found something that I have been looking for. I really thought that someone was going to be able to help me find a job. It turns out that I got a line from a family member, but my application wasn’t pulled for that reason. It just happened.
The best way that people helped me was not by telling me what to do, or what I should be doing, but simply by being there. I wonder though why the strongest of my friends and the most able didn’t seem very concerned with helping at all.
How do I evaluate that? If I told you I was having a terrible problem and in response you took a vacation? Does that mean that you didn’t care? Or does it mean you just thought that I would take care of everything?
Okay. Let me summarize:
Babies are gifts.
Having more than one lover makes me tired. (That’s what she said. No really, I said that)
People with problems don’t like it when you refuse help because they are negative.
Babies look like their parents so that the parents as narcissists have an incentive not to eat them. (implied, not discussed)
Changing for other people will end in failure and a bucket of undecipherable emotions.
I would like some ice cream.
I really love my friends. I’d defend all of them to the death.
They are great people. I really don’t like crowds of people, and quite frankly I’ll do almost anything to avoid some people.
When I woke up this morning (2pm), I heard a vacuum cleaner running outside my door. I found this to be strange since I’m the only person that I’ve heard vacuum in this house for a little bit. I walked out in the kitchen to find my roommate chatting with a vacuum sales man.
I personally feel if you open the door to a salesman it’s your responsibility to shoo him away. I mean I can’t make a deal on a vacuum that costs 3,000 bucks. I don’t even have a job.
Also, anyone who knows me is fully aware that I can’t really have a warm conversation with anyone right after I wake up. It takes me 20 minutes to become normal. I avoided talking to this stranger with a sales pitch because over the years I’ve realized something: you have to be careful about what you say to people.
When you don’t know people so well, you take what they say to heart. When you know people beyond love, sometimes you’ll take what they say to the grave. Your words are important. Almost every religion talks about controlling your tongue. A “double edged sword” is a powerful weapon. Some great teachers even stress the importance of silence.
A loose tongue could end or begin a marriage.
The rhetoric behind the things you hear growing up is really powerful. I’ll make a confession about some of my triggers. I get seriously overwhelmed when I hear people make light of racist remarks. I become afraid that the people who are closest to me think with the same sentiment.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard one of my gay associates make a statement about not finding black men attractive. “Oh my god, this black guy messaged me on grinder. I’m totally not into that.”
I can’t count how many times I’ve hear this statement from random people, “She’s really pretty for a black girl.”
Black people are this strange species of people who come secondary to all other people. Rarely they are known to have intelligence, and seldom are they actually attractive. That is why racist jokes are so funny.
I suppose if you have a grandma who lived during segregation, her idea of the way people perceive black people doesn’t help shake off paranoia.
My grandmother was always sure to let me know how she thought people would perceive me. “You have to be twice as smart and three times as quick as any other person in this world, or you’ll never survive.” She felt that every time someone met me, they would assume that I was stupid and ugly. She believed that even if a person who was not black smiled at you, they secretly thought you were dirty and inferior. She said that they passed that sentiment onto their children. Even when we thought people would let go of these racist notions that they would really never disappeared. The hatred would still exist, collect, and build under the surface.
My grandmother, who seriously hates white people, is a firm advocate of gay rights. She thought I should go to law school and work for the ACLU. I believe that she felt a sort of kinship with the LBGT community, and drew parallels between their struggle and the civil rights movement.
I think it would break her heart to know that minority groups don’t find a kinship with each other, but they fight against each other. We all think that our struggles are unique as groups and individuals. Perhaps this is the reason why we find it so hard to connect with people who are unlike us.
It would break my heart to know that my grandmother’s paranoia had a thread of truth to it.
I don’t think my friends think I’m a hideous person who is an idiot with group like violent tendencies.
Every culture on every continent in this world has this negative view on darker people. Tan is fine, brown is not so great, and dark is the worst.
I don’t care what most people in this world think, but I’m partial to a few.
This isn’t a rant, it’s a reminder. Remember that your words matter to some people, and that friendship is a bond that you should work to protect. It took me a long time to figure that out. I try not to have seriously conversations too early in the morning.