Sex, Drugs and Green Tea

A twitter follower requested I do a blog entry on “Sex, drugs and green tea”. Okay. Well, you get my opinion on all three.

*snark mode activated*

Sex can be an acquired taste for some, a special treat for others, a lusted after goal for another, and an addiction for a few.

Personally, I find sex is viewed differently by everyone I know. I myself have viewed sex differently during certain periods of my life. If you were to ask me now what I think of sex, I would reply that it’s none of your damn business.

The answer to that question, dear readers, is only known between me, and my significant other.

I've never been a big fan of drugs. Maybe I've heard too many detailed stories from others about it, or I don’t have an addictive personality, but I've never wanted to do any type of drugs, and I doubt I ever will.

While this reassures my parents to no end, and those who are zero tolerance around me, I’d also have to note that if someone I know is doing drugs, I don’t immediately tear them down for it. If they’re doing drugs, I remind them of what it does to their system (if they want to hear it) and tell them not to do that sh*t around me.

But what you do on your own time and money is your own problem. I am not enabling you, or dissuading you any more than I feel I need to. My viewpoint is, you are your own person, and if you give a shit about yourself and your body, you’ll find a way to take care of it.

Green tea is an interesting beverage. I tried it for the first time on a very rainy day downtown in Parks Noodle and Sushi. It was very relaxing just to stare out the window at people going by, and to let my mind wander.

It’s a bitter tea, apparently caffeinated, and tastes a little flowery if you add lemon juice to it. I find it’s a popular beverage of those who wish to be slightly snooty in Asian restaurants (you know the ones, who request chopsticks and talk loudly about how they took classes on how to speak Mandarin or Korean or Japanese, and this is how you say this dish properly) and naturalists alike.

For me, it will always be one of those beverages that I would sip, and stare out windows while relaxing.

Now for what I really think this blog post is missing. Rock n’ roll.

I love music. I always have, and I always will. If my ipod was working properly right now, at any time you could enter my apartment and hear music playing in the background. But, until I get an ipod dock for every room (which will happen eventually) and an ipod whose battery doesn't die so quickly (which is going to take some time) you can always tune into my singing.

I sing along to everything, whether I think I sound good or not. If it’s a good night at work, I’ll sing along to the radio. If it’s a busy and chore filled day at home, I’ll pretty much yodel at the top of my lungs. If I’m having a bad day, I’ll have a bath and blast sad, mopey music until I’m done singing along and feeling sorry for myself.

 If I’m angry or upset and I want a confidence boost, I’ll listen to rap or hip hop. If I’m in an energetic mood, I’ll play fast, pop or rock and rock out. Or, if I’m feeling mellow, I’ll put some blues or jazz on and veg out.

I just never feel like me without music. A day without music is a day without life.

Hey, it almost makes sense that I volunteer for a radio station, doesn't it?

THIS JUST IN; PEOPLE CARE WHAT I HAVE TO SAY!

THIS JUST IN; PEOPLE CARE WHAT I HAVE TO SAY!

And yet, people seem to love hearing the sounds of their own voice, while I’m trying to speak… (Seriously, shut the hell up and let me get a word in edgewise.)

Well, I must remember not to let this go to my head. Wouldn't want to get an ego or anything.

Okay, to be honest, now that people are actually going to be reading this blog, especially people I know, and enjoy talking to, makes me feel rather sketched out. If I write something you don’t like, am I going to have to put up with you bitching at me about it later? Because that’s just not happening.

This is actually the reason I’m not sure I could be a novelist anymore, although it’s been my dream since I was 7 years old, and had just started reading. (If anyone cares to know, the first thing I read on my own, was “Crocodile Pie”. You will be tested on this later.)

I’d be writing away, and then I’d suddenly think; “OH NO WHAT IF SOMEONE THINKS I’M DRAWING ON PERSONAL EXPERIENCE????!!!” So then I become paranoid and self-conscious about any situation I introduce into the book. Because you know someone out there is now thinking; “Oh, so she gets into stupid arguments with people all the time over romantic situations.” Or “Oh, I bet she’s had tons of experience with cars like the 1967 Shelby GT 500.” (I only know that car because of the movie “Gone in 60 Seconds.” Also, I’m in my twenties and STILL lack a driver’s license.)

Or, (oh please no) if I decide that the story now calls for a rather lusty sex scene. (I mean, who doesn't enjoy sex scenes?) Does that mean that they’re going to look at my current significant other and go “Heh, I know what YOU do underneath the sheets with her, you dirty, dirty thing, you.” (Please note. What I do or don’t do underneath any sheets with anyone is none of anyone’s damn business. Pervs.)

It’s not just affecting me then, is it? Now other people are getting nonsense from others.

Here’s another problem I have with writing. If I am writing about personal experience, what if the readers scoff and mock my writing, saying I have no idea what I’m talking about? We've all had eventful lives, and some of the more serious topics I would enjoy writing about now, are sensitive topics.

For example, in high school I was fighting a losing battle with anorexia. Not many people know this, but this is the reason I get so offended when people comment on any weight gain or loss around me. I pretty much fly off the handle when people accuse me of gaining too much weight. I was 5 feet and 8 inches in high school, and I only weighed 130. I was only eating a snack a day. It took me years before I could finally gain any weight to put myself back into a healthy weight category, and for the rest of my life, I’m going to struggle with eating. (When I eat now, I still have to distract myself by reading or watching tv, so I don’t feel sick at eating normal portions.)

That is the type of experience I would hate to have scoffed at.

So, what’s the middle ground? How do I get the right sort of people to read my writing? How do I avoid the kind of criticism that is ultimately meant to harm rather than help?

And how DO I find that “Crocodile Pie” poem again? I suddenly seek my motivation to continue writing, and obviously, my muse is a crocodile.

Hope that this was enough snark for you.

Enjoy. (Or Not.)

I'm re-visiting blogging.

I'm also currently laughing myself silly, because I'm being the epitome of pretentious.

I am blogging, at a cafe, using the city's wifi, drinking a decaf soy chocolate chai tea latte.

Ugh, I hate myself a little now.

So, I'm currently where I am because I am too cheap to get internet for my apartment, I wanted to pick up hot chocolate mix because I ran out yesterday, and I was just so damn tired of being mopey at home.

I am mopey, because I am feeling overworked, underpaid, and under-appreciated throughout the entire state of my life right now. My job helps me to support myself, my volunteer work stimulates my intellectual side, but for all intents and purposes, I am in a rut.

I want out.

There was this comic a friend showed me, of someone who had visual "monsters" following her around, reminding her of her problems. They were red and green. The green monster represented the lack of monetary stability, and the red monster represented the lack of meaning in her life.

I'm very keenly wondering; "Oh God, what am I doing with my life?"

Well, right now, I work, I hang out with friends, I keep my apartment in order, I do volunteer work. But I don't feel like I'm fully utilizing any of my abilities, and I'm worried that I'm relying too much on others to make me happy. The sad thing is, I know I am, and it makes me even unhappier.

I want to do something more. I'm beginning to wonder if that something more shouldn't just be me getting back into writing.

So, with this mopey, pretentious intro, I give you my thoughts, to the best of my ability, delivered in my signature quirky, sarcastic, snarky way.

Enjoy. (Or not.)