Destination Self: The stuff of fantasies

It’s nearly 4am on Monday morning and my brain is going a 1000 miles an hour.  This month… this year… everything has become such a wonderful blur of busy that…

Six months ago, I didn’t know what was going to happen to me.  Now, I’m happening to me.

I have been fighting a long time to garner success.  Los Angeles is a city where dreams are made and often broken.

Not many people know this, but I have been battling with a lot.  For an “oversharer” I don’t share quite a bit more.  It’s difficult being in a spot where people are watching you.

I was on a bus in Chicago last weekend and I saw a bum babbling about.  It made think even more about the paths that I’ve gone. About how far I’d come from being a little girl in pigtails living in suburbia Illinois.

“This guy is sitting here instead of a mental health facility because no one cares.  Is it better for someone to care or is it better that people don’t?”

Something I’ve struggled with for a long time is this.

The change my grandfather gave me has taken another form.

I’d said at the beginning of the year that this is the time where I finally get everything I’ve dreamed of.  And here it is February and it’s happening.

  • I have a great job with a technology company that was rated one of the 10 best places to work in. There’s enormous growth opportunity.
  • I have been doing a lot more writing- including a piece where I was fortunate enough to interview pinup artist legend Olivia De Beradinis and 1960s Batman series star Julie Newmar. Afterwards, I watched a surise in Malibu.
  • My bike is fully operational and running again.  However I’m buying another one in the near future… with self propelled wheels.
  • I have multiple photoshoots in the works.  That’s right, I’m finally working on that modeling portfolio I’ve been wanting to do for some time now.  If you’re reading this and want to schedule a shoot, email me.
  • I flew cross country to meet a fantasy man who has adored me from afar for 4 years.  When I saw him, it felt like the opening scene in this video… and that’s not even the half it.

Life is pretty surreal right now.  However with that also comes the multiple stresses that have come about due to these successes which,  for once, seem to only keep coming.

For the longest time I have been fighting to get to this point in my life.  Now that it’s happening, part of me is scared shitless.

In the midst of all these mind blowing events, the following has also happened- and all within the last week and a half:

  • My bank card was compromised despite not leaving my purse.  At this time someone made multiple charges to gas stations out of the area.  While the funds have gone back into my account, I still have not gotten a replacement card over 2 weeks later.  I flew cross country to Chicago with hundreds of dollars in cash in my purse on public transportation just in case of an emergency while out there.
  • Going on the trip back to Chicago was mind blowing.  I’m not even talking about the person I met (although he is magical as well… that’s another story in itself).  I saw things about Los Angeles that made me remember why I was so hesitant to stay here.  I saw things about Chicago that I didn’t get the chance to experience much whilst living a mere 45 minutes away.  I felt the warm embrace of a city life I’d always dreamed of.  It made me do a lot of thinking about these other worlds out there.  About a city that is so warm even if it’s blustering cold outside.  Of the opposite scenario.  About how both of these worlds have opened my eyes to more about myself.
  • An enormous potential opportunity for my writing may be in the works.  While I can’t reveal exactly what, whom it would potentially be with or anything else, let’s just say it’s one of those things that is the stuff of dreams.
  • I pitched something elsewhere and that was also taken with positive reception.  I am so busy as it is, but yet I keep adding more to my plate.
  • My sleep schedule has officially broken.  When I was in Illinois, I could barely sleep.  Now I’m back and I either can’t sleep much at all or I’m sleeping too much.
  • Did I mention I met someone who had previously been a fantasy?  Do you have any idea how life altering that is?  I flew 2000 miles away to meet this man and he not only met but exceeded my expectations.  Should be easy right?  No.  With the whole 2000 miles it commands a lot of patience.  My brain is jelly and is now coping with the clash of reality and fantasy becoming one and the same.  Things will happen organically if they are meant to happen.  I’m stepping back and breathing.  I don’t have anything to worry about so I should stop worrying.  This one, is essentially the least of the things I am/should be worrying about, but alas, its on my mind because its one of the realest romances I have experienced… and it came out of a fantasy.
  • My mother called to remind me about how it’s wrong to be the way that I am essentially.  My whole existence to her is taken with such disdain.  From the fact that I didn’t see her whilst in Chicago to her failure to see how I’m busting my ass off for things she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

And that’s just part of it.

I’ve learned so much about me with all of these experiences.

I’m not always the greatest with things.

I may apologize for the times I falter, but this is pillar of life is strong and vibrant.

I know that it’s alright to be vulnerable.

It’s alright to break down.

Without these moments, one wouldn’t be able to sustain things atop the world.

I have aspirations to conquer the world.  I have the ability within me to do it.  I’ve asked for all these dreams to become realities, and now…

This is happening.

This is really happening.

I’m taking a risk by putting this out in the open.  I currently have career opportunities and stability that… well I’ve never really had since my marriage dissipated years ago.  I’ve wanted this.  I’ve dreamed of this.

I told my biggest fan recently:

“I dreamed of you.”

and he told me “I dreamed of you too.”

Another friend of mine and I had a conversation about him before I got on that plane:

(4:16:58 AM) friend: real life dream girls like you don’t happen every day
(4:17:34 AM) me: aww
(4:17:50 AM) friend: it’s true miss
(4:18:08 AM) me: real life dream boys like him don’t happen every day either

So what the hell is my problem?  I’m so much stronger and braver than I’ve been behaving over the past couple of weeks.  To those that have been there with me through it all, I thank you so very much for your patience, compassion, and your unwavering confidence in me.  It means the absolute world to me.

It’s 5am now.  It’s time to get ready for work.  Here comes a 10 hour day in a dream world.  Here’s another day working towards making even more fantasies become realities.  Here’s to another day of me learning more.

Fail often, succeed once.

Today I’m throwing away failure.  Not only am I going to succeed this once but I’m making a commitment to myself to succeed in much more than that.

We have the ability to get everything we want if we only reach out and grab it.

It just takes time.

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And now a tale of a “preacher’s” daughter

Ah Easter Sunday… or in atheist and pop culture, Zombie Jesus Day.  So whichever way you prefer, happy ___ to you.

This weekend has been a bit of a rollercoaster.  I come from a very conservative Roman Catholic background.  My family is very devout with their faith.  They uphold traditions of ritual and wholesome values.  I have the utmost respect for their commitment to the cross, but… well I know that I’m far from it.

I am the sterotypical cliche of a Catholic school girl gone wrong.  I drink, I smoke, I delight in things that are both volatile and scandalous.  I’m an atheist, outspoken, liberal girl who loves rock and roll, fast cars, motorcycles, piercings, tattoos and deviants.  I revel in the throws of passion.

My idea of kneeling down to worship is on my knees in front of that certain someone (or someones).  I am devoted to my work and play- but, well it just isn’t what my family would agree with.    Oh how far the apple falls from the tree.

What daddy doesnt know...

What daddy doesn't know... won't hurt him.

My parents are separated (ie: happier and divorced) and are both entering their second marriages.  Mom still lives back home in Chicago suburbia with her husband that looks like John Denver.  My dad, finally on the path to marrying the one girlfriend he’s had over the years that I get along with best… most of the time.

She’s not Catholic however.  My father is very strict about this.  Ah conversion… this is how I know for sure it’s a cult.  He will not marry her until she completes the process of being one so that they can get married in a church ceremony.  This weekend she was confirmed and got a few other sacraments.  I was invited to go but unfortunately (fortunately) had work to do so I had to postpone until later today.

Ironically as it were, this season I found myself writing copy for a site for singles of all forms… sites to help you meet the millionaire of your dreams, to one night stands to… someone who shares the same faith.   I found myself searching for answers.  Anything to help assist me to write about something I had no connection to.  I found this gem of a website (NSFW):

Pegging is not a sin if you do it with your significant other

Pegging is not a sin if you do it with your significant other

For someone as far from those tracks as I am,  despite the ease of my current project, I found the latter the most difficult piece to write.  Also, since I am currently without a laptop, I can’t exactly just go to my dad’s and ask him to borrow the family PC to write smut copy.  Regardless if I tell him that it’s work (which it genuinely is thankfully), he will tell me its crap.  He doesn’t even need to know what it is to say that either- just that it requires me to be on the internet, and therefore it is evil.

I elected to stay in for a majority of my weekend to work on it, as my soft deadline is Monday morning.  I will be committing a majority of today to family activities far away from this horrible place we call “teh interwebz.”  Friday night was quiet.  I saw the oo shiny of parties and event goings on, but wanted to get some work done.  I took company with a longtime friend from Bakersfield across a screen.

“I sucked as a Christian that’s why i chose Atheism.” I told Tino.

This of course, led to even more ridiculous chats as the first initial reactions as to what to write didn’t exactly make it to print (there at least).

Here’s a few lines from the more… interesting form of copy, in prayer format:

Whenever I go to pray, I ask for a companion.

Oh dearest God… all I want more than anything is…

for someone to fuck me up the ass proper.

I mean!

Dearest Lord please grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and the wisdom to…

know just which guy is not going to need an instruction book to pleasure me in all the ways the devil would…

No!  I mean!

I just want a close friend that I can tell anything…

like don’t be afraid to be man enough to pull my hair and yank on…

And if I could get a really great… ” girl blowjob” that would be awesome too.

I ask this through Jesus Zombie.

Amen.


Ah prayer.. it seems I cannot escape it, even when I’m writing ad copy.  It’s… amazing.  Religion seeps into most everything weather we like it or not.  If you don’t have a sense of humor about it, you will always be set up for heartache.

Yesterday was my “kick butt” class.  It’s my monthly self defense class.  The instructor gives encouraging talks throughout the seminar about real life applications to better enhance what you take out of the class.  It’s one commitment that I have been doing for a few months now.

This month’s class was about pushing your limitations.  We learned just how much you need to push yourself to get what you want.  Hard work and determination will pay off… but only with a commitment to practice and focus.  That said I can now both mentally and physically take your ass down if you mess with me.  Beware LA dating scene or I’m going to fuck you up.

At the end of the class, the instructor wanted us to pay our respects with a very old bow and prayer.  It was not a religious affair, and yet, it seemed as if it were.  The act didn’t bother me though.  I have the utmost respect for the ritualistic nature of religion, even if I don’t practice it.  As long as it’s not shoved down my throat, I can observe in moderation.  Despite being a really bad Catholic by practice (or lack thereof) for my father’s sake, in the right circumstances, I can shine with my knowledge about the faith when sequestered.

So there you have it.   Another lesson from yesterday’s class… you can’t escape your past.  Sometimes you have to embrace it and deal with it head on.  I have a few more pieces to finish and then I’ll be making my way to suburbia to visit the family and have Jesus cake.  Maybe I’ll even wear a dress.  Because well later tonight, there may be a dirty boy in my future.   Papa won’t know any better than to preach.

Etcetera Etcetera, take one & go

early evening Saturday:

It was just an ordinary Saturday night.  I’d gotten a phone call about 6pm to ask if I wanted to go to a show in Anaheim.  It wouldn’t have been gridlock, but I would have been fashionably late.

I’d heard about a party for a friend but wasn’t sure if I was going to go to that either: +1 me anyone?  I have that strange thing called manners and didn’t just want to assume it was cool to attend.  I also waste time worrying occasionally.

I sent a tweet asking which of the beautiful people wanted to hang out.  It was only partially shallow.  Perhaps that beautiful girl I spent my Friday evening with would grace my evening again.  I’d missed her message earlier in the afternoon.  I should have given her my number.  I should have gotten her number.  I have other means of contacting her.  Ah thank you digital age.  Why do some girls turn me into a chicken?

8pm:

My roommate leaves to go hang out with some friends of ours to play video games and drink.  I’m more than welcome to attend.  However I’m on this “I’ve been playing video games all day & it’s a weekend so I don’t want to go out to do something I could essentially be doing at home” kick.  That and something was overheard that I didn’t appreciate

“Either start resisting her or make her give you sex…”

Not cool.  I don’t care if you’re kidding or not.  But what the fuck ever.  I told him I was done talking to them.  Give me a couple of days and I’d have been over it.  I’m allowed to silently overreact and do nothing at the same right?  I’ll use the “I have a vagina” excuse.

815pm:

A friend whom had been traveling messages me to call him.  He hadn’t seen me in awhile and was wondering what I’d been up to.  We did some catching up.  There’s something to be said about a person with as much passion as my friend Wmmarc.  We talked about his travels and my recent rendezvous. Or um.. the ones I don’t talk about. ::Big wink::

“I really want to go to SF again. It’s been a long time.”

“Well maybe you can take the drive up with me sometime when I go again.”

Indeed.  Saying no to a trip to SF with my personal photographer?  Photographic evidence of debauchery?  Oh so tempting.  (To be continued)

845 pm:

I’m still milling over what I’m going to do for the evening.  I’m being a shithead.  It’s not like I didn’t have options.  I nearly went to San Diego for the day.  Someone, somewhere had to have something going on.  And if not, I was going to go on an adventure of my own.  Hell I have mace and I wear heels.  I can hold my own if a clown tries to mug me.

915pm:

I got a text from a friend asking if I was going to the party I’d heard about for the past week.  A formal invitation.  Silly, the friend hosting it had no problem with me going.  I worry too much over nothing and occasionally repeat myself.  I haven’t seen the usual suspects in about a month or so.  I felt like a blip on the social radar… or at least with that circle.

“Text me when you’re on your way.”

945:

Yes, I’m that girl that goes through 10 outfits to pick the first one I tried on.  Once upon a time I wore that top and it gave the illusion I had breasts.  And then the past year happened.  Real women have curves?  Just call me boobzilla.  The ladies looked fabulous.  I got a second opinion and headed out the door- I’ll be damned if I was going to arrive earlier than late enough to be fashionably late.

10pm:

It took a few tries to start the beast.  Silly me, I had a feeling that I should gas up before hitting the freeway.  It only said 6 miles on google maps.  I’m sure I’m fine.

My music was on too loud.  The windows were down.  I hit the 10 and I’m cruising.  I may even be a bit earlier than I thought.  I forgot my smokes.  Damnit.  I can pick up some more if I see a gas station.  No big deal.  You’d think maybe someone was trying to tell me something or something.

1015 pm:

Yeah so now I’m on the Fairfax exit sitting there because of course I ran out of gas.  Damnit damnit damnit.  Where the fuck are the hazards?  Hell if I know in Rob’s truck.

I tried repeatedly to start the damn thing.  All I need is just a little kick to get to a gas station.  Not being overly religious/brainwashed I call upon the powers of the Schwartz.

Come on Schwartz. Come on Schwartz.

Epic fail.  It’s still not starting.  Oh and that button I thought would be the hazards?  It’s the wipers which of course also won’t turn off now.

I’m texting white knights.  Someone please save my dumb ass right now or at least get me to that party so I can deal with the truck later.  I’m far too sober for this.

My roommate is in Marina Del Rey.  He has AAA but would have to be here for them to do anything for me.  He’s 25 mins away.  It’ll take them another 20 to get to me.   Awesome.  Gotta love LA.

1045pm:

A random hot girl knocks on my window as I’m still parked on the damn off ramp.  She apologizes for not stopping sooner.

“Let’s get the truck over to the side.  I’ll grab a guy and we’ll push you.  Just stay inside and steer.”

She asks where I had been going and said she wishes she could have done more.  No one carries a gas can in their car.  Then again most people have cars where their gage works so they don’t need to.

She asks me what happened and I explain.

“I was heading to a party and just ran out of gas.  It’s nothing major, but welcome to LA right?”

She tells me she’s also new to the city.  She’s from San Francisco.  There was a moment of just gazing back and forth.  Damnit why am I such a chickenshit with beautiful women?  I should have gotten her number.  I didn’t think it was the appropriate circumstance or hell, I’d have brought her to the party.  Maybe one night I should fake car trouble.  Oh look I dropped my pen… damsel in distress.

11pm:

I have 2 men at the party ready and willing (ha double entendre) or at very least telling me that they were) to go and find me some help.

“I’m standing at my car right now, just let me know if you need me and I’m on my way.”

Did I mention I hate asking for help?  Because I do.

I’m standing outside my car looking a bit bummed.  Gotta love my luck and horrific planning.  I’m having a “you should have known better moment…”

I’m on the phone with one of these white knights when a couple of rebels pull up.

“We’ll tow you to a gas station.  Just try and start it and put it in neutral so we can get it on the lift.”

Wouldn’t you know it the asshole truck started right up then.  Mother of ::insert explicative ninja’d by Faarbot*::

Bonus points if you get that joke and legitimately know what it’s in reference to.

Super bonus points if you’re an articulate, savy and successful artist/geek.

Super super bonus points if you live and/or have no problem traveling back and forth to/want to use airline miles to send a beautiful nerd girl from LA to another amazing city.

“I’m fixing to steal an Audi a few blocks from here.”

I always did think the whole idea of repo men was a bit hot.  They’re a different kind of calculated prowler than me, but we’re still one and the same; me- out and about wondering where the next blog fodder will pop up, them- stealing cars for a living.

“Three people asked me to tow their cars before I saw you.” he says as he laughs.

Yes, that means I got in the car with 2 random strangers.  As Michael Pilla told me later that night:

“This sounds like the plot of a horror movie or a porno.. either way, you’re fucked…”

Should I not be admitting that I have hitchhiked on purpose without a car trouble related situation quite a few times already?  Oops.  Apparently I fail then.

“I’m a country boy.. That car is hot but with you in it, its that much hotter..”

Yeah, I told you my tits looked fabulous in that top.

11:15:

I’m finally on the way to the party.  The doorman thought I was 18.  When I told him that I’d birthed 3 kids he was shocked.  No one seems to believe that when they see me.  Horray for daddy’s genetics and Wii fit.

I find my friends and the party goes on as only the usual suspects can possibly entertain.  Nicole looked amazing.  It’s hard to believe that she’s what 27?  28?  Is it wrong that I’d forgotten?  Again, did I mention she looked fabulous?  Seriously.

I’d never been to that club before.  I’m still learning the city prowl.  The regular set of friends doesn’t seem to be into the whole club/bar/socialite crawl.  It’s not a big deal but.. well I already talked about that didn’t I?

i don’t remember what time it was because I’m not interested in the time anymore:

I’m telling my friends about what happened on the way to the party.  I can’t believe its been nearly a month since I’ve seen some of them.  Someone smacks me on the ass and I giggle.

“What just happened?”

“Oh someone just smacked my ass.”

“Random ass smacking you say?”

“Sure.” I say with a wink.  (Yes I know exactly who it was by the way)

So there’s this guy I’ve been talking to off and on for the better part of at least a year now.   His doppleganger walks by and I mentioned it to the immediate circle that this guy caught my eye.  I know most everyone in attendance here, but where the hell did he come from?  I had just mentioned on the phone earlier that there needed to be more hot single men in our group.

I’d rather be chased and do the chasing.  I knew I was going to make a way to talk to him somehow.  The guys just made it easier for me.

“You look like someone we know.. who are you?” they said as they pulled him over.

It’s great to have wingmen.  I owe you a drink boys.  I didn’t pick him up.  I just picked him out.

We sat and talked for a good portion of the party.  Video games.  Twitter. 2.0. Where do I fit in here. A little about him.  A little about me.  Etcetera, etcetera etcetera.

If you’re reading this, know that I did catch you looking down a few times.  I believe I said that I noticed but I really did enjoy the introduction so some words may have escaped me.  I could have gone for hours. Take that as you will.

He’s not from around here unfortunately.   From the bay area.  He asked me how far I am from LAX.  I told him 20 minutes.  More like 10 with no traffic, but I neglected to mention that at the time.  Damnit I cockblocked myself.

He kissed me.  On the scale of 1 to 10 with kissing, I’d say it was…

I’m all about passionate kisses in the moonlight in public places.

“I’m glad that I met you.  I didn’t expect to meet anyone tonight, let alone such a great kisser.”

I blushed.  Perhaps I’m cuter when I don’t try.  I’m glad I met him as well.  He was like an unexpected phantom.. the wildcard.

I should have brought him home with me like a souvenir or pulled him into a bathroom.  I hesitated.  I masterbated.  It wouldn’t have been the first time.   There’s something to be said about sex in public.  But there’s still time.  Thank you digital age once again.

3am (yes I’m noticing the time again as now they’re kicking us out of the club):

I’d had a little bit of time with a newly single hot gent.  Yes a different one.

I think the doppleganger was on a bit of sensory overload.  There were a lot of pretty girls there.  A blonde in a blue dress.  A stereotypical hipster cliche.  Hey whatever turns you on.  Personally I’d have gone with the black haired girl in the yellow dress with the bubble skirt hemline.  But we’ve already established my problem approaching women.

I didn’t go to the afterparty.  I elected to just go home.  Perhaps I should have.  Perhaps not.

Messages sent.

“Off the record- you are extremely cute btw. I wanted to tell you that before but didn’t feel was appropriate at the time”

“Let me know when its on the record.”

Dirty words exchanged.

Etcetera Etcetera Etcetera.

I went to bed naked as usual.  A little more motivation to finish my night off before passing out on the raptor cloud that is my bed.

9am Sunday:

I checked my messages.  Probably the best written introduction I’ve received from a gent so far.  Kudos on that one sir.

All in all… I can’t complain. Ah today sounds like a good day to go beaching.  I’m good on gas now.  Maybe I can have a chance encounter.  Will it be with you?