December 16, 2012

A Vent From Hell

I wish I was as simple as I deem to be.

It's like my mind and heart are on a raging rampage. They never correlate. It's the classic angel and devil analogy.

I have this sick obsession for independence and freedom tugged with a long to feel genuinely close to something or someone, all at the same time. It makes no sense but then it makes all the sense in the world.

You see what I mean?

I always feel the need to fix what's not broken. Anticipating the worst, before the worst actually happens -- which then only intensifies what the worst was initially going to be.

Nothing ever just is, with me. There's always an ongoing mental battle, inflicting me and the people I care about most.

But see, that pain, that heartfelt thump, that confusion, that indecisiveness... it dazzles me to the point of no return.

For a long time, I felt as if everything was falling into place. Everything was exactly where it should be. But, I didn't feel alive. Nothing phased me. All I felt was this underlying comfort and empty satisfaction that was just utterly dull.

I don't want to know the answer to everything. I want to feel love and be hurt, and heal, and then do it all over again. That's my ideal satisfaction.

Here's the catch though: The moment I start to feel my emotions belittling my control (which is what usually tends to happen in "my ideal satisfaction"), I cave in before I fully digest whatever it is I was starting to really feel.

It terrifies me to feel anything again. Not because I'm afraid to get hurt, I'm open to that. But because I've grown a disgust for stability and commitment to just one feeling. I want to feel everything and anything; but in rotation and in it's most raw, wildest form.

I'm a funhouse of a puzzle even to myself. And no, not those fun, easily constructed ones; the ones that have a fucking million microscopic pieces where they all look like they would fit together, only to realize an hour later that they don't. And then when you do finally figure out the pieces, it's a picture of a Parrot Fish.

A freaking Parrot Fish.

November 27, 2012

Confessions of A Hopeless Romantic: Vol. 1

1) I know you probably think I'm a passive aggressive bitch from planet Schizophrenia, but I'm honestly not trying to mess with your head. I want to tell you so bad how much you actually mean to me, but I won't. Because I don't want you to mean anything to me. You have that all-I-think-about-all-day-want-to-talk-to-all-the-time potential that makes me kind of shit bricks because that is the second to last thing that I want (The very last would be a Doomsday).

It's not because you're not worthy enough; we're just not worthy enough. At least for right now. In the meantime though, would you mind just telling me you love me and how you can't stop thinking about me, and call me I'm pretty, etc.

I long and crave for that. But, from you.

2) I'd by lying if I said that us getting back together doesn't cross my mind. Every three days or so. Especially through this vital time of the year where just two & a half years ago, we stood high and very much in love. -- Or rather in the idea of it.

Actually, fuck that. It was love because that's what we created it to be and it was fucking beautiful. It's harder now when I see you; everything that just a couple of months ago was second nature to us, becomes completely dismembered and swallowed.

You have unknowingly set the template for everyone I meet, for the rest of my life. Your pictures aren't even facing down yet in what used to be our home. You're still in my heart, and always will be. I'd probably marry the shit out of you, one day. But, you know that. And if you didn't, well now you do.

3) I like how I can throw any sentence at you and not worry about whether it was too much. I like that you make me feel liberated and completely out of my element. I like how I can basically tell you anything, and you don't judge. But, I'm still debating on whether or not I like you. And that may be because... well, you're a freaking douche. A really cute one.

You speak in cryptic language and religiously practice all kinds of puns that I can appreciate till it just becomes utterly exhausting and well, annoying. I'm just way past that phase. I'm down for games, but physical ones. Not mind ones.

4) It is approximately 2:27am and I'm thinking of 10 things at the same time; 3 in which have to do with you. Even while I'm writing this out.

Get out of my head. K'thnxbai.

5) I don't want to come off like I am my own emotional terrorist whose so pathetically caught up and fond of this hopeless romantic crap.

Because I'm not...

Yeah, this is where you call bullshit.

Signed, -S

November 18, 2012

We Ain't Nothing But Mammals

Sex. That word alone radiates passion, intimacy, romanticism, an overpowering sensation,
plain ol' awkwardness.  

It has occurred to me that although sex is one of the most natural acts of the human species (or any species really)and yet the aftermath doesn't seem very natural. At all. 

If you're in a serious relationship, we get it; you bang for 10min and go straight to sleep right afterwards.You don't fall in this category.

I'm advocating for the lonely souled individuals trying to find that happy median with someone who their either casually dating, and/or seeing (thrusting) a friend whom you share this dance with. 

Here are some necessary points I'd like to make:

1. The "No call/text"

Since we have already established that sex is gawky all in itself, you not communicating afterwards even if just as friends (who happened to bang) makes shit unbearably awkward.

It makes it feel like one of the two was a bad bang which then in leads to a trifecta of self-doubt, which inevitably just becomes too much of a hassle to deal with so you call it dun-zo.

Set yourself a reminder if you have to, just shoot your bang-pal a text saying something completely out of the ordinary. An ice-breaker, sort of speak.

Don't say shit like "So, that was amazing. Let's do it again soon" 'cause - 1. You'll sound like a total amateur and, 2. You're giving the other person way too much stamina and the next time will be amazingly dreadful.

Oh, and once you do communicate don't psycho-analyze every gesture as follows: "Did she say hey instead of hi, 'cause you know that means she's a lesbian right?" or "I text him 3 hours ago, and still no response. I knew I should have gone down on him."

You don't have to communicate right after sex, but sometime shortly after will do. Like 2 days, max. And then things shall progress as they should, or shouldn't.

We like feeling like we're on the edge but not too fond about being left there.   

2. The "Cuddle? What am I, a Teddy Bear?"

Guys, us females are undeniably fucked in the heads. We know this. We need constant attention and validation. Please don't make it harder on us or yourselves. You don't need to unwind your so-called love for us and combine it with butterflies and compromises.

Just spoon or lay there (like a corpse, if you need to) with us for a good 6 min after sex, and you'll most likely be in the clear for the next bang. Even if cuddling after sex seems mediocre and not your style, dodge in a stroke on the cheek or even a high-five. Okay, maybe not a high-five, but something to make us feel a little less used and little more wanted. We were whore enough for you, now be gentlemen enough for us.

If it's worth another bang, of course. If not, well.. run. Fast.

3. The "Emotional Drag"

Alright, speaking for both genitals here. Sex doesn't necessarily mean you both (or three) are going to fall in love, get married, have bastard children, get Alzheimer's and die in each others arms in a retirement facility.

Sex is sometimes just that, sex.

I mean, don't get me wrong, if you're anything like me, there at least has to be an amount of feeling and intellectual luring for me to even lay my lips on you let alone, bang. But it doesn't mean that if we do end up banging, you have any jurisdiction or say over me as I don't over you.

Over time, when you sit down with your bang-pal and have a serious conversation over the matter about possibly taking things to the next level, only then do you start to have some kind of lee-way in each others lives.

Up until that moment though, if he/she isn't your significant other, they don't owe you shit. Not an immediate text response, an explanation over your whereabouts, soup when you're sick --
n o t h i n g. Now, that doesn't mean treat each other like ball-sack. Especially if you both are friends first and foremost, before being bang-mates.

I personally think it's bullshit to believe that friendship and romance are different. They're really not, if you think about it. They're both variations of the same desire to be close. Maybe not like, let's make-out close. But, close.. enough.

All the same, you still have to withhold an emotional stability and consciousness that the act of sex isn't always the gateway to the amends of love. 

"Drink up, young man. It'll make the whole seduction part less repugnant"
- that's all I really meant to say.

Stay awkward.

(As also Published on Elite Daily) 

November 6, 2012

Is 'Love' Really to Blame?

Premeditated Warning: I'm about to get in touch with my inner hopeless romantic ego (more like outer), and discuss about the one thing that the 21st Century hates to admit and feel:
More and more, I've noticed society has become rather nonchalant and dismissive of love and all that it pertains. Mostly because, well, they've had some pretty crappy experiences on the matter making them reconsider if a concept as this is even seen as valuable anymore.  
It's evident why we may feel this animosity towards love, but the question lies in: Is it rational? 
The kind of love we're use to is bonded with unrealistic and foolish expectations about achieving ultimate happiness.
In other words, it's not love.
So the kind of love that we love to hate, is actually the falsely presumed one we mashed up in our heads with our own pre-mature experiences.
We as individuals, are on this constant, tragic search for someone who fits a supposed fixed criteria that may or may not be obtainable, and we dismantle when it falls short, more often than not. Though, we fail to recognize that love doesn't take requests.
We get what we give. But through certain junctures of our lives, we also get what we need; to learn and to grow.  
For a moment, consider the power of destiny. A lot of you may be reading this right now and thinking, "Here we go. Yet another cryptic belief that is so utterly ridiculous." -- And you're right. Destiny is pretty ridiculous and often times, incomprehensible. But, I challenge you to be more perceptive of your surroundings and recognize why you decided to go that specific bar, at that specific time, while running into a long-lost pal. Or, why you suddenly craved a pastry from your favorite coffee shop and ran into that bearded guy who openly admired your choice of carrot cake.  
These events unfold, for better or for worse. No one can predict the intentions of others, and often times, we become blinded by the hate that we employ from the harmful ones. Yet, that's the very magic of love; it takes no precautions. You either fall and are gracefully caught. Or, you face plant to the ground -- Or, both. 
Getting our hearts broken sucks, and it's difficult to not get caught up in a blame-game or on an anti-love rampage. It's way easier to generalize and antagonize a beautiful notion such as love, than to accept our faults and build the courage to give it another go.

Instead, we contemplate all seven deadly sins against our exes, in hopes that it'll aid the hurt. We pinpoint every flaw of his or hers and dissect what went wrong. The ambiguous statuses and tweets begin to take a toll. You feel an overwhelming rage and want to hate every single thing about them, but you can't. Those once adored parts of that person will always seem to stand out against the bad ones. Mostly because, a lot of those parts also became a part of you.
So, next time you feel that loathing venom grip your heart, think about the strength you obtained from that break up. Think about the lesson(s) you grasped from that asshole who decided to toy with you and your feelings. And most importantly, think about how much you learned about yourself, despite the pain he/she may have caused you. 

Once you've reflected, all you'll feel for the schmuck is gratitude.

Like anything else that resonates within us, love has its quirks but it also has its perks. But an even bigger reality of love is that we gain so much more than we lose.

We gain hope, and that hope fuels a better you.

You can gag now.
(Published & Edited on Elite Daily

October 28, 2012

If I Wasn't Such a Hypocrite, I'd Take My Own Advice

Often times, you have that one friend that approaches you in need of direction or advice when dealing with lifes' lemons; relationships, self-impediment, and just day-to-day difficult situations.

You feel humbled and so you embrace these moments of need in high regard -- Meanwhile you embody Oprah Winfrey.

You feel entitled and notable because your friend was drawn to you in times of struggle for a life lesson or two. So naturally, you feel you must be doing something right... right?

Well, no.

We absolutely love giving others advice that we fail to implement on our own lives. Hypocrisy at it's finest, some might argue. The satisfaction is in full until it is us in need of guidance and so we go to another friend that we feel has their shit together, and the trifecta continues.

Here's what they would say (and not apply):

1. Stop saying you could care less, when in reality you couldn't care more.

There is a certain proud inclination amongst the young folk of this generation to follow a sort of societal (and lyrical) protocol insisting that we care and feel less. Now that I am a little older and perhaps wiser, I can honestly say that most of the time I have said "I don't give a shit" or anything along those lines, chances are I was either just embodying some catchy rap song or my pride dug in too deep to admit that I genuinely did care a great deal. 

Now a' days it seems as though thoroughly caring about someone or something is considered weakness or a form of devaluing yourself, when in fact, we all see right through your facade and the only thing you're actually "devaluing" is your authenticity.

Be natural. Whether it feels wrong or right, follow your own intuition. There is no shame in concerning yourself with others, no matter the degree. Allow yourself to feel anything and everything. I mean, really, what do you have to lose? Besides your dignity... only kidding! No, but really, worst case scenario of texting that asshole is that he/she doesn't text you back. In which case, you validate to yourself for the 5th or 6th time (you've probably lost count by now), that he/she is indeed an asshole, and move the fuck on. 

I'm serious.

2.  Don't regret -

Because everything you did, at one point or another, was exactly what you wanted. Even if it didn't turn out to be the most beneficial decision, take it as life's many experiences that will (hopefully) instill some wisdom to know and do better. 

Just try not to dramatize or sit in your pajamas all weekend with an oversized bag of Garden Salsa Sun Chips and a carton of Pistachio ice-cream, analyzing the crap out of it til' you decide it's time to finally sleep.

This is what life is about. Make mistakes, be an idiot, date an asshole, but realize that these mistakes sometimes come with moderately light to heavy baggage - And baggage usually means, being pissed on. Maybe sometimes literally (Refer toGirl Peeing on Unconscious Man).

3. Stop dwelling.

Sometimes we find ourselves exhausting the "coulda, woulda, shoulda" - A habit that can leave us stagnant in just always feeling like we could have done something differently to change whatever it is we wanted the outcome to be, aka control freak

Here are my two cents though: if you coulda, woulda, shoulda and you didn't, then there's your answer; as simple as it gets. 

There was obviously something impeding you, making you re-consider to coulda, woulda, shoulda approach whatever it was that was conflicting you to freely make a decision in the first place. If you have to think about it too much, chances are it might not something you want to be exploiting in anyway. 

4. Be bold & be yourself.

As corny and cliche as this may sound, it is still no surprise at how often we avoid it. 

Conventionally, it seems as though it is a "safer" approach to dim yourself down when meeting people for the first time. Mostly because you don't want them to think you're a nut right off the bat and then completely discard of you without realizing you're at least 75% sane. So guilty.

But you know what I've realized? Not only do you repress who you are initially, but you never end up building the courage to fully commit to being who it is you truly are because of the predisposed notion that you'll be exiled immediately. 

If you're messed up in the head or consistently having weird and random thoughts, let that shit out. Talk about it, sing about it, or write about it.. *chuckles*. You'd be pleasantly surprised at how many people you'll find that are as twisted in the head as you. Or, if you're a huge Star Wars fan or are really into Dragon Ball Z or Pokemon - I mean, do you realize how engagingly sexy that is? It also means you're a freaking human with actual interests and cue in, con-ver-sa-tion

This is an epidemic!
Now excuse me, while I completely disregard everything I just wrote. 

-signed, S

October 25, 2012

5 Things I've Done That I'm Not Proud Of

I'm jotting it down to 5 things because we can probably sit here for an eternity before I get through. Oh, and jotting it down to just 5 also means I have to think of the worst and work my way down, which is just as long. So if you haven't already guessed from all my blabbering, this is gonna take awhile.

In no particular order: 

1) Upon a rather vulnerable time in my life (every two days or so), I called a once-adored dude pretending to be shitfaced. If I hadn't pretended, then I'd have nothing to blame his negligence on but my sanity -- Which is ten times more pathetic. I'd rather just be six times more pathetic -- As my subconscious demands.

2) I (unsuccessfully) pee'd in a water bottle, once. Never will I attempt to do so again.

3) I've consciously lied and manipulated to get my way during arguments with loved ones.

4.) I once (overly) faked an orgasm and made up that I began feel a lot of pain only so he would stop the awful thrusting.

5) I became a groupie.

I started to feel hardcore rejection from this one guy, which had never happened to me prior to this turn-down. It was tough to manage and inevitably, all insecurites began to challenge my sanity.

So, forwarding through all the douche-y gestures of him making out with another girl at a nightclub (in front of my face), consecutively ditching me, etc., I started to grow a connection with his... best friend.

At first, it was an unconscious way of me feeling better about myself. His friend initiated through giving me the attention I oh-so longed for, even if it wasn't exactly whom I craved it from. Then, clarity struck, followed by anger pitching in at it's peak. The rejection started to take a toll on me to where I wound up in a cliche of revenge. It soon developed as a scheme to make Best Friend A feel as solemnly rejected as I felt. But see, vengeance never really ever falls in the favor of a hopeless romantic -- I soon after, began to grow feelings for Best Friend B.

(Lol, sorry.. referencing them as if I'm solving a math problem is making me giggle and feel like a total dickface at the same time).

Continuing --

Well, there is no resuming. It all ended as tragic and dramatic as it intended. I ultimately received all the ridicule and shame, as I am the a female and "I should know better".

If my wannabe pity-story wasn't up-front enough, here's what I took from it: No matter how rejected I felt from Best Friend A and no matter how hard I tried to victimize myself into thinking he was the one at fault, in no shape or form was it right for me to follow through into any kind of relationship with his best friend. Especially when I was still ga-ga over Best Friend A.

There are too many fish in the sea to get caught up in a dowry between two close fishies. That's like Nemo dating Dory after Dory and Nemo's dad had a thing.

Just don't do it.

Did I really just write this shit?

Signed, -S

October 23, 2012

Let's Talk, Make-Out & Stuff

Fuck buddies and Friends With Benefits, two of which are fundamentally the same, yet still very much different. Are you looking for a casual sex with someone whom you text at 2am all hot and bothered where you pretty much greet with no clothes on and very little articulation of words? Or are you looking for a friend where you enjoy each others company and/or private parts, for as long as you both desire to?

Most people including myself, still haven't managed to tell the total difference between the two. Or better said, haven't met the right person to be able to tell a difference between the two. Let me first clarify by saying, be honest. First and foremost with yourself and then to who ever it is you'd like to take to funky town. When you say "I don't want anything serious" do you really mean "I don't want anything serious right now" or are you really demeaning all emotion, in which case, I should take notes. 

I recently got out of a rather serious long-term, relationship. So it's interesting how I'm now finding myself wanting the exact opposite of that at this very milestone in my life. People change, and feeling re-arrange, I'm aware and evidently prepared for that. But for the moments notice, I'm ultimately looking for most of everything that a relationship entails which is consistency (friendship, conversation, sex, casual outings, sex, and sex). Everything but the official enclosure/title while  withholding that we're both ultimately single.

Problem is, I have this gross habit of being a hopeless romantic and if I like you, well... you'll be forced to grow a fond of mixtapes and yeah, just run. Scratch that, sprint. But get ready for it, THAT RARELY HAPPENS. In all seriousness, it takes much, much more than just looks and charm for me to start counting flower pedals. I need intriguing conversations with compliments that end in insults. But really -- I need to be mentally challenged/banged before the physical challenge/banging commences.

I mean, is there any rational sense in having this loathsome condition of being a hopeless romantic if I'm basically forced to keep it all to myself? Answer is, no. It freaking sucks. If I was more romantic *cough* with myself or at all really, maybe it wouldn't be such a downfall.

So, what have I been doing you ask (or not asking but I'll tell you anyway)? I've been casually dating. That sounds much more appealing than what it is. By casually dating, I mean I've gone out with two guys since my break-up. One in which, completely and utterly bored me with all these fancy outings where the least valuable belonging was, well me. And the other, surprisingly fascinated me with his mind and ability to keep up with my punch-lines. Sounds just like my cup 'o tea, right? So, I continued to see him and after laying everything out on the table on and after all our orgasmic conversations, it eventually led to an actual orgasm. Sounds too good to be true, I know.

-- That's because it was. Conversation soon after the sex went from zero to none and because of that, my interest (vagina) suddenly didn't feel quite as intrigued. Somewhere along the lines of downing bottles of wine, watching sunrises on the beach and rummaging through bed-sheets, something changed. Maybe it was the act of having sex (which would obviously be insulting to one of us, or both) , or maybe we just weren't as compatible for this rodeo as I thought we were. I don't know.

My question is:

Is it possible to get the best of both worlds where both individuals work in the favor of one another? Or are we all just naturally doomed to being selfishly alone in that department?

I guess I won't know till my next orgasm. Don't hold your breath.

Signed,  -S

Intro -

Sofia. Not Sofi (as she'll guess you named your pet).

Not "Sof" (the 'a' that naturally follows would feel tempted to sway in there), and definitely not "Sofa" (see that).

She was born in Velletri, Italy -- and yet, proclaims she is more Latina with Spanish being her first spoken language. Not to mention haven gone though a lifetime of arepas her Venezuelan mother prepares for her on occasion.

She used to live in Miami, and now resides by the cyan waters of Boca Raton, Fl.

She has a pretty maddening tendency to "vomit" all her thoughts all over the page; almost every thought of hers needs a sub-thought.

However, not many people can translate feelings to words thoroughly and with virtue. It's a lost language that can't be taught.

Even if it does require keeping a hefty brown bag and Advil in arm's reach.