Journey to the Good Place.

Know yourself. Love yourself.


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A vulnerable heart

So I don’t think I wanna be a vixen succubus anymore.

Up until now I’ve gotten a lot of pride from the knowledge that a night with me could change a mans life…but I recently realized that in all my favorite love stories they fell in love and had an entire relationship before they even had their first kiss.

And yes I’m aware how idiotic and cliche I sound. “Oh, really? You regret being a slut because it JUST MIGHT have something to do with boys treating you like shit? Oh fancy that.” But to clarify, its not like I have sex on the first date, or that I have sex with every cute guy I meet. I think 5 total sex partners for a 24 yr old girl in the modern age is pretty reasonable. But sex isn’t really what I’m talking about. Its just the overall cavalier laid back attitude I portray because I know its what guys like. You know the one:

“Oh you wanna kiss me? Well you’re cute, so why not? I’m not one of those stuck up prudish girls who is gonna make you get to know me and take me on a fancy date before I let you stick your tongue down my throat or grab my boob.”

“Oh you think that girl over there is hot? I don’t care. I’m not one of those silly girls who gets all worked up over things like that. Hell, I think she’s hot too and I’m not afraid to admit it.”

“You say you have a sexual fantasy that no girl has ever been willing to do with you before? Well I’m a forward thinking adventurous woman, so you never know, maybe someday I’d be willing to do it with you.”

You know, all the perfect phrases that bypass a guys sensible brain and go straight to the part of his brain that fuels his wet dreams and makes him putty in a girls hands.

And while I really enjoyed playing the part of a postmodern woman who wasn’t all hung up in the societal expectation that all women should hate sex and be total prudes, and while I was proud that I had no problem admitting that I liked sex as much as men do and saw no reason to beat around the bush and make the guy jump through hurdles for me…recently its made me really sad to realize that I’ve maybe cheated myself out of ever having a beautiful love story because I always jump straight to the last chapter.

So I’m thinking maybe its time I try things the old fashioned way and actually make a guy work to get me for once. And once again, I don’t mean sex, they’ve always had to work for that. But a guy has never had to work very hard to get my undivided attention or my smile or my phone number or my kiss. And I’m starting to think those parts of me should be worth more than a clever joke and the words “I’m in a band.”

Yeah it was nice having so many good looking guys following me around all the time…but rather than have a 100 guys following me and knowing that every one of them will disappoint me and break my heart, I would much rather only have one guy following me and know that he might actually be worth my time.

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Typecasting

About two months ago I wrote a post about being truly different. I talked about how most people have characteristics that make each one unique, but they have a core element that makes them all part of the same tribe and allows them to all communicate and understand each other. Then there are The Others, the ones who are completely different, even in their core.

Example: when Normal people try to understand other Normal people, its like an English speaker learning Spanish. It’s a different language, sure, but the core construction is the same, so it’s not too difficult. On the other hand, when a Normal person tries to get to know an Other, it’s like an English speaker learning Chinese. Nothing they already know applies and they have to start completely from scratch at the far opposite end of the realm of knowledge.

I’ve had another thought on this subject. What makes me one of The Others is that I am not categorized. All the Normals I see around me, they are in a category. Sometimes a more complex person is in 2 or 3 categories, and sometimes as a person grows they will switch categories. But with me, at no time has anyone been able to confidently put me in any category even for a second.

I am very shy, but also direct and I enjoy sharing. I am manly and rough, but also cute and pixie-like. I am old fashioned but also very modern. I am OCD but also lazy and cluttered. I am very needy, but also fiercely independent. I am filled with opposites and therefore fit in nowhere. The only category I’ve ever fit into with any kind of regularity is “Different” or “Weird”. Which isn’t a category as much as it’s an anti-category.

I keep watching these t.v. shows and reading these books and trying to decide what character I resemble. Am I the reclusive and poetic heroine? The savior driven by a fierce moral code? The hero who quietly sacrifices my own happiness to protect the happiness of others? The misunderstood villain who doesn’t mind being hated for doing what I need to to survive and protect what I care about? Or the unimportant sub-character who plays a small role in shaping the main characters destiny, then disappears into a quiet uninteresting life?

Upon going back and re-reading that old post about the truly different, I realized how silly I’ve been. I am none of these characters…or perhaps a little of all of them. Either way, I am not a person who can find a character type that I belong to and then use that characters stories as guidance and inspiration for my own life. And why am I trying? Why do I want so badly to belong when it’s so much better to be one of a kind? Why do I want to live a story that’s already been written when I have the chance to write something brand new? Why am I so terrified of standing alone and admitting that I’m different?

I’m not sure why. But I think its about time I stopped running, stopped searching, stopped desperately looking for a distraction so I can avoid the subject. I think now, while my life is in stasis, is a really good time to turn around and face myself and sit down to a nice long chat so we can figure this stuff out once and for all.

Shared with Memoires for Android
http://market.android.com/details?id=net.nakvic.dromoris
http://sites.google.com/site/drodiary/


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A Better World

One person cannot save the world. However, one person can become the world to another. And so, by taking the place of the cold and scary world and becoming a better kinder version for that person, the world can be saved slowly, one person at a time.

-adapted from Flower Boy Next Door, Korean TV show.

As I sat in bed this morning and listened to this quote, it shocked me to realize that once upon a time this was one of my greatest ideals that I was known for and which really defined my personality. Somewhere along the way I got so caught up in the dark sadness of the world that I forgot. Instead of thinking always of how to add a little brightness into the lives around me, I began to think only of my own loneliness and the never ending aching need to be held, loved, or accepted.

Moving back into my childhood home hasn’t been easy. There is a lot of darkness here that made me very happy to leave in the first place. But one very good thing about coming back is that I’m getting reacquainted with the 16 year old girl I used to be and remembering all the dreams she had for what her life would be like when she went out on her own. Turns out 16 year old me is very disappointed in how grown up me has been living my life so far.

So on my long list of things I need to do, “become ME again” just moved up to spot number one.

Shared with Memoires for Android
http://market.android.com/details?id=net.nakvic.dromoris
http://sites.google.com/site/drodiary/


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Projection

So I have had 4 separate people now tell me that Tiny Tina from Borderlands was based on me or that I am her in real life. The scariest part is that I am insanely flattered, when I’m pretty sure a sane person would start getting really worried and a little horrified about the image they’ve been giving off to people around them.


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Happy Place Dream Board

A big frumpy soft and cozy sweater.

A comfy place with lots of sunlight to sit and drink coffee or read and write things down.

Metal road signs mixed with colorful cheerful art on the walls.

Cracks in the ceiling painted to look like vines and trees.

A front porch just big enough for two chairs where I can sit cozy drinking tea or beer and wave at the neighbors.

A tiny garden with herbs and vegetables.

Slowly but surely I’m getting an idea of what kind of life would make this girl feel happy and safe.