I heard a joke at Oswald’s last night:
There was a family sitting around the dinner table. A dad, a son, a mom and a daughter. The father, talking to his young and maturing son, asked him if he knew how many types of boobs there were in the world. His son responded with a shrug and a curious eye toward his father. His father’s reply was three.
“There are the melons: they’re full and juicy and have so much goodness to them. There are also pears, which kind of droop but still have some good meat to them, and then there are the onions that are shriveled and ugly and make you cry.”
The mother, overhearing her father’s poor choice in life lessons, in response, asks her daughter if she knows how many types of dicks there are in the world. Again, her response was three.
“There is the oak: strong, long and is sturdy enough to provide for many years. Then there is the birch, which is still strong but not as much and has a tendency to wither. And of course, there’s the Christmas trees. They’re good for about three weeks then they dry up and the balls are only for show.”
You hear a lot of dirty jokes when you date. Apparently, it’s a good ice breaker, but I’m really getting sick of them. The jokes and the dates….and the dates who are total jokes.
It’s been six months of dating…give or take. And already, I’m looking into getting my tubes tied and my uterus removed and my tits chopped off. I am absolutely disgusted with the male population.
Not one. NOT ONE man that I have dated in the last six months has even been remotely interested in who I am as a person but is rather more interested in my lady bits and chest baubles. Are you fucking kidding me? Pardon my french, which…by the way? Totally not a come-on to making out! Seriously, everything that I’ve said or thing that I’ve dressed in or ordered off of a menu has been taken by my date in a sexual manner. I’m so frustrated. I’m so discouraged. I’m so confused when it comes to why dudes even try? Is that all they want? To breed? Is that REALLY all the capacity of their minds is limited to? No….no. I shouldn’t say that. Men are so much more than that…there’s also money and the different types of games and contests in which they can flaunt their talents to other males to show who is better.
WHY HAVE MEN NOT EVOLVED?!?!
All I want is someone to care. Someone to listen. Someone to notice that I’m frustrated or tearing up and ask me what’s wrong, or what they can do to make it better. I want someone to understand me, and as I’ve feared before, perhaps, maybe I’m just not meant to be understood.
In other news, I’m strongly considering going back to school. For what? I’m not quite sure of yet. I’ve meddled with the idea of children’s literature, teaching, children’s psychology…but I do think I want to emphasize more of my time and learning on children or teenagers. How I get that to come to fruition, or how I am able to afford it will be a different story. Perhaps I’ll just get the books some of those classes recommend and work through those myself.
I just don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I don’t have a goal, I don’t feel like I have much purpose…I can’t see the future; and at some level, you have to be able to see what’s ahead of you, so you have something to work towards. I just feel so lost and so jaded and so bent. Ruptured. Useless. No matter what I put my mind to, my mind doesn’t care.
This is a new kind of depression. This is a new kind of numbness. It’s almost blind depression where the body is doing what it should be doing (working, sleeping, eating, whatever…) and the mind just sits in a grey mist in my mind. (This could totally be Seasonal Affective Depression talking.)
It was only two weeks ago I was in California having the time of my life…and it already feels like it was years and years ago. I’d never felt so happy. There was nobody there that I knew, so no one had preconceived notions about who I was or what I stood for; no one gave a shit about my existence. Let me tell you, that feeling of knowing you exist and you don’t all at the same time is kind of beautiful. But again, only good for so long. I want to exist to someone.
And if I can’t? Then I’ll just make my own existence that much better. I will not be waiting around for Mr. Right or Mr. Possibly or Mr. Thatwasfun. I’m going to start living my life for me.
I want to get out of this shitty little town. I want to have a job or a career path that makes me feel like I’m doing something worth a damn and not just pushing around the small town gossip with a pre-approved broom. And? I want to fucking have fun. I feel sooooo, so, so, so imprisoned here– like everyone is watching me. And they are. My parents are, my bosses are, the people who read my Facebook are. I don’t want people to even notice me let alone watch my every move!
I’m being choked out, like when you put your hand over a candle jar and you watch the smoke fill up and the flame flicker out. I’m flickering out. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just need something to happen to get my motivation going again…