Navigator aka Shipless Fun

• 2009-11-25

  You cannot receive what you don’t give. Outflow determines inflow. Whatever you think the world is withholding from you, you already have, but unless you allow it to flow out, you wont even know that you have it

  — Eckhart Tolle

• →

  I am going to give this...

  yet ANTOHER try. Why? I just really want ancient relics from my college/post-college days that I can show my kids. Are you ready? Let’s try.

• 2009-10-06

  

  spendingtimewithyou:

  someplace where no one knows my name

  The amazing thing is- I will be. Really soon. Before I even know it.

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  Put Up or Shut Up

  Since when, may I ask, did Facebook chat flirting become acceptable?

  Its become more and more common as the summer rolls along (At least maybe for me, because before this summer I was fat, awkward, self-conscious, and had really terrible teeth). Im  browsing the “book” while at work, maybe before going out, or just checking if you have any comments, and suddenly that popping noise comes up that all but maybe 5% of facebook users kind of dread (but would never admit that). And it’s some guy who I’ve maybe talked to once. This guy could be a freshman from school, someone I did a show with months ago, even a former co-worker. The conversation is always awkward (At least from my perspective), and at the end of small talk that is completely unwarranted (but I still participate in because I feel bad and wouldn’t want to be THAT guy), there is an ambiguous “let’s hang out sometime” OR, my personal favorite “do you want my number?” which has been asked of me twice and was completely out of the blue.

  I’m not a socially stunted person by any means, but the last time I checked, I enjoyed a guy who had the balls and decency to show his face to me without the filter of a fish lense, sepia tones, or slutty blurry club pics. I get it, we live in the technical age, and I am well aware that people in this time of “change” are both super self-conscious and super tech-savvy. BUT. BUT. BUT- c’mon! You need to use a friggin’ social networking site to line up your possible suitors and then send then chatty messages about their weekend, classes, or facebook statuses? Or worse, you strike up a conversation about their TWITTER?!!?!?!?!?! That really makes you look datable…. no seriously, it does, just like how that nice touch of l’oreal foundation makes your acne scars look less dense in your profile picture from tigerheat last week… delicious.

  Maybe I’m just a rare person who values speech. I mean, I’m seriously considering a career in the art of teaching people how to speak correctly, and that is something in my facebook profile. I’m also a nerd, born and bred, who reads a book a week, and likes to do things like sit in Starbucks with a novel from Time’s top 100 of all time list on sundays, or ya know, blog about my collegiate misadventures on tumblr. So naturally, I appreciate hearing someone’s voice within the natural cadence of a conversation. If you can’t approach me, and strike up a conversation with me, and prove you are worth my time without getting time to think about cute little emotions to puncuate your conversations, then you, my dumb immature friend, are not worth my time. Because not only do you obviously have a life, or self confidence, but you couldn’t even take the time to decipher these two basic facts from my profile before trying to scam into my pants! SERIOUSLY? SERIOUSLY?

  If I wanted to join e-harmony, I would join e-harmony. If I wanted “some” i would go get some like every adult so does- by casually flirting face-to-face. Eye fuck me or go home, bitch.

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  Why you gotta be anonymous?

  Today begins my first official day blog journaling on this here tumblar-thang. I’m sick of feeling uncreative, and like I said in my mini-post a week or so ago, I’m sick of feeling like I’m running through molasses.

  Speaking of sugary sticky things, if my typing seems struggle-based and strange while you sit near me in the library on this crystal clear autumn day, then you obviously don’t know that I spilt an entire cup of L and L sweet and sour sauce on my computer. So not only does it feel like my life is ticking through gluten-based corn syrup sludge, but my keyboard feels like it’s submerged in it as well.

  Today I’m struggling with a decision I need to make- how anonymous do I make this blog? I want to be honest, truthful, and reveal things about myself in a way that will necessitate a need for me to write, akin to Julie of Julie and Julia, or that bitch from the Nanny Diaries. However, I also feel as though this blog falling into the wrong hands could become a bit of a hazard. I don’t feel comfortable telling you about all of the people that annoy me, all the crushes that let down, and so on and so on, because I have creepy friends that will undoubtably interrogate this thing like a bad performance of Mac-B.

  So here’s my decision. As a good friend says, it’s bravery month. It’s time to forget about the fact that I live for other people (a common error in my judgement). I live for myself, and readers (all -10 of you), I am going to be brutally honest, right down to the offensive nicknames i give my toms, dicks, and henriettas. Just wait, and be afraid those in my life who have the time and energy to read this.

  So here’s a bit about me, as stolen from my cryptic, “I constantly try to be a hipster but I’m really just a faltery gay nerd” about me on the fbook.

  About me:

  Right now?
  21. 
  Orange. 
  The word dingus
  Huevos Rancheros.
  An omelet from Felix’s. 
  Torch Song Trilogy.
  Amaretto Sours.
  My voice, which is all I need. 
  Tapatio Sauce. 
  Buffalo Sauce. 
  Ketchup.
  Mom. 
  Rice. 
  The Word Beautiful.
  An 8-10 Minute Mile, which is impossible on two sprained ankles.
  “Little Voice” Sara Bareills
  The Word Delicious.
  The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner. 
  Cloudy Sundays.
  The New York Times. 
  My 63-year-old best friend.
  “Don’t Stop Believing”. 
  Green China.
  Gavin Creel. 
  Working on one’s self (thank you Stani)
  An office of my own. 
  Academia at an Ivy league.
  Joni Mitchell.
  Stevie Nicks. 
  Billy Joel. 
  Starbucks on 8th and 45th.
  Julian Perretta.
  Adele. 
  The National Bookshop. 
  Am-UR-ica. 
  Being Young.
  Hardcover Days.
  Paperback Nights. 
  The Book of Salt by Monique Truong. 
  And my beautiful ass face. 
  Kosher?

• 2009-09-28

  I'm going to give this

  another shot.

  Because I’m bored, and just spent thirty minutes complaining to my father about it. I can pretend that I’ve exhausted all options to enliven these last 7 months in California. Or, I can fight the feeling that I’m slowly failing.

  I’m a fighter. Not gonna lie.

• 2009-07-09

  

  Fall 2010? 

• →

  

  jeanbean:

  Gotta love Natalie Dee.

  my co-worker is sassssssy

• 2009-07-08

  

  spendingtimewithyou:

  “library-a-go-go”

• →

  Man Falls to Death into Vat of Chocolate

  inothernews:

  notthatkindagay:

  This one is not from the Onion. Hand to God.

  Oh, fudge.