So my last girl didn't work out. Its alright. I'm comin back. I'm going for both of these two hotties, Miss Jamaica Universe and Miss Phillipines Universe. That's right, I said both. You can't limit yourself, ya know?
Alright alright, I gotta be real, you're right. I would probably have to choose between the two. I don't want them to be fighting over me all the time. I'd have to go for Yendi Phillips. The accent is fucking hot. And her "rocket launch" impression won me over. Sorry Venus baby.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Sort Things Out
I have so much on my mind right now. This isn't going to be my normal blog post, though, I don't normally blog anymore. I just really need to sort things out.
Taking 14 credits and working 18 hours a week fucking sucks. This has been a huge failed experiment. Never again. The exhaustion is killing me. Also, the girl I fell in love with doesn't seem to feel the same she used to. I know that this last part sounds a bit teenage, but I need to write this out.
Being a guy, I don't have anyone to talk to about these things. And you can't exactly post on facebook, "Guys I'm really lonely and depressed." Because your friends will pounce on your weakness. Expressions of frailty like this aren't looked on highly, at least in our culture. Everything must be good. If its not, make it at least sound funny. Don't want to put anyone in the awkward situation of feeling for you.
I don't know if any of this is coherent. This whole thing is kinda just for me, but for whatever reason, I'm never able to write for myself only. I always feel this need to put thins out there just a little. I don't know why. When I was a toddler, I used to make funny faces and dances to make the neighbor girls laugh. There's definitely some kind of showmanship I carry with me and I don't know why. I suffer from some kind of bipolar self-confidence.
The situation with my former lady friend isn't so black and white as a break-up or what not. I met her in Kenya. She immediately struck me as absolutely gorgeous. And she was smart. Her level of intelligence would have normally put me in check, as I wouldn't have felt good enough to go for her. But she seemed genuinely interested in me for whatever reason. It was probably my elementary Swahili-speaking that got her. I have no idea.
We were in this strange, beautiful land together and having the best times of our lives. We traveled together throughout Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania. We made love everywhere we went. Not only in bed, but in the way we walked, when we talked. And our every body part was made for one another it seemed. Never have I felt everything fit so perfectly. My lips and hers. Her body intertwined with mine in bed or on a bus. Her fingers laced with mine. Though she was a strong woman, I was her protector.
Because I am white and she is Chinese, we were quite the sight to the Africans. On the streets of Kampala, the capital city of Uganda, we heard, "Look! China and mzungu!" I loved every bit of it.
Again, everything was beautiful everywhere we went. The first time we made love was in a safari tent. We made love under a mosquito net our first night together. Being inside the meshed mosquito nets, it looked as if we were being swallowed by giant jellyfish. The next morning we went out and secretly held hands while looking over the Kenyan savanna, using our free hands to point out lions and elephants and zebras. Everything was so exciting yet so tranquil. God, how our skin just melted together.
Later, she met me in Uganda. Our first night there, we made love as the mighty African rains poured outside of my room. The thunder roared outside as we clutched each other's warms bodies. Just thinking about the way we would rest our faces together in between kisses. It almost makes me sick, ya know?
There was one night on a beach in Zanzibar that was completely intoxicating. I don't think its possible to ever feel that way again. We just sat on the beach in the night. The beach was ours alone. We had a bottle of red wine and a package of chocolate chocolate-chip cookies we found in a little store further down the way. We just sat there, sipping the wine straight out of the bottle, her head on my shoulder with that amazing straight, black hair. Her hair made her a queen. Miles away, there were lightning storms scattered across the ocean's horizon.
We spent our last night on Zanzibar in the House of Abdullah, a cheap and convenient hotel in Stone Town. It was here I told her I loved her. She told me she loved me.
We've tried and tried to keep something going. Unfortunately, we have these stupid, innate drives in us to accomplish certain goals, and so this keeps us apart. Yet, I don't even know if we ever could have the love we once did. Was it all just Africa? She came to visit me in Juneau. I visited her in DC. There were flashes of that passion we once had, but alot of the time we just fought. Until two days ago, I have again and again tried to reach out and get more of what we once had. She kept pulling back.
To make things short, I've decided that I just need to cut this relationship off. It hurts so much to not call her or text her. It feels like I've lost a part of my body and when I try to use it, I'm forced to remember I don't have it anymore.
I don't know how to end this. I just don't know.
Taking 14 credits and working 18 hours a week fucking sucks. This has been a huge failed experiment. Never again. The exhaustion is killing me. Also, the girl I fell in love with doesn't seem to feel the same she used to. I know that this last part sounds a bit teenage, but I need to write this out.
Being a guy, I don't have anyone to talk to about these things. And you can't exactly post on facebook, "Guys I'm really lonely and depressed." Because your friends will pounce on your weakness. Expressions of frailty like this aren't looked on highly, at least in our culture. Everything must be good. If its not, make it at least sound funny. Don't want to put anyone in the awkward situation of feeling for you.
I don't know if any of this is coherent. This whole thing is kinda just for me, but for whatever reason, I'm never able to write for myself only. I always feel this need to put thins out there just a little. I don't know why. When I was a toddler, I used to make funny faces and dances to make the neighbor girls laugh. There's definitely some kind of showmanship I carry with me and I don't know why. I suffer from some kind of bipolar self-confidence.
The situation with my former lady friend isn't so black and white as a break-up or what not. I met her in Kenya. She immediately struck me as absolutely gorgeous. And she was smart. Her level of intelligence would have normally put me in check, as I wouldn't have felt good enough to go for her. But she seemed genuinely interested in me for whatever reason. It was probably my elementary Swahili-speaking that got her. I have no idea.
We were in this strange, beautiful land together and having the best times of our lives. We traveled together throughout Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania. We made love everywhere we went. Not only in bed, but in the way we walked, when we talked. And our every body part was made for one another it seemed. Never have I felt everything fit so perfectly. My lips and hers. Her body intertwined with mine in bed or on a bus. Her fingers laced with mine. Though she was a strong woman, I was her protector.
Because I am white and she is Chinese, we were quite the sight to the Africans. On the streets of Kampala, the capital city of Uganda, we heard, "Look! China and mzungu!" I loved every bit of it.
Again, everything was beautiful everywhere we went. The first time we made love was in a safari tent. We made love under a mosquito net our first night together. Being inside the meshed mosquito nets, it looked as if we were being swallowed by giant jellyfish. The next morning we went out and secretly held hands while looking over the Kenyan savanna, using our free hands to point out lions and elephants and zebras. Everything was so exciting yet so tranquil. God, how our skin just melted together.
Later, she met me in Uganda. Our first night there, we made love as the mighty African rains poured outside of my room. The thunder roared outside as we clutched each other's warms bodies. Just thinking about the way we would rest our faces together in between kisses. It almost makes me sick, ya know?
There was one night on a beach in Zanzibar that was completely intoxicating. I don't think its possible to ever feel that way again. We just sat on the beach in the night. The beach was ours alone. We had a bottle of red wine and a package of chocolate chocolate-chip cookies we found in a little store further down the way. We just sat there, sipping the wine straight out of the bottle, her head on my shoulder with that amazing straight, black hair. Her hair made her a queen. Miles away, there were lightning storms scattered across the ocean's horizon.
We spent our last night on Zanzibar in the House of Abdullah, a cheap and convenient hotel in Stone Town. It was here I told her I loved her. She told me she loved me.
We've tried and tried to keep something going. Unfortunately, we have these stupid, innate drives in us to accomplish certain goals, and so this keeps us apart. Yet, I don't even know if we ever could have the love we once did. Was it all just Africa? She came to visit me in Juneau. I visited her in DC. There were flashes of that passion we once had, but alot of the time we just fought. Until two days ago, I have again and again tried to reach out and get more of what we once had. She kept pulling back.
To make things short, I've decided that I just need to cut this relationship off. It hurts so much to not call her or text her. It feels like I've lost a part of my body and when I try to use it, I'm forced to remember I don't have it anymore.
I don't know how to end this. I just don't know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
