Speak for the weak.

Some days I feel utterly useless. It's on those days where I want to help the world with one touch. It's only when the scene sets in and documentary is shut off that I'm brought back to the surroundings of my small feet and small hands. I don't blame my petite body for my lack of get-out-there-and-do-something mentality, but I do blame my distraction.

I get distracted by my own problems such as thirst, hunger, pain from a stubbing my toe or cramps because it's that time of the month. But my stomach turns as soon as I watch these documentaries of those who do thirst, but no water is brought towards their mouths. Those who hunger, but no food is brought forward to fill their bellies. The pain and agony of diseases that seem uncontrollable in their population, while no cure is found. The cramps that every woman may get, but that cannot compare to how they worry what their children will eat next.

It's things such as these that make my individualistic point-of-view seem disgusting. I almost want to slap my wrist and ask myself what I'm doing. Why am I still here? Why aren't I out in the world, seeing these things, writing about them, looking for answers?

I've been put here for some kind of purpose, correct? Not to just sit in an office, working Monday through Friday and having Saturday as a relaxation day. Why can't I see this side of myself everyday? This side where I'm suddenly charged with helping the needy and the homeless. I feel like those dollar bills that I give out to the poor on the roads aren't nearly enough for what is going on in other countries.

Maybe one day I will. Maybe when my intellect grows and my mind is set beyond myself and beyond my needs (which will hopefully be soon), then I can finally grow to become that person to reach out their hand and show the kind of love that has never been shown before. One day I will speak for the weak.

Tracing

I've been seeing this really great new guy and I've never really realized how much fun it is to have someone who truly wants to know me. He asks about my days, he wants to know about my past, texts me to have a great day and if I get angry, he will stare at me for a creepingly long time until I'm smiling again... and it completely tickles me.

The car rides with him are pretty spontaneous. He hates my sense of direction, but he loves to serenade me with his horrible voice (see: Meet Virginia - Train). He will randomly ask how much I like him on a scale of 1-10, and why I like him. I find it humorous, until I realize he's absolutely serious. I tell him he's at a four, but maybe he'll improve (really, he's at a ten). Then I asked why he likes me and he said one thing that bounces around my head. I believe it was the third reason that he was on...

"You balance me out."

I liked that. Although he spills waters on me in restaurants as he clumsily tries to pass the bread, and calls me out on everything ("You just wanted to touch my hand"), I still think he sits at a ten. It's pretty strange how you go from one relationship, thinking you're supposed to be with them, but when it comes down to the core of it all, the lighted reality, it turns out you're just posing two puzzle pieces together, hoping one day that the fit - but they never will.

Then there's him.

I hope I'm not jumping the gun or falling too quickly, because that would not only be embarrassing, but slightly annoying. I would blame my level of emotions as a girl and become the neighborhood cat lady.

I'll try to guide the relationship by a line from "Tracing" by John Mayer as much as possible.

"There is a reason strong moves slow"

Right? Right. But don't doubt for a second I won't become that cat lady.

Yawn

I'm really tir....

Sorry. My eyes and ears can only handle so much death and destruction via XBOX. I'm sitting here listening to Matt and John play some stupid game, when all I'd like to do is pass the flock out. It would feel absolutely great given the fact that I got home from a Hillsong concert at 1 in the morning and had to be up by 7:30 this morning.

The Hillsong concert was great, by the way.

There were a good 4,000 people there and it was just a Jesus hoppin' good time.

Jesus does too hop.

Oh and guess who text (is the right term 'texted', because I hate that term) me last night. That's right - the ex. It wasn't too eventful. Just wondering why we're not friends, why I moved on, and that "he wasn't upset". I feel like I'm bashing or talking smack... so... here's a sorry in advance. But really, what did he expect? For me to paint my walls black, wear heavy eyeliner and cry to Dashboard Confessional? That's a no bueno in my book.

If you don't see anymore posts, it's probably because I've died from Matt's gas leak. He's blaming the steak. Everyone's dead.

The Kitty, Eel and Dingo.

This was before Matt realized he should put the kitty down because he is highly allergic. Also before we had this conversation...

Matt: "I guess I should have only taken one Benadryl..."
Chelsea, Jessica, Stephen, Me: "How many did you take?!"
Matt: "Three."

And then, finally, before we all got worried Matt would not be able to drive home due to his intense drowsiness that soon followed. I tried reading the label and where it read "May cause drowsiness" but to no avail, he still lost that battle.

This all occurred while we were in the midst of playing Nerts. I know, I did not know what it was until Saturday, so really... don't fret. I was told it was oodles of fun and it turned out to be the type of fun that lasts from 9:30PM until 2:00 AM. The game should have the tags of 'Violent' and 'Not kid friendly', because there was so much intensity that bashing one another with names was a must. There was great guacamole, too. Did I mention how much I love guacamole? Well, I love it.


Speaking of delicious things, I've gotten highly addicted to Sushi lately. I went last Tuesday, Saturday, and then yesterday.



Say 'Mmm', please. The thing that looks like squeezed chicken is actually Eel, and I highly recommend it. That is, if you're not allergic to things that lurk in the ocean... because then I'd feel really bad... because that would be my fault for kind of recommending it to you when you could possibly die. I want you to live, okay? Did I mention that I love guacamole?

And this amazing book is something you may find on an adventure to the clearance section of Books-A-Million. I mean, if you're in to knowing the birds of world. I love creepiness. Did I mention I love guacamole?

Is anyone watching American Idol tonight!? You should really know I'm rooting for Kris and his lovely cords. I think I'd rather have a Dingo win than see Adam Lambert and his eye liner take it home. Every time he does that tongue action on the mic, I get a bit more freaked out than before. Did I mention I love guacamole?

Now I must hop back to work. I've decided to start hopping everywhere I go. Did you just believe that? You did. You think I hop. Well, take this

Hip hop hippopotamus. Bam.

Ruthless.

While most will hit the infamous Rebound Button after a failed relationship, I am a person who opts for the Delete Button. This one seems to stick out more and rebounding seems pointless. Why break someone elses heart for being selfish? The Delete Button has so many more opportunities. It even comes with music!

When I heard "I'm Gonna Find Another You" by John Mayer, I actually started laughing. One of those laughs you get annoyed with in a restaurant, because it comes from the overweight lady that is sitting two tables over, whose conversation is already too loud. Except I'm not overweight. I typically don't do the listentosulkymusicandbedepressed thing. If I can avoid sadness, I will throw punches. But this songs seems to help with the punches and it makes me feel fanfreakingtastic.

"It's really over, you made your stand. You got me crying, as was your plan. But when my loneliness is through, I'm gonna find another you. You take your sweaters, you take your time. You might have your reasons, but you will never have my rhyme. I'm gonna sing my way away from blue. I'm gonna find another you. When I was your lover, no one else would do. If I'm forced to find another, I hope he looks like you . Yeah and he's nicer, too."

My Delete Button is tasteful and, what I believe, isn't too harsh. Sure, you wanted to keep in contact with me, but whoever said that I would want to keep in contact with you? What the hell is contact anyway? Calls? Count me out. Text message? Count me out. Plus, you never could do that in the relationship anyway. I'd rather not bother with it at all. The impact that you've had on my life is minimal. You've only taken away the fact that I will never again receive a promise ring with an open finger or mindset. Other than that, you already live states away, your phone calls were scarce and answered text messages were always surprises.

My conclusion, like many others, is that I deserve better, and I do. I deserve someone who can remember the fact that my favorite color is orange and when I get nervous, I bite the sides of my nails. Maybe I'll even get lucky enough to come across someone who will call me at a reasonable time of the night - responsibility means working 9AM-4PM, not talking on the phone at odd times of the night because we're always on your time.

It seems bitter, but, babe, it's not out of strife. You just did not belong in my life and because I opened that door, I paid hundreds in plane tickets. Crap.

Lesson learned! Delete.

My movie weekend.

I want to talk about my weekend and how adventurous it was. Also, because I know you're really dying to hear about it, so why not?
Friday I just so happened to have morphed into a Trekkie for the night...

Trekkie

... and I went to see Star Trek with a group of friends. Only Matt and I found it remotely humorous, while Chelsea cried within the first 10 minutes of the movie. The only amusing part was the fact that someone in the group decided to crawl on the theater floor in an attempt to scare me. It was successful. Oh, and the guy playing Kirk was so much of a hunk that I had a dream that night of marrying him.

I went to my niece's first birthday on Saturday, where it was, apparently, BYOB for the older folks. I was a little taken back, so I opted not to stay too long. My night was then burrito filled! Chelsea and I went to Tijuana Flats and filled our bellies with beans and chicken, and filled our minds with crazy talk. Then others called to come over and watch movies, but first I had to poop. Don't judge my fast metabolism! So, I rushed home, pooped, changed, and moseyed on over. We watched Changling all the way through, only to come to the conclusion that we just wasted almost three hours of our lives watching a stickly Angelina Jolie repeat the lines "That's not my son!". Then Holly suggested we pop in Tropic Thunder to rid the awful hours we just endured. I must admit, Robert Downey, Jr. is such a great actor; however, I did not have dreams of marrying him.

Sunday was mom's day and she hated her presents, so we'll call it unsuccessful. But later that night I got a call from Chelsea telling me to come over and eat pizza. I could not resist that, but I did look in the mirror, saw my hair still in a towel and my toenails unpainted, and still, pizza outweighed this. I then sat there until 1 AM watching Matt, John, Holly and Chelsea put together furniture... as I sat on Facebook and Blogger. I felt pretty bad about this, but I did not know where to begin. I helped clean up a pizza box, though. Then we decided to watch 300, and I lasted 30 minutes and realized that I had to be at work at 9AM. It was not a good combo. I had eye twitches all the next day.

One more thing. I just got to work and I went to the bathroom, only to find my black shirt covered in deodorant spots. No one cared to tell me this. Not the lady I see every day at 7-11, not an old gym member I ran in to or my co-workers. I'm a little offended or embarassed... or a little of both.

Do you care about any of this? Not at all, but that's okay! Let's do the robot together.

Oh, momma bean.

Happy Mommy's Day!

Isn't she pretty?