Sweet Minty Jesus, it's Christmas

It's that special time of year again...the snow is falling (wait, no it's not, it just rained)...the family is near (wait, no they aren't, it's just me and my mom this year...and she's driving me nuts)...the presents are under the tree (wait, no they aren't, there is no spoon tree and I received no presents)...and I'm cuddling with my sweetheart by the fire (wait, does a commitment-phobe who really doesn't like me that much count? No? And swing and a miss).

*Sigh* 

It's Christmas again...and I feel like crying again. Not because I'm alone (that commitment-phobe doesn't count and I'm not going to lie to myself and say he does, he's just a band-aid on a stab wound...and he'll be tossed out in the NYD garbage like the empty bottle of whatever I'll be drinking because I'm not moving into a new year with folks who really aren't here for me) and not because I didn't get any gifts, but just because it doesn't really feel like Christmas. I tried listening to some music, but that didn't really help. My mother is driving me to drink, but like the idiot I am, I didn't stock up on proper hard liquor before stores closed on Christmas eve...so I'm drowning myself in wine and (yuck) beer. 

Well, I have one thing to be grateful for this year: at least I don't feel like slitting my wrists the right way, so I guess that's an improvement from 2011. Still, is it bad that I was a tad disappointed the world didn't end on 12/21? It is? Meh...I don't give a shit. I'm also proud of myself for not vomiting my sadness all over fb this holiday season...no need to ruin the good cheer of those who haven't hidden me in their newsfeed yet. Oh...and I had to feign absolute joy with the "surprise" (note: yeah right, attention whores) engagements and baby announcements on fb all day (welp, that's six more people I'm hiding from my timeline...me and my missing uterus don't give a single solitary fuck about your pregnancy, congrats, have fun with that).

Next week is NYE...I'm going to the annual NYE BADASS rave up in Baltimore. I'd hoped I wouldn't have to go alone, but ye ole commitment-phobe is refusing to say he's definitely coming or not, so I purchased a single ticket and told him if he didn't want to come, it was no big deal and I'd just go alone (note: it is a big deal and that was a test...and he failed...quelle surprise). I was so excited when he professed his love for EDM, I thought it would mean more of a chance to do things together that we both enjoyed, but alas, no. Oh well...but I'm holding out hope, maybe I'll meet a really nice guy at this party and start the new year on a high note instead of a lonely drive home while crying at the tatters of my life...one can dream right? Please? Anyone? Bueller? 

Also, I miss my dog...like a lot. I can't wait for him to come home. At least that's one male in my life who loves me unconditionally. And on that note, I need a drink because that's probably the most pathetically sad thought to ever cross my mind.

*drops mic*

The Raver's Manifesto

I didn't write this, but I love the message...enjoy:)

Our emotional state of choice is Ecstasy. Our nourishment of choice is Love. Our addiction of choice is Technology. Our religion of choice is Music. Our currency of choice is Knowledge. Our politics of choice is None. Our society of choice is utopian though we know it will never be. You may hate us. You may dismiss us. You may misunderstand us. You may be unaware of our existence. We can only hope you do not care to judge us, because we would never judge you. We are not criminals. We are not disillusioned. We are not drug addicts. We are not naive children. We are one massive, global, tribal village that transcends man-made law, physical geography, and time itself. 

We are The Massive. 

One Massive. 

We were first drawn by the sound. From far away, the thunderous, muffled, echoing beat was comparable to a mother’s heart soothing a child in her womb of concrete, steel, and electrical wiring. We were drawn back into this womb, and there, in the heat, dampness, and darkness of it, we came to accept that we are all the same. We came to accept that we are all equal.

Not only to the darkness, and to ourselves, but to the very music slamming into us and passing through our souls: we are all equal. And somewhere around 35Hz we could feel the hand of God at our backs, pushing us forward, pushing us to push ourselves to strengthen our minds, our bodies, and our spirits. Pushing us to turn to the person beside us to join hands and uplift them by sharing the uncontrollable joy we felt from creating this magical bubble that can, for one evening, protect us from the horrors, atrocities, and pollution of the outside world. It is in that very instant, with these very realizations that each of us was truly born. We continue to pack our bodies into clubs, or warehouses, or buildings you’ve abandoned and left for naught, and we bring life to them for one night. Strong, throbbing, vibrant life in its purest, most intense, most hedonistic form. In these makeshift spaces, we seek to shed ourselves of the burden of uncertainty for a future you have been unable to stabilize and secure for us.

We seek to relinquish our inhibitions, and free ourselves from the shackles and restraints you’ve put on us for your own peace of mind. We seek to re-write the programming that you have tried to indoctrinate us with since the moment we were born. Programming that tells us to hate, that tells us to judge, that tells us to stuff ourselves into the nearest and most convenient pigeonhole possible. Programming that even tells us to climb ladders for you, jump through hoops, and run through mazes and on hamster wheels. Programming that tells us to eat from the shiny silver spoon you are trying to feed us with, instead of nourish ourselves with our own capable hands. Programming that tells us to close our minds, instead of open them. Until the sun rises to burn our eyes by revealing the dystopian reality of the world you’ve created for us, we dance fiercely with our brothers and sisters in celebration of our life, of our culture, and of the values we believe in:

Peace, Love, Freedom, Tolerance, Unity,

Harmony, Expression, Responsibility and Respect.

Our enemy of choice is Ignorance. Our weapon of choice is Information. Our crime of choice is breaking and challenging whatever laws you feel you need to put in place to stop us from celebrating our existence. But know that while you may shut down any given party, on any given night, in any given city, in any given country or continent on this beautiful planet, you can never shut down the entire party. You don’t have access to that switch, no matter what you may think.

The music will never stop.

The heartbeat will never fade.

The party will never end.

I am a Raver, and this is my Manifesto.

#PLUR

Ink blot...

I love tattoos.

My ink is an expression of the essence of who I am.

Ok, that sounded a little extra...but you get what I'm saying, right? I love the body art I have and I chose each piece carefully.

I never understood why some people are so against tattoos (religious reasons excluded). I get that too many on a woman can look trashy, but still, ink can be so beautiful if done correctly. I wish I could get a sleeve, they're so intricate and the good ones show the true care and creativity of the artist who put it on you. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, I'd still like to be able to wear an evening gown one day without looking like a billboard in east LA after Cinco de Mayo), I can't get one myself. Not just because of the aforementioned plans of going somewhere nice enough that I'd like to look like the lady my mother raised me to be, but Corporate America doesn't take too kindly to art you can't cover up (and long sleeved blouses 365 days a year is not an option)...plus, I hate pain, like A LOT. So, I'm content with the three pieces I have now.

But oh do I wish I could get something fantastic going down my left arm...

Damn...I'm lazy

It's been over 2 months since I've posted anything and so much has happened in the interim that I feel somewhat ashamed of myself. So...let's hit it!

1. I went to Vegas for Christmas

Yep, after my maudlin "Christmas is Canceled" post, I had a few cocktails and booked a flight to LV on a whim at 4am. It was pretty dumb (that ticket cost almost $600), but I am so glad I did it. I had an awesome time...all by myself. Booze (adult slurpees with optional Stoli shots? yes please, thank you), gambling (I broke even!), partying...and a nice little surprise: I stayed at Bally's, they comped one of my nights, upgraded my room so I got a really good view of the Bellagio fountains AND there was some Persian music convention in my hotel so it was basically wall-to-wall Persian men all weekend...I thought my plane must have crashed somewhere over Utah and I was dead and obviously in heaven with all the eye candy around me. Heh...needless to say, I was sad to leave Sin City on Sunday. It was cool to spend Christmas day doing something completely different than the usual (although, I did catch A Christmas Story on the tv while I was getting dressed--seriously, it's just not Christmas without watching that movie at least once). I'm now planning a return trip with my best friends for our birthdays next month. 

 Seriously...those "adult" slurpees were the bees' knees

2. I broke up with (and got back together with...then broke up again...then got back together again) my "it's complicated"

Sigh...why can't I quit him? Why can't he quit me? What is it about us that we can't seem to treat each other right, but at the same time, we can't seem to do well apart? Lord help the both of us. Every time we get in an argument, "it's the end" and "we're done"...and then we get back together. I'm giving this one final shot, if it works out, great--but if not, this really will be the last time...until we get back together again. We're getting a dog...we joked about how he's now my de-facto baby-daddy. I want a bull mastiff (I like big dogs), he wants a terrier (he likes small dogs)...we're in trouble. I'd compromise, but I've never seen a terrier-mastiff in my life (and I'm not sure I'd like to see such an abomination lol).

3. I'm moving

I hate packing. That is all.

I have more to say...but I've kinda run out of steam for the moment.

*drops mic*

Forever young...

There are three beings on this planet that I live and die for: my mom, my auntie and...my dog. Yeah, you read that right, I love my dog like a fat kid loves cake. She's 14 now and still the shit. And I will fight anyone all in the face if they dare disagree with me. 

 How can you not love this dog?

Her name is Rajine (don't blame me for the Jedi name...I got her from a total idiot completely obsessed with the Star Wars comic books), she's a brindle pit and spoiled as hell. She even knows how to say "mama." She lives with my auntie now because the Nazis in my rental office and the good (read: stupid) people of the City of Alexandria believe that pit bulls are all blood-thirsty heathens and can't be allowed within city limits. Never mind that she's played with children as young as 2 before with no problems. Never mind that she herself thinks she is a small child.

Alas...the time has now come to seriously consider her next move.

My dog has cancer (really God? as if me having it wasn't enough, you gotta give it to my dog too?), what started out as something that looked like a cherry eye was confirmed to be an inoperable tumor which went all the way to the back of her brain. I took her to see a doggy oncologist (yes, these people exist and no they aint cheap) about 2 years ago and was told that while I didn't have to put her down at the time (she was still 4 years old in her head and very active), eventually I would have to put her to sleep once her illness started to impact her quality of life. The doc said "as long as she can eat and shit...she's ok." The ole girl has since lost sight in that eye and her health is declining in general old-codger fashion. I've noticed in the last few visits that the light seems to have left her eyes, gone is the playful 4 year old and what's left in its place is an old lady who just wants to lay around and listen to the tv.

I'm not an inhumane person. I understand pets are only meant to be with us for a short time, but how do you really know when it's their time to take that final ride in the car? She's still excited when she sees me, she still wants to go for a ride in the car...how will I keep it together once I have to take that car ride home alone? I don't want to lose my dog, but I don't want her to suffer.

*drops mic*