The Christmas Party.

I set my coat on the hooks that hung in the small room.I hope I don't drink to much and forget my jacket. I do that all the time. I mean not at Christmas parties, just in general. I forget shit, a lot when I drink. And lord knows I don't want to come back.

The hellos are said and the side kisses given. I am introduced to the same people year after and yet it's the same strange handshake and confused squint of the eyes, headed tilted slightly to the side as if they were pretending to search for the name.

It's ok. I don't care about you either. Glad we shared this moment.

Then I saw him. Standing with a beer in his hand. Dark sweater, something his mother probably asked him to wear. So sexy. I have this thing I do when I'm bored. If there is anyone in near view I find remotely attractive at the first glance I imagine them naked immediately. Even women. It's just what I do. I'm bored a lot.

I see my mother, she scurries over grabbing by the arm and walking me around the house gossiping and being genuinely very intrigued by the evening. I was always so curious as to how she can always be entertained by these people. None the less she is. I keep him in view as often as I can for this little venture I look over and see my sister, she gives me a sympathetic look and then dodges the bullet by walking the opposite direction. Bitch. I'll live I supposed as soon as I can make it over to the little bar...so close, I can smell the whiskey. So close. I come to when I realize that we are nearing this attractive stranger in the dark sweater that is gorgeous naked. I think. My mother mentions that it is so and so son and that he is now working for his father doing something I am sure is interesting. She releases when she sees someone a little more likely to know what she has been gabbing on and on about for the past twenty minutes. I go to the bar. I am singing a little song in my head...it goes whiskey so good to me, get through tonight, and I'll have some more tomorrow night! It's a shitty song, but its nice in my head. I pour some sweet Crown in the glass packed with ice and a splash of water and wallah! It's the holidays!

I'm bored again. And just saw somebody naked that I really hoped I could erase. That's what happens 3 whiskey waters deep and sisters with kids. Lame.

"What are you drinking?" I look behind me. Yes! Dark sweater guy. Where have you been?

"Whiskey water," I said. Am I slurring? Who cares.
"Would you care for another?" He asks. I'm not sure if he is just being polite or if he is trying to get me drunk enough to go to the coat closet. Either way. I'm game.
"Why yes good sir, I would like another." I say in my worst English accent. That's another thing I do when I'm bored. Well bored and drunk.

He comes back with my drink. We chat. His name is Michael he going to Oregon State to be a doctor. He plays golf, but put himself through the first 4 semesters running track. He had a long term girlfriend, but they broke up because he hasn't purposed yet and she wanted more. Blah, blah, blah. He was
funny, sexy and single. Hmmm. Gay perhaps?

"Well a little about me I suppose...I graduated with a psychology degree I'm current working as a bartender, because I guess I missed the part where nobody gives a shit about philosophy or psychology, I can't bring myself to get my masters to do anything worth a damn so I am saving up to travel the world. I left my high school sweetheart, because I realized I hate him and imagine every word that comes out of his mouth feels like it contradicts my very existence. I come to this Christmas party every year to make my mother happy. And I find you very physically attractive."

"Oh and my name is Alice."

I try to read his face, but then realize I have one eye shut. Damn. Such a lush. To my surprise he starts laughing. Really hard.
"Are you for real? Do you really say things like that to strangers?" Michael asks me in between laughs.
"Well yeah. I guess I do." That's my reply, as I eyeball my empty glass.
"I like it. You don't find that much in the medical program." He says still laughing standing up and grabs my drink. He walks over to the bar and pours me another. Good man.
He comes back over and just looks at me. Yes! I know this look, I know it, I don't care how long it's been! I know this look!
Moments later the good little doctor/track star isn't so polite. We walk back to the coat area and its too congested. We find the only other unlocked door. The gym...hmm. I suppose there is a time for everything. For lack of detail I can only say we made use of every machine, bench, mat and despite my already dehydrated state, the sauna.

Shortly after we pull ourselves together and join the party. He also discloses that he is not working for his Dad and after the Christmas break will indeed be going back to Oregon. Wonderful. No chance of anything coming of this exciting little venture.
Disappointed, yes. Someone to Facebook stalk for the next six months to pass time, yes. I'll take it.

All in all, this was to be deemed the second best Christmas party I have ever been forced to come to.

Porn; The Cop Out.

I have always been ok with porn. Never for it, nor against it. I have watched close friends battle with its afflicting powers and helpless girlfriends putting themselves through miserable comparisons, letting insecurities bleed out from them as they wonder what it is that makes them not enough for their men. I know it takes two types of women to deal with a partner that watches porn openly or secretly. One is the type that simply does not care, who is glad that his sexual interests have been placed else where so she does not have to "deal with it".The other she is one with iron clad confidence, and she looks down on you, feels bad almost. She wonders why you need that when you have the real thing, why do you want to watch other people?
This brings me to the cop out theory. It's not gay when guys what another man with what looks like a mutated third leg, bull doze through some broken wing of an eighteen year old girl, who was just going to do this once, to get by until she was discovered. It's normal and hott, because that's what they want to do...right? Wrong! Guys don't watch porn because they are awesome, they watch porn because they are lazy. Ordinary people are lazy. People who have no sexual creativity are ordinary. Hence my theory...

Porn is for ordinary people.

Tumblr Famous.?

I don't understand picture blogs like Tumblr. I think the purpose is to expose pictures that somehow relate to you and for people to pick up on the general message of what you are about. How is this true individual self expression, or unique for that matter. I like looking at cool pictures as much as the next person, but come on photo blog? You didn't even take the pictures you are posting. When people tell me to check out there Tumblr, I find it really strange. Beside the selfies that you have edited, I have no idea what message you are trying to send across. I don't know you. I'm a writer. I use my words. What are you?

Sometimes Vol. 2

Sometimes you have to be yourself. Even when you hate yourself. Even when you defeat yourself. Even when you are in the trenches of your worst sides. Why?

Because it shows fucking character that's why.

Do you.

Cliché

Nothing bothers me like a cliche...Brief examples: extremely good looking persons being good at everything, or guys with thick black Ray Ban glasses constantly trying to make everything from reading a book  and drinking coffee, to taking a shit look artistic.

It's like having sex for the first time on prom night...it's stupid.

I am sad to say that movies, books and other sources of social media are all seemingly falling to this silent giant. The pink elephant in the room, the ending everyone knew was coming. It's like watching the Titanic and hoping to be surprised. I am dying to read or watch something new. Something that has nothing to do with Marvel Comics (with of course the exception of Thor). And let's face there is only so many Woody Allen movies you can watch before your like "oh! and everyone ends up alone and disappointed, but reflecting on the greater message that was trying to be conveyed", there is no greater message Woody Allen is as fucked as they come.

I'll admit it. Sometimes I'm even a bit trite. I love a good cry in the tub and having sex in the rain during a lighting storm. But still I can not except that this is were all it all ends. On remakes and sequels and columns used with shitty spin offs. Come fellow artists let's give something to lay new ground work with. I am a patriot of the creative outlet. I'll also admit, I need to be inspired. So let's help each other out, and see where we can get.

Sometimes I Get A Good Feelin'.

...And then again sometimes I don't.

For the first time today I looked up the word Masochist.

mas·och·ist

[mas-uh-kist]

1.

Psychiatry . a person who has masochism,  the condition in which sexual or other gratification depends on one's suffering physical pain or humiliation.

2.

a person who is gratified by pain, degradation, etc., that is self-imposed or imposed by others.

3.

a person who finds pleasure in self-denial, submissiveness, etc.

This is very alarming to me because truth be told, I relate with all three related definition of this word. On a very, very small positive note, to my relief I have indeed been using this word correctly and in the right context. Point Alisha!

I realized this though tonight, as I sit at home alone I ran though all the things I could possibly do for fun alone. First thing that came to mind, smoking. Just one on the porch to enjoy the last evenings of the summer. Then came the idea to drink and smoke. Then drink, smoke and write. Oh! The wild animal I have become. All of those aspersions were quickly squashed when I realized that I would not be stopping to buy cigarettes and I had no shesha at home to fill my hookah. And my half bottle of three day old chardonnay wasn't going to do the trick alone. So I settled for the half pint of Haagen Dazs Swiss Vanilla Almond Ice Cream and the company of my dog.  After I finished my ice cream and the self loathing set in, I decided to visit the Internet to get caught up on things I give no shits about. I find women that are better shape then me and the look around at things I can't afford. If I am feeling like having a real wild night I might poke around my boyfriends ex-girlfriends Facebook to try and get my fix. Fix of what?!?!?!?! Who the fuck does that?!?!?! (everyone I am suspecting)

I will be forced to direct you to the word and definition following at the top of the page. That is what I am. A masochist. Things aren't good, unless they are bad. That is how that definition should read. 

With all that said I realized what a little baby bitch I sound like. And I don't like to sound like one of those. I will get a good feeling again, and hold on to that son of a bitch as if it had every last ounce of my will to live. I will party more, bitch less, be even more awesome, have more sex, not gain weight, show more cleavage, travel, be a good girlfriend, finish my laundry and be someone you would like to meet.
                                                     I hope you are as excited as I am.

 

Birthday Card to myself....

Happy Birthday Alisha,

Today you are 22 years old. You'll never be as young as you are today.
I know that you are feeling surreal. It's 2012, your peers are graduating from college now,
you are starting to get antsy. Never in a million years did you think that you would still be
in Reno, NV having ended up dropping out of college not once, but twice. Sucking up you pride
and going to beauty school how realistically you always wanted to, but told yourself you were to good for.

Now you are here, at 22. Where is here? I'll tell you...

Here is starting to realize why your parents may have done some of the things they did, and moving past that. Being able to look at them in the eye's with gratitude now knowing they did the best they could.

Here is having a incredible friendship that has lasted through the times, alcohol, abuse, hurt, happiness, good, bad, ski boots and pissed pants. An unconditional, unjudged, untainted connection.

Here is having the first relationship that might be the last. And for the record. Expectation is different from hope.

You have done some cool shit. You have done some stupid shit. You have done some mean shit. You have done some ballsy shit and some skanky shit. You have done some smart shit and some noble shit.

All in all you are in your twenties. This is were you have always wanted to be. Enjoy it. It only lasts until it's gone. If I can offer you any advice, slow down. Be smart, save some God damn money for a rainy day. You don't act like you should always, but give yourself some credit your doing the best you can. And it's not that bad.

Stop judging people, especially for you own personal amusement. You can be such an asshole sometimes.

Write more, you might be good at.

Workout more, it makes you look nice.

Have a great Birthday, see you in a year.

Always,

Alisha

Crossing My Fingers.

         I have done this most of my life. Closed my eyes tight, pinched my fingers tightly behind my back and hoped for the best. This has applied  to all areas of my life... exams, bills, jobs, consequences, boyfriends ect. It pains me though. Nine times out of ten I am let down, practicing the definition of insanity. I do the same thing over and over again. I hate it. The worst part is I genuinely expect a different result. Then another thing happens, say the odds land in my favor? Then I am immediately suspicious as to this outcome, and then find myself waiting constantly for the other shoe to drop.
         I'll be honest with the good people of the internet world. I am not a naturally happy women. I have to work at it. I work at it very hard. Some days not so much as others. Sometimes the venom can flow freely without so much as a second thought, seeping bitterness into every word I dare write. Then on the good days I think of a hopeful day, when I am not convinced almost every act from people is not a personal attack.
     I want to believe that good things just happen, because they do. I want to believe the man I am with will be good to me forever, and that all feelings don't eventually run out.
I want to believe that my parents will stay together forever and that my younger sisters will grow up and make better choices then I did. I want to believe that my best friend, will always be my best friend and that partying all night will always be fun. I want to believe that the President is doing the best he can, and that when I graduate there will be a job waiting for me. I want to believe when I get married it will be because we love each other and not because "it's about that time". I want to believe that someday I will believe all of these things....but until then I am just crossing my fingers.

OMG! What's your gamer tag? Blah.

Truth. I have never seen the original Star Wars. And to many peoples dismay those close to me and those not so close to me, I have never really had any real interest in seeing these pop culture films. It could be because growing up, I was busy being obsessed with my own fantasy world that was filled with mermaids, rocket ships, Atlantis and Hogwarts. I think the reason I have actually taken a stand now to avoid this pop culture bullshit is because I find it a total cop out. People for instance use iconic movies  for a great conversation starter to show each other how well versed they are in these things that they could have in common. When I here a girl telling a guy how in love with Halo she is, I can't help but role my eyes and hope that all the gamer lingo she looked up on Google doesn't run out before she has a chance to take him home and trap him with her voodoo vagina.
It's bullshit. Girl's have been taking the same avenue to get attention for decades. My personal favorite is one that involves physical activity. Such as running, hiking, climbing, snowboarding...and sure enough when it comes time to preform we fall short of set expectation. I guess all I am really trying to get across is have a little faith in your ability as a person to meet people with different interests and see who comes to you. You are interesting, the strange sideshow of thoughts that run though your head are probably worth hearing. So if you could stop talking about how you have always wanted to dress up like slave Leia, and have an actual conversation about things that could be mutually interesting. I can only assume people could get so much farther in communication and thus finding what they are ultimately looking for...someone to relate to. For the record my boyfriend/living partner is obsessed with Star Wars and has threatened to leave me on several occasions for having not witnessed that awesomeness that is needs to bestow upon me.  And on the same note we are still together. Find other things to talk about, it feels a lot better when you aren't pretending to be interested.

"I AM A LADY".

Today I woke up wearing nothing but thigh high stockings and a smile. The perfect start to a day if  you were to ask me. As soon as I finally convinced myself to get out of the warmth of my bed, I made my way over to the bathroom. I looked and the mirror saw my hair a mess, the faint traces of make-up from the night before and the bands of the stocking pinching just lightly slightly above my knee. And I have to be honest, I felt like a sex kitten.
        That little moment made me realize for some reason that I haven't seen a real pretty woman in a long time. Don't get me wrong I am not saying waking up looking like a call girl is the end all on being a lady, but the idea of waking up in stocking and still having perfume on from the night before is sexy to me. It's being a lady. I look around me and it is more then apparent that some women give two shits about what they look like. Have you ever been to the DMV and seen women in there looking like death warmed over? I have. And the only thing I would like to tell women like that is stop this madness. i look at some women who have gone out the night before and for some reason sticking a bun on top of your head and not washing your make up off is a suitable way of showing up to work. I think not, I wouldn't go to the mail box looking like that, let alone my place of work. The more time I spend on social networking sites the more time I spend reading what assholes men are and seeing pictures of girl on toilets (not an exaggeration).
       If you want to be treated like a lady, then I suggest you act like one. For instance lets try not being wheeled out of the casinos, puking in every bar bathroom we go into, and if we have breasts bigger then DD lets try not wearing a strapless dress. All lite suggestions. If you want your boyfriend to make you feel beautiful, why don't you get your ass out of his sweatpants, put something sexy on, stop bitching about your weight and give him a massage. It's pretty simple. And if you want a life partner in general keep it together ladies. Everyone of us has something to offer from beauty to intelligence to creativity. But it is hard to see that, when you think that yoga pants and Ugg boots qualify as a entire seasons outfit choices.
     Talking to a friend of mine that I admire as the true lady she is, says she can spot a real lady by her toes. If everything else in her appearance is pristine, but when you look down through her peep toe wedges and see the clipped and gnarled truth within in them, she deems you a poser. Of a lady that it. Now some of the women who read this are going to be disgruntled, annoyed and even a little hurt. And I have only one thing to say to them, try harder. 

Money Talks.

The sexiest thing a man can do, is foot the bill.

 I am not talking about the guy at the club you hustle for a couple drinks, he is a douche bag and ladies you are all blood- sucking she devils for participating in such behavior.
I am talking about the real deal. A nice meal with good wine or whiskey, that says, "hi, you are worth my time, energy and money." When you guys are just walking the mall and he picks you up something you have been drooling over for months. That is sexy. It's truly not about the money, but what its saying. It's saying, " Thank you, you are appreciated, you are valued." Women who state that they don't need help from a man or anybody, are awesome don't me wrong. And I think it goes without saying that men do not want to live off of their girlfriends/wives/ roommates or anyone for that matter. So when a guy goes out of his way to give a little extra in the direction of someone who is already self-sufficient, it feels even more amazing. There is no guilt, no feelings of obligation. Just a mutual understanding that you want to give to this person, just because.

This goes for ladies too. If you know that he wants the new Call of Duty: Everybody Must Die, go ahead and splurge a little.  However, if you are going to be participating in this please do it right. If you are going to be forking out cash for your man, do it for HIM! This does not mean you buy a trip for two at a creepy bed & breakfast you think is "too cute", were you guys sit and talk about your feelings all weekend. Why you would want to do that in the first place is beyond me.

To be honest there are a couple things that got me going on this thought path. 1.) Guys complaining about how there are no good women and how terrible relationships are. 2.) How a broken person like me, has found a little ray of sunshine. And I would like others to feel it too.

Guys there are good girls out there, you just have look. Hard. Really hard. Really, really hard. And when you see some potentional in one, don't wait to act. Treat them as if they could be that diamond in the rough. Buy dinner, pick some fucking flowers, paint a picture. Do whatever it takes to let them know that you think they are a person worth spending time and money on. In return, blowjobs. I mean a really nice gal. And even the possiblity to stop being that guy who gets hustled for drinks at the bar every Friday night.

Food for thought. Think about it.

I'm convinced.

You're in an amazing relationship. You status updated said so.

Clearance. Everything Must Go. 2012

        It's that time of year again. The time when everyone starts over and makes false commitments in hopes of a better life with the new year to come. I personally always get a little sad. Because the beginning of something new almost always leads to the end of something else. This is the time of year for reflection, as humans the bad always seems to stick out more then the good. However it is very important that we truly evalute and determine all the things we wish to change the good and the bad. Seems as though a lot of us are trying to live more simply, expecting a little less and even giving when it is not convient. I commend you and feel free to continue being awesome.
       As for the rest of us, tie up lose ends. Apologize when you see the error of your ways. Stick to your beliefs and have some conviction. If a relationship is dead, let it rest in peace. If something needs to get done, do it yourself. Branch out, there are more people then your co-workers in the world. Make you boyfriend/girlfriend dinner when you know they've had a long day. Call your grandma. Let other people be happy. Stop talking to other girls boyfriends. Brush your teeth twice a day. And make 2012 your bitch.

Happy Fucking New Year.