I feel sloppy, but I feel good.

You know whom I hate?  Pretty girls.  So, in other words, I hate every single one of you ladies.  

*POSITIVITY RE-ENFORCEMENT:
You know whom I love?  Pretty girls.  So, in other words, I love every single one of you ladies.

*FUNNY RE-ENFORCEMENT:
You all manage to look so gorgeous with your hair thrown up in some messy bun that somehow manages to look stylish.  Then I go look in the mirror and I’m like, “WTF is that rat’s nest?!”  Hahah.

But, really.  I’ve been cleaning like a madman for the past two days, since I haven’t been home in what seems to be weeks (and practically has been).  I feel super accomplished.  I managed to get my lavatory looking super clean and “open”, if you know what I mean.  Because I knew I had the day off, I had no care in the world to dress up.  So, hello high school gym shorts (which aren’t even mine; they’re Vincent’s) and oversized tee.

I probably wouldn’t go out looking like I do now.  I have before, but I probably wouldn’t now.  I have come to the realization that, no, I do not look completely unfortunate when I’m dressed down, but that, yes, I should take pride in the beauty I do have, whether that be reflected in my apparel or in my make-up.  Which, I don’t wear much make-up anyhow.  Usually just eyeliner, and on occasion foundation or lipstick.

BUT, in my defense, the weather isn’t all to sunny and bright, either, yet, it’s still beautiful out.  I guess that’s how it is with me, and people spending their day like I am: not sunny and bright, but still beautiful.

SO NOW THAT THAT’S OUT AND OVER WITH, how’re you lovely people doing today?  What time is it in your part of the world (It’s 2:15 here)?

The Little Things.

People treasure the strangest things.  For some reason it always seems to be the popular, cliché, typical BS that everyone always raves about.

For example, prom.  Remember how effin’ HUGE prom was in high school?  Or any dance for that matter.  I’ll put it blatantly: I was never asked to prom.  Or any dance.  Not by friends, not by some studly man.

Or graduation!  something as simple and free as graduation.  Graduation is so kick ass.  It’s a time when you can raise your middle fingers to the sky and tell the world that you’re the f*cking bomb.  It may seem totally pathetic now, but I know people who are my age (20, for those of you who weren’t aware) who are still in high school.  Graduation is awesome.  Period.

Or — shoot! — flowers.  Flowers are great, don’t get me wrong.  My favorite flower is the scarlet pimpernel.  Sunflowers are gorgeous, too.  But it seems like no girl is happy (specifically with their significant other) unless they come home with a big, beautiful bouquet of roses.  But, I s’pose that’s every girl’s fantasy.  It sure has hell was mine for 19 years.

But, those are such little things.  Things that, sure, I guess they matter, but in all reality, they’re simply little things.

What I mean is, since I was never asked to a dance, I never got one of those cute prom/homecoming/etc. dance pictures.  While all of my friends and then some were out dancing, I stayed home, Facebooked, Tumblred, and watched sappy romance movies like The Notebook, or something Disney-related, like Toy Story.  It wasn’t until I went on a cruise with my best friend Roxie in 2010 that we met what is now called The Entourage.  The Entourage consisted of Ava, Joe, Carmela, Hayward, Paul, Trevor, Damien, Roxie, and myself.  We rocked that cruise like no one else on board.  One night, we went out for a fancy dinner.  We got all dolled up (and spiffied up for you gentlemen) and went for photo ops.  Ava goes, “Get ready, guys!  We’re about to take our prom picture.”  And that was it.  It honestly struck a sweet chord for me.  I had never — ever — had a picture with a date.  Now?  Now I have a picture with eight dates!  It was by far the best prom night I could have ever dreamed of.  (The Entourage prom photo.)

Ah, graduation.  High school was an interesting road for me.  I loved high school.  I had such rad teachers and some pretty hilarious friends.  But, because I graduated high school a year early, I never got to experience graduation.  Not only that, I never got to experience any of the senior activities, like grad night, senior pranks, etc.  Honestly, that never really bothered me, but what DID bother me was that I was never included in my senior yearbook.  But even then, I was still not bothered.  While all of my mates were studying hard and crazy for finals, I was studying hard and crazy for my ASVAB.  After enlisting in the military and shipping off for boot camp, the one and only thing I could look forward to was, of course, graduation.  It came to a close halt when I was diagnosed with shin splints just a week before graduation.  I was medically cleared the morning of graduation, but my MTI (military training instructor) wouldn’t allow me to be a part of the graduation ceremony.  I nearly cried.  My family had traveled just to see me graduate, but they would end up seeing me sitting on the side benches instead.  Luckily, my squadron supervisor demanded that my MTI allow me to be a part of the ceremony.  Once again, it struck a sweet chord.  Like I said, I never got to experience graduation, but while all of my friends were graduating high school, I was graduating and becoming a world class airman. (Military graduation.)

Flowers.  Such a simple delicacy.  I’ve been in 7 serious relationships (including my present relationship).  Some lasting years, some only months.  Never once have I been given flowers.  Funny enough, Iii actually gave my crush a flower on Valentine’s Day in freshman year of high school.  For some reason, this always left me incredibly bummed.  Like, WTF?  Aren’t men supposed to swoon the ladies with wondrous roses?  Aren’t they supposed to surprise them with a great, big tulip or somethin’?  Movies are such lies.  NO man I’ve ever known brings the love of their life flowers.  Except for my father.  My father constantly surprises my mother with flowers.  I guess this is where I’ve just grown up to see it happen, so I suspect it’ll happen to me, too.  Not the case, however.  The first and only time I’ve ever been given flowers was (coincidentally) on the day of my graduation from boot camp.  Roxie was unable to fly out to my graduation, so she had flowers SENT to me.  To this day (and forever always), those flowers and that memory will always remain my favorite bouquet of flowers.  (Flowers. Love, Roxie. [Excuse my face. We weren’t allowed to look pretty in boot camp.])

Why the f*ck would I write a novel like this?  Mainly because I’m reminiscing.  Because it humors me how much of the little things we truly take for granted.  I didn’t get to experience these little things when everyone else did, but I did experience them.  And, honestly, it truly is the little things that count.