It Doesn’t Take a Psychic to See the Future is Bright!

26 02 2013

It just takes me. . .

I wonder how many inspirational articles I’m going to have to read before I become inspired. It’s like every day I scroll through something like How to be At Peace and Find Happiness or Why Forgiving will Make You Less of an Asshole. But I’m still kind of an asshole. Obviously, this is a process. The most repetitive idea for change is visualizing what you want and working your way towards it until it manifests. Crazily enough this has worked for me, but only in relation to hot guys. Maybe because it’s easier for me to visualize a hot guy as opposed to me in a business suit. Gross. Who wants to wear business suits?


Hot guys are easy to picture, the radiant smile, the “I’d only do laundry” on those abs, the monkey bar arms (those are bulging bicep arms that makes you want to swing from them). I can see those things in my brain. The humor, the charm, the romantic allure. Then I can simply go and look for those things via online dating or the grocery store or the bar, wherever.  When I find those qualities I can go and talk to said guy.

With my career it has not been that effortless. Maybe hot guys are easier to get because the time line is so different compared to a career. Men lack the intensity. The defining label a job gives. I can see one, I can get one and then it could be over in a day or a month or a year. But with a job there seems to be more of a commitment right off the bat. Like if I get it, it has to be “the one.”

There’s this deep-seated notion that we have to be loyal to a company that hires us so whenever we want to work for another company they will see that we have loyalty. But that’s bullshit. If a guy treats us like crap we break-up with him. If a company does the same we put up with it because they “pay” us. Because it might be difficult to “find something better.” We don’t accept that type of behavior in our social circles and we shouldn’t in our jobs.

When I visualize the perfect job it’s a job that gives me agency, that challenges me, that pushes me to make a positive impact on my surroundings—whether it’s just local changes or global. A place where I can be innovative, take risks, laugh.

Does this type of environment even exist or is this going to be another DIY project?

Either way, whether I end up doing it myself or finding a company that supports those qualities, that will be where I go next because that’s what I see and that’s what I want—even if it is more difficult to manifest. In a world where there are more single men than job openings I guess I should expect that. Time to go Old-School-Oprah and make one of those Vision Boards!


Travel Thoughts: Being More +++

9 02 2013

I think it might be a bit much to expect a vacation to be a transformative experience. It might be a bit much to even think it will be relaxing. How exactly is throwing one’s self into an entirely new environment relaxing? I am not quite sure.

But while attempting just that, lying on the beach at Waikiki, I made a stunning overall analysis about the (united) states of minds.  I am not discounting myself in this equation when I say that the majority of our population is negative.

Negative in thought.

Perhaps it’s because I’m on a tour bus with a bunch of grumpy old people who have to have the temperature always at exactly 71 degrees, but I don’t think it’s that. Because we’re all here to have a good time. And yet some times the “bad,” i.e. judging everything around us, gets in the way of experiencing the good.

I came to this conclusion mostly because everything and everyone was annoying me. Not knowing where to go for happy hour, having to repeat myself over and over because old people can’t hear, sitting on a tour bus with a driver who couldn’t stop talk/singing, feeling rushed when all I wanted to do was watch hot surfer guys be hot surfer guys, etc. etc.

While in these moments I am grumpy. Grumpelstiltskin  I acknowledge that I am grumpy and yet I cannot do anything to snap out of it. The only thing that usually works is “me” time, where I go and get back in my head and analyze what’s going on. IN MY HEAD I am always better at the end of “me” time and I think I can return to humanity, but then I return and grumpfest 2.0 gets sparked almost immediately.

I am completely flawed in this manner.

I want to be one of golly-gee-wee good spirited people who “loves to laugh.” A person who can just brush off the thoughtless ignorance of others, because as my grandma pointed out, it doesn’t bother anyone else but me.


We all have different ticks that set us off.

But what’s the best method for getting back to cool after the ticking off?

See, I was next to this couple on the beach for over an hour and because they were talking and I was just lying there I totally eavesdropped on the conversation. It was then I noticed the mega-nega: don’t, not, never, no, can’t, won’t, etc. that highlighted their dialogue. Every sentence was rooted in failure, theirs or that of those around them.

I don’t want to be like them when I’m that age. I don’t want to be like them now.

What I feel I am neglecting is the power of language. I have to change the dialogue in my own head first. Perhaps when I do and I am a more positive person my unconscious mind will lead me to sit next to more goodygeegollywolly people instead of people who ran out of bologna and need to make a mad dash Walmart run in rush hour traffic.

For the rest of the trip I am going to work on being more conscious of my word choice and to just “be” wherever I am, to go with the flow, to hang loose.

I am going to laugh in the face of everything that annoys me, “oh, you thoughtless assholes amuse me with your super selfish selves.” “Oh, you can run backwards down diamond head trail with a bottle balanced on your head = talent.” “Oh, you want to wake up at 4:30 in the morning, holymoly alright! Let’s beat the sun!”

See, I’m a better person already.

10 Randoms: Travel Thoughts on Pickles and Dickles and People with Weird Haircuts.

4 02 2013

Holy wow it’s been awhile!


I am at the LA airport. All by myself. So I thought, why not, while I wait. I’ll just write a quick little blog. I thought the LA airport was supposed to be really weird, like full of really strange people, but it seems to have the same amount of weird as every other airport. It’s always the business people. The business people being all busy and businessy; whatever they have to do is way more important than whatever everyone else has to do, which is usually nothing, because they’re traveling for non-businessy things. So, I guess that makes sense. And I just have to put up with the fact that they’re having loud important businessy phone calls next to me. Perhaps if I pretend to be busy as well, by writing this blog and typing hurriedly while I suck down this coffee I will be able to, by proxy, join the weird businessy club. Probably not. I’m not wearing a suit.


Two little old ladies in front of me on the plane.

1: Is your jacket warm enough? Is it lined?

2: Oh, yes it’s lined.

1: So you can take the liner out if it gets too warm?

2: Oh, yes it’s really nice. And it washes very nicely.

1: Oh does it?

2: Yes, it’s what I always wear when I travel.

1: Oh yes, I remember it.

2: Like when I went to New Zealand in April but it was their fall because they’re backwards to us. It worked well there because you never know about the weather.

1: True. Truuueee. You never do know about the weather.


Sometimes I forget about Palm Trees. Having rarely ever experienced Palm Trees when I see them I think, “oh yes, palm trees.”


Other times I notice people looking at me trying to figure out if my glasses have lenses in them. Yes, people, my glasses have lenses, what they don’t have is glare. Because who likes glare? So, sometimes it appears, when they are clean enough, that a person could just stick his or her finger right through the frame, but one cannot in reality do that, because there are indeed lenses there with an actual prescription. I do, and I do not lie, need them to see. I am not that hip.


I have had, on occasion, men claim that the reason I cannot reach orgasm with them is due to the fact that my vibrators have desensitize me. I’d just like to state for a moment, as a sex educator, that this is not and cannot be true. The reason I am not having an orgasm is because maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I want to make them work for it. Whereas a vibrator has no opinion in the matter. And because it has no opinion I can just let it do its job. Because it is a job for the vibrator whereas with another person it is actually supposed to be pleasurable. It is supposed to be fun. But if they’re pressuring me to climax it’s going to take A LOT longer for me to do it; I don’t like to be told what to do.


Suggestion while sexing: people, just say, “I don’t care if you come or not I’m just going to do this until I get lockjaw.” And then just do it until you get lockjaw, like you promised.


Sometimes I think they only things that keep me from jumping off a tall building are really good writers and tater tots. I am not a really good writer, but perhaps one day after reading all the really good ones I can become okay. And that would be better for the world, or at least for me, than jumping off a tall building. What a mess!


I’ve realized that one thing good writers have is the ability to capture the mundane thoughts “characters” have in a way that actually fully develops them into people. People that we can relate to and not relate to. And I’ve realized that I can use my super judgmental side to my advantage—I just have to take it further than I ever have before—I have to do an external judgment of who I think they are, but then analyze their motivations for decisions, which is turn will help me figure out what they think. And when I know what they think and why they think it then I can figure out how to take them, the character people, and put a few of them together into situations and make what they call stories.


I’ve  have also realized I am one of the only people in the world who looks at other people and pictures what they were like when they were kids or what they be like when they’re old. Or both. Like, what did their parents thought of them? What moment did they make another person so proud? What were their faces like when they opened their birthday present in 2nd grade? Will they have a cane or one of those walkers with tennis balls on the legs? Will they become curmudgeons? Will they dye their hair and get botox or will they accept their fate as aging old farts and let their wrinkles spread deeper and darker across their faces?


This guy next to me has all these receipts spread all over the table. One of them is for a place called Mr. Pickle. There are so many opportunities here. I can’t even begin with the joking. I cannot even start. I just hope that one day I’ll have a Mr. Pickle of my own.