Just sever that leash and release.

I wrote a short story last night while in a state of mania. It was about a bad break up and then somehow I ended up turning a break up straight into a porn novel. I guess that's what happens when I have miscommunications with my boyfriend, I write bad porns. I'm convinced that I can turn virtually any situation into a bad porno. I mean, aren't most pornos composed of stupid situations anyway? No one really watches porn for the plot. The premise is what? Get naked, stick objects into holes and follow up with cum shots. Wait, before you got naked you were a pilot screwing your stewardess? Shit, how should I have known. Pilots don't walk around with their dicks hanging out and stewardesses certainly don't run around in bras and crotchless panties. What airline was it, anyway? I want to take that flight next time.

I guess since I am no longer having a stupid, yet dramatic, fight with my boyfriend I won't be writing anymore bad pornos. I'm almost tempted to post it but then my parents who read this will really know how disgusting I am. I mean, they know I'm fucked up ... but I don't think they need to read all in detail, right? Who cares if I'm old. They're still my parents despite my gray hairs that are making room for themselves on my scalp.

For now, I'll keep my porno to myself. The focus for the next 48 hours will be Christmas. I have a 25 pound pork leg to put in the oven at 5 in the morning. Goodnight.

Done.

I'm done shopping. I'm done wrapping. I'm done. I'M DONE.

Christmas can just hurry up and get here already. Thanks.

From everything to nothing.

The thing I hate the absolute most about the holidays is how I suddenly become overwhelmed with emotion and the need to give. Give, give, give. I suppose that's the point of the holidays, whether you're religious or not, to sit and reflect and think about how good your life is compared to others and how thankful you are. Maybe it's just me. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only person who feels this way. I feel like my facebook is filled with too many status updates of people who know someone who took his or her own life. I know it's that time of year for suicides. I know. I know people start feeling the loneliest, the most unloved, the most discarded this time of year. I felt that last year. Last year was the first time in 7 Christmases I was without my ex and we had just broken up a few weeks prior. That was the first time in years he wasn't by my side at the table. That was the first time in years I felt like I wasn't good enough for anyone, ever. I was down on myself and put a lot of blame on myself even though I shouldn't have. I felt terrible and ugly from the inside out. I probably posted here on my blog that I was okay or maybe that I was distracted or whatever. I wasn't. I cried a lot until that New Year came and I made a conscious effort to not do that to myself again. Before I felt the need to go run off and party, which was from the New Year forward, I cried a lot. I cried it out but I made it through. I had my mind focusing on all the good things in life to keep me from drinking, dabbling in drugs, or doing anything other than keeping sober until I was ready to be normal again. I know so many people who have gone through hard breakups and drink or go on drug binges until they're in the hospital. I just wish people wouldn't turn to those things and just focus. focus on the good. it is possible that I am too logical in that respect.

This season I've donated the most I ever have. I've gone through all my clothing and shoes and have filled two gigantic garbage bags full of things I don't wear or need, and nothing of any significant value for me to keep or even sell. Even nice shoes that are still relatively new and were once expensive --- they're going to meet a new home somewhere else to someone who will cherish them more than I could ever. I've donated to causes --- one of them being petsalive.com because I started crying when I went to the website. If there's one thing that really pushes my buttons and really overwhelms me, it's dog abuse. Not so much animals in general which sounds terrible. Of course it bugs me. The instant tears and hurt is specifically limited to dogs. Maybe because I've had dogs all my life, currently have 3 that essentially rule my life... But either way, if you're reading this, please give them a donation to their Help for Dead Dog Beach fund. Please.

Every year the building in which my mom works sets up a gigantic Christmas tree full of Santa's wishes. These wishes are composed of children, mostly under the age of 12, who live well below the poverty line and what their wishes are why. I was digging through the tree last year and one really struck out at me. Most of the kids wanted toys or something artistic or some sort of specific item of clothing because they can't afford it. One little girl, however, of only 8 years old wanted bath towels. BATH TOWELS. She wanted them because she didn't want to share wet towels anymore. That really made my heart sink to a place I didn't know existed. I took the wish off the tree and immediately went to Bed, Bath and Beyond and bought her towels. I bought her a whole set of purple towels, because she mentioned purple was her favorite color. I still think about the towels, because it's something so many of us take for granted. Something so simple, something of what most of us think of as a common household item without thinking twice. A bath towel. I'm glad I never met that little girl face to face and there was a drop off location. I probably would have started crying immediately and tried to adopt her one way or another.

Tomorrow I plan on going back to that tree and granting another wish. If any of you are in the area where I live, and presumably you know who I am and where I live and want to donate, I'll give you the address where you can find that tree.

I guess the bottom line to this post is to please get in the holiday spirit, whether you're religious or not, just to give back. Before you buy a pair of Louboutin heels or another Louis Vuitton purse, before you go on some outrageous shopping spree, give a little. If you have change walking out of a grocery store, give the man in front chiming that bell a little change, even if it's a penny. Give back. Give back something. Stop looking at giving back as a liberal versus conservative issue, or an immigrant versus american issue or any way where the government can be blamed. Just give to good causes, even if it's just a little bit. That's all.

Anxiety ridden.

I'm having anxiety. I'm having the type of anxiety that sent me to the hospital when I was in my late teens because I thought I was dying of a heart attack and then I followed that visit with heavy doses of sedatives. A big glass of booze sounds good right about now but I'll deal with this.

Having anxiety issues can be a real bitch sometimes. Granted I don't help my cause with my caffeine addiction. I also don't take anti-anxiety medication because that's a crutch and not a solution. What I have is a voice inside my head that I need to channel and override the other voice that gives me anxiety. I literally say to myself DEAR BRAIN, YOU'RE PISSING ME OFF AT THIS POINT AND I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, GO TO SLEEP BEFORE I PUT YOU TO SLEEP. Then somewhere along the line my common sense kicks in and my brain shuts up. Luckily my anxiety is a fraction of what it once was and it rarely effects me anymore. Periodically I get this and I'm not sure why, it's just been a while since I've had it this bad. Since I can't sleep with this anxiety, I keep myself awake until I knock myself out cold. If I try to sleep I end up waking up every 2 minutes with my heart racing and that gets old, really old.

Today's tragic news is what triggered my anxiety today, I'm sure of it. There really is no other explanation.

So this girl I once knew committed suicide. I feel like people that I once knew are dropping like flies. A couple of weeks ago, someone else passed away that was once an acquaintance, and I hate to say 'thankfully' but --- 'thankfully' his death was an accident. I say that in the sense of where no one is left behind saying, "I can't believe I didn't see the signs," or "I can't believe I didn't help him/her when I knew she needed it," etc. No one is left to sit there and blame themselves. An accidental death, like any death, is always hard but when it's something like a freak accident, you just have nothing but good memories to reflect on.

I have such a rough time hearing when people die of accidental overdoses and suicide, especially when it's from people in my area. I live in an upper middle class, borderline filthy rich neighborhood. I live in an area where everyone has the opportunity for a top-notch education, where everyone has a roof over his or her head, where everyone has food on the table, where everyone drives expensive cars, wears expensive clothing and just simply has the good life that so many millions could only dream of. I find it so hard for a person to actually sit there and think suicide is the best option. It's sad when one is given so many opportunities in life and pisses it all away for a drug addiction, an addiction that ultimately leads to depression and other emotional and mental issues. Often times I'm driven crazy by the problems that people I grew up with have and it's like no one has ever been thankful for anything they've ever received. ever. Forget that we're Americans with more over-all life opportunities offered here than any other country in the world. Forget that. Here. Bubble Town. Where everyone is rich. Your greatest problem might be your parents who don't hug you enough, but that's menial in the great scheme of things. Life goes on whether you want it to or not, and dwelling on the past and not even looking to take a step forward will never help you. Everyone wants to play the victim. Everyone wants to find a reason to be sad. Everyone wants to cry about their problems and not accept them for what they are and move on.

I've become less tolerant of suicides, depression and the absolute need for therapists and pills to get you through life after reading The Mole People by Jennifer Toth. It's about the homeless who live in underground tunnels in New York City. Talk about poverty. Talk about mental issues. Talk about the seriously ill who need the most help of all. This book is her first hand encounters with the mole people as part of her research as a graduate student at Columbia U. A huge chunk of this book is her direct quotes from interviews and her reactions and interpretations. There's also a lot of her interaction with the NYPD and their issues with the mole people --- Some who understand the plight of the mole people, and some who don't.

It's sad, really --- All the dwellers in the tunnels gives Hoovervilles a better, hotel-like name in comparison to the the way the mole people live. Even more so, it makes my upper middle class neighborhood filled with prescription drug addicts and suicidal kids look even crazier than anyone living in the tunnel, that's for damn sure. Reading this book, reading the lives of so many who live in completely destitute, whose living situations are worse than your stereotypical starving third-world town, really gets your mind going on a whole new level. These people live in complete squalor. These people eat and sleep where they defecate all while being survivalists --- Because murder is common. Because you are never safe. Because someone is always watching you and wanting to steal the few possessions you may have that more than likely have a lot of emotional value. It's not just sleeping on a park bench --- it's being so completely screwed up that you're willing to live a hundred feet or so underground, never see the light, hunt 'track rabbits' (aka rats) to eat and hope to join a community of other homeless is really, really sad. And you know, none of these people end up becoming suicidal. Surprisingly, there are so many hopeful people in the tunnels that it sort of makes all of YOUR problems seem completely inferior and meaningless. Yes, a majority of these people are ridiculously hooked on drugs and yes, there are a lot of accidental overdoses or whacked-out people who die on the tracks for being methed up and losing their minds. However, that is not the case and story of many of them --- Some are just purely down on their luck, and some just never had a chance at life. There are also some who are illegals, working minimum wage jobs no one else wants to work, who save every single penny of their earnings to hopefully buy land somewhere and find a better life --- But there is hope there and a lot of it.

Here. In Bubble Town. In the land of rich and spoiled, I honestly can't feel all too bad. It's hypocritical of me, in many ways, to just say GET OVER IT and move on. I'm one of the luckiest people on the planet --- I have everything I want and then more. I have two loving parents that despite all my screw ups in life still support me and love me so long as I'm not some freeloading junkie (this has never been an issue, btw). I have family everywhere I can turn to, who love me and I love them. A fantastic boyfriend who ultimately loves me for me even when I'm being a pain in the ass. I have an incredible network of friends. I have money in the bank, the ability to shop and travel and most of all, I am healthy and able bodied. Right now, today, in this world --- I am great. And sometimes I find it so hard when people around me have so much in common with me yet still find a reason to fall to drugs and take their own lives. It's selfish, and I don't care how mentally screwed up you are. I really don't. The Mole People in many ways confirms that you can be BEYOND mentally disturbed and STILL find a reason to live.

Don't get me wrong, I've had my hard times. Ive lost my mind on more than one occasion but I've always bounced back. I've had hard times as a kid that I really don't want to go into on my blog, experienced shit that I should have never that essentially stole my innocence as a child. I've lost a home due to fire and felt what it was like to lose all of your worldly possessions and feel for a short period of time what it is not to have a home because it's gone. There one minute and gone the next. Throughout my life I've had some hardships, maybe not to the extent of losing a parent which I believe would probably be the hardest, at least for me, but even through what I've been through, I've pulled myself together without the aid of a therapist or medication. I've never felt suicide was an option even in my darkest moments. I've never felt the need to dabble in drugs to fill whatever void I have. I've had it good my whole life when reading the lives of people here in America, much less in other parts of the world... And I know so many in my fucked up town who have had it better than i have yet still find a reason to let go. It's fucked up really. A majority of us didn't grow up to the theme of Bastard of out Carolina. Sometimes I just don't understand how people can be so selfish. I suppose that's the bottom line.

If you read this blog, I want you to take a moment and be thankful for your life. Be thankful you have the ability to read this, access to a computer, the drink, whatever it may be, that's probably next to you right now and the roof over your head. Be thankful. Don't wait for Thanksgiving. And if you read this --- and maybe you are a depressed and a suicidal person --- Please seek help. Don't do the selfish thing and hurt the people around you that you probably think don't exist or don't love you. There's help out there, I promise you. The same goes for anyone that reads this and is having issues with substance abuse. There is help everywhere. Just don't be afraid to ask for it.

Anal and Aviation.

No, I did not have anal sex mile high club status. I probably should have just to say I did but that's another story.

So in my quick trip to the east coast I discovered something very important. IT IS MOTHER FUCKING COLD IN DECEMBER IN MARYLAND. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO VISIT MARYLAND WITHOUT HUNDREDS OF LAYERS OF FLEECE CLOTHING AT YOUR DISPOSAL AT ALL TIMES. The entire time I was there I was mistaken for the Michelin Man. I was so bundled up that my armpits got sore from attempting to move around in so many layers of clothing. I'm honestly lucky that I found my only snow jacket. The snow jacket I so happen to have bought in Switzerland when I visited last March because when I visited Europe in the spring time, I was completely unprepared for cold weather much less snow. Let's just say if I would have never gone to Switzerland and experienced cold weather and snow, I would have not had that jacket. If I would have not had that jacket I probably would have made my way into the subway tunnels of the DC metro and befriend a bunch of junkies that live in the subways to keep warm and to come back with good stories.

My last journey to the east coast was a whopping 3 weeks ago and I was on a mission to find myself scrapple. Every opportunity of scrapple eating that I thought I had never materialized (scrapplized?). This time around, I told my friend Katie, who was nice enough to play host to me, that I would refuse to leave until I had my scrapple. In turn, I almost missed my flight but I had that scrapple. Sadly I wish I could say it was worth it. Assuming there are degrees or grades of scrapple, I would assume this was the dog food version of scrapple based on everything else I was served today for lunch. Pictured above is my lunch I at the Forest Diner in Mount Airy, Maryland. AVOID THIS DINER. Yes, I am going to Yelp review the food as being the same quality of waste that comes out of my dog's rear end. I ate half of the scrapple just to say that I actually ate scrapple despite the fact that it was deep fried and burned to the point where I may now have colon cancer. I guess that's not funny to joke about when that runs in my family. FORGIVE ME. The corned beef hash which is normally my favorite eats in diners was completely inedible. It was probably the least appetizing thing I've seen in my entire life (see photo of disgusting round item in sliced from the can and pushed out shape), and I'm willing to guess was leftovers from several years ago. The best thing I ate was the toast with packaged butter. I was hungry on the flight when it was supposed to be my pre-flight food. I had to order a TAPAS BOX on the flight which had olives, cheese and crackers, roasted pepper tapenade, hummus and whatever else Mediterraneanesque that United Airlines could think of that would cost nearly nothing to produce that they could get a significant profit from. I was sitting next to this really cool guy and we talked a bunch (more like I talked a bunch, I believe I talked his ear off) and after we spoke about food (erm, I spoke about food) he made fun of me for eating the tapas box. I showed him a picture of my dog shit for lunch and even he agreed it was probably a wise choice to go for the airline food. That guy was really awesome. I wish I had people like him to talk to on all my flights. Can't get lucky every time, right?

In closing, I just wanted to say that I conquered 8 degree weather. There's another item I can knock off my bucket list: feeling single digit temperatures without dying. See, I did it. I'm only pussy when I want to be.

What happened?

I'm not exactly sure where the time has gone. One minute I'm completely obsessed with this blog and the next it's like this thing doesn't exist. There have been a number of moments where I've said to myself that I've been neglecting this blog but have continued to ignore my blogger needs. Suddenly, weeks have gone by and still no update. Damn, I suck.

I posted last when I was in New York City. That was the begging of my Mid-Atlantic food tour. From NYC I followed with going to Princeton, New Jersey so my folks could see a friend of theirs and I saw a couple of friends of mine. Followed by Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington DC and Virgina/North Carolina.

The food trip was incredible. If I were to explain in detail of every single thing I ate and experienced I would be writing this blog for the next few days. Instead, I will sum it up.

Best palate experience: Morimoto's in Philadelphia. The only restaurant I've been to in years where I have no clue how to reproduce half of the food I ate. It really was a mind-blowing, mouth-fucking experience.

Most overrated: Delilah's FAMOUS mac n' cheese in Philadelphia. OPRAH, YOU SUCK.

Most fun: Pat's v. Geno's food feud in Philadelphia. I side with Michael Symon, PAT'S for the win. Sidenote: TONY LUKE'S is by far, hands-down much better quality of a cheesesteak. Bobby Flay is right.

Best classic dishes: TIE. Between Caracas Arepa Bar in NYC or La Isla in Hoboken, New Jersey. Both of them were featured on Throwdown. The Throwdown dish from La Isla was the stuffed french toast which actually didn't blow me out of the water like the arepas did. It was just their over-all classic Cuban food which was done to absolute perfection. My mom ordered the choripan and it reminded me of my childhood when my grandma lived with us.

Everything else I had lived up to its expectations. What blew my mind the most was the BBQ from mid-way through Virginia through North Carolina. Even more so, how the restaurants often offered Carolina-style BBQ sauce and Virginia-style BBQ sauce... Which much to my surprise was nothing of what I thought to be BBQ sauce to be, especially North Carolina style. When you hear that North Carolina style is a vinegar base, they honestly mean it's fucking vinegar --- lots and lots of vinegar. The people were nice, the food was awesome.

The picture above was at this place called Currituck BBQ in some podunk town in North Carolina. The place was packed with hunters and this picture was to prove that I saw hunters a'plenty. As a Californian I have seen a lot of things in my life, things that some people should see and experience and have also seen things some people will never and should never. Point is, something Southern Californians lack in their daily lives is a good dose of hunters. Strange almost, but cool.

On another note, I'm actually going back to DC tomorrow. I'm going for work, but I get an additional 36 hours after work to play around in DC. I'll get to go to Granville Moore, one of the places on my list that I didn't go to on my trip. STOKED! :)

I also bought myself a netbook today for traveling. I'm going to invest in a mac, FINALLY --- but I realized that if I go traveling around with a mac and God forbid anything happen to it, I will probably shit my pants and cry until I drown in my own tears. Now I have this awesome little netbook that fits in my purse and if someone jacks it, fine. All I had on it was e-mail, AIM and facebook. Go for it. Bitch.