Tag Archives: musings

Editorial, Writing

Why do you have the right to be happy?

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Happiness

Having worked many different style jobs, and gathered at least a fair share of life experiences, I have come to one simple understanding.  Anyone who tells you that you deserve to be happy, or have a right to happiness, is a liar.

Expectations of happiness and entitlement.

That does not mean abandon all hope.  Everyone should have a general expectation of cordiality in a civilized society; from my experience however, once the average person feels that they have been, in some way infringed upon, either by chance, happenstance, or even their own doing; their sensitive ego’s become so cornered in their entitlement of happiness, or satisfaction that they thrash out, immediately causing a domino of negative karmatic influence for every other person they encounter.

happy

Ultimately, you are responsible for your own happiness.  But those small doses of happiness: that piece of cake, cigarette, or fuck.  Why do you think you deserve it?  Under what pretention do you feel you warrant another treat?  Our lives are addiction, and addiction will never get what it wants.

So what causes the problems; the mean, nasty people that spread like a dark cancer over our lives and impede upon our happiness?  They’re people like you, and me, they just believe it more.  They believe everything they want is more important, and they are willing to sacrifice you for it.  So, congratulations, they’ve sacrificed you for what they feel they needed.  Sadly, in general; your sacrifice was in vain, because it didn’t get them what they actually wanted.  Someone else to think they are as important as they do.

So how do we fix it?  It’s actually very simple.  Accept, unconditionally that maybe, in the end, you don’t deserve to be happy.  It’s Ok, and it’s perfectly fine to not be Ok.

Everyone else has his or her own problems to go through throughout the course of the day and just because you have to live with yourself through all of it, there’s no reason that the person you encounter for a moment of it should have to put up with it.  Short of that, don’t treat anyone like anything; stop exercising your almighty introverted id upon every human you encounter.  Just because you have to hear your own addictions for comfort, nagging at the back of your mind like a child denied candy, doesn’t mean everyone else needs to experience it as well. What have you done today that makes you so deserving?  We are not entitled to anything, and your success need not be at the sacrifice of those around you.

Editorial, Writing

“Men of Match.com”, a Brief Response

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In response to ‘the men of match.com’

I stumbled upon an article on wordpress entitled “Meet the men of Match.com”.  Well written, obviously thought out and produced by a talented writer, explaining her difficulties and observations having perused a singles website while nearing her 30th birthday.  While I can not, nor would I, defend men as a gender; specifically those on a singles website, I can offer some brief observations about the opposition.

I am currently an account holder at OKCupid and Plenty of Fish.  I’m not proud of it, and I realize that POFthey may not be up to the prestige of Match.com (I can only assume, as they don’t have a commercial I’ve yet to see); but they are prolific in my area, which tends to be limited on the mainstream sites.  Delaware simply does not have many members on eHarmony, Match, et al.

I feel I should also point out; I am no longer seriously looking, so this is not driven by bitter anguish, the singles apps on my phone have turned into a source of humor, rather than actually trying to find a connection  It’s not that I can’t find anyone, quite the opposite, I have found many beautiful people in my time that I still talk to, both in the “real” world, and a few from dating sites;  Moreover, I have simply given up looking because put into perspective: I don’t need someone else to complete me, and I’m perfectly happy and comfortable alone.  There’s more to that, but I digress.  My experiences with most dating sites have ultimately not helped dissuade that decision.

For example, when loading up the Plenty of Fish homepage to research this response, I am confronted with 16 of “My Matches”.  Five of them are pictures of either kittens, cats or dogs.  At this point I should note that I am on a dating site that is ostensibly, for adults.

The proliferation of puppy dogs, kittens and the starting characteristics of “crazy cat ladies” plentiful enough to populate the eastern seaboard is enough to scare most of the fabled “good guys” to the hills.  In looking for a mate, cat litter and lint rollers before work are not a good sell point, and nothing sells a quiet night at home quite like cleaning up furballs hacked into the kitchen hallway halfway through dinner.

“But my cat doesn’t get furballs”

Yes it does.  They all do.  Except maybe those hairless ones, I’ve never actually met one, but it probably finds fur too.

“I’m an independent woman, I don’t need no man” (but I’m on a singles site)

That’s like riding a bicycle into a car lot, browsing, then yelling at the salesperson.

Quickly: just because you may be single does NOT make you an independent woman.  It means you’re single; you’re independent because you have to be or you’d die; if it were a choice you made on your own you wouldn’t be on a dating site desperately seeking someone.  Sorry.

Let us mention weight for a moment.  I realize that not everyone has time, conditioning or resolve for a five-day exercise regiment.  I also realize that everyone has an ideal “type”, and some may pursue those with a bit more “fluff” than others.  I also have a pretty strong opinion that if I love someone, I’d like them to be survive for a while, and the type of self mutilation-by-BMI that is so common in the current female population (also, possibly an East Coast thing?) is not conducive to long lives.  Beyond that, there is a stunning, I repeat: STUNNING amount of self-confidence displayed in the dozen or more self portraits these wildebeests so happily post, flaunting their wares, while looking for their “other half”, but obviously showing they already possess their 200% in body mass alone.

From my experience, and as usual, your mileage may vary; there are 3 common types of women I have seen on dating sites:

These are my children, they come first

They already have kids, and the kids come first.  Yeah, they should.  It goes with the territory, and you don’t get points for doing what you’re supposed to be doing (taking care of your children.)  That’s fine, I would fully expect, should there be a house fire- you’ll wake them up first (unless you need something heavy lifted, or a spider killed first: in which case I’ll probably be the first on your list).  Telling an anonymous with whom you may be trying to start a relationship about it on a dating website before they’ve even messaged you is simply aggressive.  It’s just rude.  I don’t want anything to do with your kids, especially before I’m sure I can stand you, let alone your children.  I’d imagine, in general; telling me they come first means you don’t get a lot of messages anyway, save the few Neanderthals that made the connection that children means you’ve put out at LEAST that many times…

Also, unless their father is dead or incarcerated; having children means that your possible suitor needs to understand there may come a time when an uncomfortable meeting may occur.  It’s not out of the realm of possibility to say that should “Contestant #1” be around, or introduced to your children, there may be some type of drama in the future, perhaps its in your best interest to be a bit more understanding, and approach new people in a romantic environment with a bit more dignity.

While we’re on the subject, greater than 50% of your pictures should not be of your children.  This is a dating site, if the man is that interested in what your children look like- that’s creepy.  A simple “I have children” will suffice. Thank you.

Pictures of just the pets

cat

Really? No, honestly, WHY does anyone think that’s a solid decision?  Aren’t you here to tell about yourself, show what you’re looking for, your interests etc?  No one cares what your dog looks like, unless you need someone to fuck the dog…

I writs lyke diz and uz kant stop me cuz

These people are in their 30’s.  They vote.  They’re raising the next generation of single people.

EyeFinally, in regards to profile pictures, please: have a friend help you select them.  If it’s a mirror shot of your butt, your profile should have zero comments about how you’re not looking for sex.  That ad should be on craigslist, not a dating site.  It should not be from 6 miles out, and it certainly shouldn’t be a closeup of your eye.  I would assume the picture you’ve posted, especially the profile shot, is the best of the bunch; it should clearly show what you look like, or what someone could expect on a first date.  Some look like they were taken at the base of Mount Doom, have horrible lighting, or ran through Instagram filters a dozen or more times.  That doesn’t help anyone get a clear impression of what you may look like.  What YOU may look like, if the picture is of seven people, for the love of God the caption should point out which one is you…

In closing, while I understand online dating is frustrating, and trust me, I’m sure men are frauds online and in person, it’s a two-way street.  Ultimately, the decision to be single is not a forbidden one, and the advancement of ones biological clock is not a reason to put yourself in a position to choose from a flock of suitors that have had the time to present themselves in the best light their imaginations could create while sitting in front of a keyboard.  They suggested zip-lining because it sounds fun, dammit, most of them have probably never done it!  Find the ones that can speak clearly, present themselves as well as possible, and give them a chance.

Writing

When I Learned How To Drink

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When I learned how to drink the first lessons I learned were what I could drink.  To avoid the sugars, to appreciate the burn, the fun was in the drunk, in the inhibition.  I learned how to dance, and how to sing.   Those people that judged you didn’t matter, and you were to enjoy life, as best as you could; and still, they didn’t matter.  I brought something new, they had never seen before; and the things I said were new, and they had never seen them before; when I drank.

The second thing I learned when I learned how to drink is what I could do.  The social iniquities were lost, and who I could be.  I found the humor and attention; the fame and infamy, so I stopped pretending to be who I wasn’t.  I spoke, I preached.  I said what was on my mind, and the drunks laughed, or scowled, or agreed or disagreed.  I poured what was in my mind out for consumption, bitter or sweet.

The third thing I learned, when I learned how to drink, was to allow adventure.  I learned to go, and live, and fuck the rest.  It was mine, and it was my experience for my story, all the stupid chances and immature risks .  My stories were eternal, and they were mine, and no one else could have them.

The fourth thing I learned when I learned how to drink was what I couldn’t do. I couldn’t draw, or paint, I couldn’t design or create, or sing, or dance; because the ability of my hands would not develop along with the creativity of my mind, so I put down the pen when I drank.  I didn’t draw, or write, or sing or dance or learn, because they’d see in, and that wasn’t why I drank. I didn’t want them to see in, I wanted to see out.

When I learned how to drink, the fifth thing I learned was to be quiet.  Things people told me, things I saw for sale, and that last drink.  They were unnecessary, and if I wanted to buy them or needed them so bad or should have expressed them, I would have done so while sober.  So I stopped opening my mouth, my wallet, my mind, and my expression; when I drank.

When I learned how to drink, the sixth thing that I learned was how to control myself.  To not let go, to not act like a child and not let those around you see the weakness in your drunken mind, the expression or the vulnerability.  To stop being someone I wasn’t and hold perfect control. So I stopped letting myself play up to who I was when I drank.

Lastly, when I learn how to drink, I will learn how to speak.  How to be as eloquent as I was before I took the first sip.  When the drinking has happened, and I’m keeping complete control, and not spending too much, and not drawing or writing to express myself, or trying to be the life of the party, then I’ll learn how to speak, and how to be me, even when I’m not in control anymore, to say the things I was thinking before.  How it was better to not have to apologize, and stay to yourself, when I learned how to drink.  Then, I will stay to myself, and not dance, and not sing, and not draw; because when I drink I wont be sure of me; so I’ll be the best me I can be, and if I don’t, but no one else is around, then I wont have to apologize anymore.

So, when I learn how to drink, I will be me; even when the “me” isn’t here anymore, when I drink.