People say it's better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all. I'm starting to wonder if that is true.

I have read studies that show being in love just once makes it easier to fall in love again. But is it really better to lose love than never know love?

I have experienced the type of soul shaking, Earth moving love that women read about in romance novels, see in movies, and hear about it songs. I felt the unexplainable hole fill up. I felt complete and solid for the first time in my life. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with the person who made me feel this way. I thought we were going to get married and grow moderately old together.

Then everything changed.

He left. We both had a part in him walking away, but the fact still remains that he is no longer around to fill the void in my soul. Now, the hole feels bigger than ever and I'm stuck knowing what it's like to have the type of love everyone searches for and to lose it. I know what I'm missing.

So, as I go through my day pretending to be fine and happy, my insides are screaming at me. My brain never shuts up. And I'm angry with myself and with him. I feel deceived by the person I love more than I have ever loved anyone and I feel tricked by my own judgment. How did I not see this coming? How did I not know he was lying?

I think that quip is pleasant in thought, but is completely false in action. If Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind were a real thing no amount of money could keep me from obtaining it.

Maybe for some people it is better to have loved and lost, to have tried and failed, to seek other fish in the sea, but I would so much rather not know this pain or loss. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy because this relationship and feeling has ruined it for me. I can never just idly enter into a courtship again. I can no longer casually date and get free dinner, go out on the town.

Yes, part of it is that I'm simply not ready to date, but part of it is that I don't know if I'll ever feel this way again and how can I be comfortable dating someone that I know will never live up to the feelings I had before?

My sister-in-law, being a scientist, brings up the completely rational argument that based on the sheer number of men in the world, I'm likely to fall in love again and I'm likely to experience the same type of love. And, she has a point. There are seven billion people in the world. If three and a half billion of those people are men, it's possible that I have yet to meet my soulmate and that he is still out there. But, do I really want to wade through those billions of people hoping the find something I've already lost?

Maybe I feel this way because I thought I was mostly over the hurt of this relationship, I thought that I was making progress in moving on, getting over it. Then, I saw him. I don’t know if he knows I was at the bar to watch the game, but I know he was there.

I picked that particular bar because I know he doesn’t really like the neighborhood it is in and he always talks trash about that spot, plus, he cares so little about football that I figured he would rather sleep through the NFC Championship game. But, as I walked up to the bar I saw his employee outside smoking, she saw me and ran back in, looking back twice to see if I was following. I saw her take a seat at the bar top and then I saw him. It was like being punched in the stomach. I just froze. I was not expecting to see the man who broke me, but there he was, with his friends, watching a sport I have never seen him care about. Watching football, drinking beer, like nothing happened, he had no idea my world had stopped for a minute.

I did the only thing I could do, I left. I was reminded of why I want to move, now more than ever, away from this city and this state, away from my friends and family. I need to leave because love hurts. Love hurts more than anything I have ever felt. Being single again, I never want to be in another relationship. I never want to risk feeling this way again because I do not think the risk is worth the reward. And I do not think it is better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all. At this point, I would give pretty much anything to never know what it felt like, to have never been in love with him.

Maybe I will look back on this post in a few weeks, or months, or years and think about how silly I am, but for now, I do not see that happening.

I wonder how many cats the shelter will let me adopt at once? 

RE-PETE

I want to start off by saying that I am die hard Seahawks fan. I also want to preface that I am not a fair weather or bandwagon fan. My father took me to my first game in 1989, I was three years old. We sat in the nose-bleed section of the Kingdome and the Seahawks won. I have been a fan ever since. That being said, I am obviously used to disappointment and I cautiously optimistic about our next Super Bowl appearance. I want to be VERY clear when I say that I want nothing more than a re-Pete Super Bowl win.

Okay, now that I have gotten that out of the way, I need to say that I am tired of fans trying to underrate the Patriots. Yes, they cheated [again]. And sure, some of the meme’s are funny. The one of Marshawn Lynch grabbing his junk as he jumps into the end-zone with a caption “Can’t deflate these balls” is probably my favorite. But, people who say “Cheaters never win” or whatever are simply mistaken and refusing to acknowledge history.

The Patriots are an elite team and Tom Brady is one of the best quarterbacks of all time. This is not Super Bowl XLVIII. We are not playing a team who was mediocre after the Elway era, until Peyton Manning joined, bringing them to the Super Bowl. Tom Brady has been to the Super Bowl with the Patriots six times and won three. He has been NFL MVP twice (Elway is the only other quarterback to win the honor more than once) and was unanimously voted MVP in 2010 (the first time in history); he is the only quarterback to have an undefeated regular season since the 16 game regular schedule was introduced.

So, saying cheaters never win is cute, but simply not accurate. It ignores the fact that Brady and Belichick are great and one of the winning most pairs in NFL history. Saying the “Haven’t won anything since being caught cheating” is misleading at best and completely false at worst. They were caught cheating in 2007 and went to the Super Bowl in 2008 and 2012. Sure, they didn’t get more rings or a really pretty trophy, but they obviously won their division both times (one of those times having an undefeated regular season).

I want the Seahawks to win more that I want almost anything, but I don’t want my fellow 12s to get it twisted. This game is not going to be a blowout like last year. This game is not going to be easy. This Super Bowl is going to test us. I am all about trash talk, but not at the sake of ignoring facts. The Patriots, Tom Brady, and Bill Belichick can eat a dick, but no one can say they are not a great team…even though they are big fat cheaters.

TL;DR Go Seahawks, but let’s not forget we are going up against an elite. I want to keep taking out elite teams and quarterbacks, but I am not as confident this go around as I was last year. 

Hon. Judge McJudgerson Presiding

I have a confession to make. I watch the show “Drop Dead Diva”. It is a terrible show, but I love it. For those who haven’t been lucky enough to catch an episode, it is basically about a shallow aspiring model who dies and happens to come back, but her soul is placed in the body of a powerful lawyer who happens to be…well, fat. While this show is predictable and terrible, it has some gems of wisdom and truth.

As the main character is adjusting to life in her new over-weight body she notices people looking at her differently than they used to when she was skinny. People she was friends with in her past life brush her off and give her what she refers to as “the size up”. This is essentially an assessment made by quickly eyeing a person’s body up and down. I have over-weight friends and family members and I am sure this type of thing happens to them all the time. I am not denying that. But, can we stop pretending like fat girls don’t do the same?

Today, I went to Target. I wore a lightweight nude tank top with neutral jeweled detailing around the straps and collar paired with a bright blue high waist skirt and greyish-brown ankle boots with fringe on the side. Nothing was hanging out. My breasts were covered, my midriff covered, my lady parts all covered. Still, every girl who passed me whose pant size is larger than a size 8 quickly eyed me up and down and looked away. None of these girls looked me in the face or eyes. All they saw was a thin girl showing off too much skin, because apparently this is the 1920’s and knees are scandalous. Even a child did this to me! A child!

I have worked hard to be comfortable in my skin. It has taken lots of hours and discipline to stop saying terrible things to myself about my own body. My cellulite, my less than flat stomach, my back fat, the list goes on. Not being an asshole to my self is not easy. It has been hard to focus on the positive instead of the negative. My awesome skin, my long legs, my great ass! Seriously, my ass is killer. And I am not bashing my curvy sisters! I am not eyeballing you with judgment.

Thick girls are beautiful! I don’t care if you are a chubby girl wearing a bikini or rocking a miniskirt. Sure, I don’t want your skirt to be so short I can see your ovaries, but I don’t want to see that on a skinny chick either. My heavy girlfriends are beautiful. Wear whatever you want to wear.

We need to stop hating ourselves and each other. We need to stop thinking that our body is not the ideal. My body is great not because I wear a size 4, but because of all the amazing things it can do and has been through. My body has healed from broken bones and sprains, heart breaks and mental break-downs, my body gets me through every single long shift I work on my feet, my body takes me places and puts up with the abuse I put it through. Our bodies are miracles! So, let’s be happy with how amazing these sacks of skin filled with bones and organs really are.

Also, it was 9:30 PM and pushing 80 degrees. So, Judgey McJudgerson, calm down. It is balls hot. Let this bitch breathe! 

Hey Facebook, Today is a Holiday!

Today is Memorial Day and therefore my social media is filled with people thanking those who lost their lives in uniform. Of course, the rest of the year most people don’t spend a single thought on the brave men and women fighting overseas, but today they feel socially obligated to publicly give their thanks, so they do. It makes me wonder why the need for these public declarations is so paramount to the lives of my friends. Everything needs to be public anymore. Public announcement of being in a friendship, relationship, engagement, marriage, child, miscarriage, divorce, break-up, break-down, promotion, hiring, firing, job change, college graduation, death of a friend or family member, working out, eating out, sleeping in, cleaning, and of course the obligatory food photos.

What happened to privacy and intimacy, thoughts without shouting them from a keyboard? I am guilty of plenty of these things. I have posted gifts from boyfriends and bragged about how much I am loved; The typical my-boyfriend-is-better-than-yours post. My Instragram is filled with food pictures and selfies. I have complained about college courses and teachers, tests and being forced to show up to class. I have mentioned my sloth habits more times than I care to admit and have more than once publicly patted myself on the back for doing the adult-thing of cleaning my room. I am not innocent of over-sharing or shouting my feelings from the rooftop that is the Internet, but I am getting to the age of asking why? Why do we do this? Why do we feel the need to display our thoughts, emotions, life-events, and gratitude to people who don’t care or will never see it? What happened to simply wearing a red poppy on Memorial Day? Quiet observance and gratitude, when did that stop being enough?

I have stopped posting my relationship status on Facebook and don’t post the cliché
“Merry Christmas” or whatever other holiday greetings, and I have found something really nice and freeing in that. My relationship is shared with my boyfriend and the people close to us. My family and friends know I am seeing him, but the world doesn’t know. It seems better this way, more personal and intimate. My holidays are shared with family and friends. Occasionally I will post a photo of the event (mostly because it is so ridiculous) or I will commonly post racist and absurd statements from my father (mostly because they are hilarious and should be shared with the world), but I try and live in the moment without inviting the rest of the world into my personal life.

Fortunately, none of my friends or family member has died while serving. I don’t know that type of loss. I don’t understand it. I know what it is like to be terrified for a friend going into war. I know what it is like to anticipate the phone call or email so you know they are still doing well in the desert. But, I have never experienced that type of sudden and traumatic loss. Hopefully I never will. Maybe if I had, I would feel differently about these broadcasts of gratitude. Instead, I would rather thank a friend for their service and provide sympathy for the friends and brothers they lost over coffee, drinks, or happy hour. I would rather send a text message or a card. I would rather let them know on March 5 or December 2 or August 12, or any of random day, because something inside me said so and I would rather let them know in more personal method, not via Facebook, Twitter, Google+, whatever, even if it is something as impersonal and private as a text message, I would rather let them know that I appreciate and love them without also having to broadcast it to the world.

I am starting to find the love and gratitude posted on the Internet to be disingenuous. It is a sad day when a text message is more personal. 

Duck Hunt

People are quick to jump on the censorship bandwagon. Let’s be clear, there is a difference between censorship and not providing a platform for a person to spew their crazy. The comments Phil Robertson made are insensitive and ignorant, at best. While I can agree this country is too politically correct, I am not sure that is the issue when a person is comparing homosexuals to terrorists.

I understand that when it comes to right and wrong, there is no gray area with God. Anything that is not right is unquestionably wrong. No sin is better or worse than another. So cheating and murder are equal in God’s eyes. Someone needs to tell God equality is a myth. However, with this understanding of God’s view, it is easy to compare homosexuals to terrorists. In God’s eyes, both are wrong. The issue here is that Robertson did not make the clarification that all sin is created equal. He simply said God will sort them out later, the “homosexuals, drunks, and terrorists”.

His comments about women having more to offer with their vaginas than a man with his anus is graphic and little creepy while still attempting to be complimentary towards women, but it negates what is accepted within the medical community. Homosexuality is no more a choice than heterosexuality. Obviously this comment does more than skirt the line of political correctness.

Credit does need to be given, though. Robertson does say that he loves everyone as God loves all of his children. Hate the sin, not the sinner? He acknowledges that it is not his place to judge; instead God will do that when the time comes. Unfortunately his delivery was off with everything else he said.

I am not even going to touch on his comments about working the fields. Instead, I am going to say that Christians need to remember that not everyone holds the same absolutist views they do. In fact, I would bet that if you ask most Christians, they would say lying is not as bad as stealing or killing. According God, they would be wrong, but as Robertson says “sin is not logical”.

So, A&E deciding to distance themselves from a man who makes blatantly a racist, homophobic, insensitive, and far from politically correct comment is not the same as censorship. Removing the soap box on which a person chooses to stand is not the same as putting a gag in their mouth. A&E is not saying he cannot hold these opinions, preach, do other interviews, etc. Instead A&E is saying they do not share these beliefs or opinions and do not want to be lumped in with this rhetoric; therefore they will not continue to fund a man who spouts these things.

Sure, the argument can be made that by affecting his livelihood A&E is figuratively gagging him, but I think that would be a hard stretch to make. The Robertson family is extremely wealthy. They have plenty of outlets and venues to make money. If anything, I would say this controversy has made them more popular than ever. Walmart will still sell their camouflage hunting gear. Churches are still booking Phil Robertson years in advance. Their company of duck whistles is going to continue selling and growing. This family will never hurt for money again. A&E taking a step back will hardly put a dent in the pocketbooks of Robertson’s.

A&E’s only responsibility is to themselves and their wallets. They owe this family nothing. The relationship was mutually beneficial until Robertson said some crazy things. Then it was up to A&E to protect themselves, their image, and their reputation (which could be argued started suffering long before airing such garbage as Duck Dynasty).

Lastly, can we please all agree that this is not some type of politically correct liberal conspiracy war on Christianity? Can we stop, please? There is no war on Christianity. If there is, I am pretty sure Christianity is winning. According to a recent Washington Post article, the government loses more than $70 billion a year in tax subsidies to churches. Anytime the Pope says anything, ever, at all, it is a headline story. You cannot walk down the street during winter without seeing Christmas trees and lights. Even saying happy holidays is a religious greeting if you understand the etymology of the words. Every day I see at least one person wearing a cross. Christians are more than welcome to express their beliefs. They seem to do it every day without even realizing it.

That being said, a private company does not have to agree with or support those beliefs. Backing away from these statements is not an act of war and insinuating so is leaning on hyperbole. There is no war or scandal by a company trying to protect its image and profits that is simply capitalism. 

We Are Gathered Here Today to Celebrate the Happiness...

I recently read a Huff Post article about banning weddings and baby showers. Honestly, I totally agreed with the article. The author made plenty of great points and my friend who posted the article received some backlash in the comments. So, fine banning weddings is a pipe dream, but can we please all agree that every wedding should have an open bar and allow the guests a plus one?

I know that some people get married extremely young and can’t drink at their wedding, but I have to say that is their damn fault. God forbid I get married, you better believe I am getting toasty on Champagne.  I know some people have addiction issues, but that isn’t my damn fault. I shouldn’t have to celebrate your happiness sober simply because you cannot handle your vices. Some people are on a tight budget I get it, but your open bar doesn’t have to be a full bar. Buy some bottles of wine and a keg or two, call it a day. At the very least, put a flask at every seat and make sure that flask is filled with booze. Like I said, I shouldn’t have to celebrate your happiness while sober.

The plus one issue is a little harder. I have plenty of friends who don’t allow plus ones unless the couple is in a long term serious relationship. Friends of mine have not given out plus ones to people who knew most of the guest list and also weren’t in a serious relationship because it is not like this person would really be alone (the bride and groom shared plenty of friends with this guest). People I know have picked which friends get to bring their significant other and which don’t based on the bride and groom’s feelings about that possible plus one.

I understand that weddings are expensive. I get it. But once again, your guests are being asked to celebrate your happiness and I don’t think they should have to be miserable for you to be happy. I know having wedding guests is expensive with food costs and rental fees for plates, chairs, tables, napkins, silverware, etc. I get it. However, your guests are probably spending a pretty penny on your wedding and I don’t think that should go unnoticed. Planning on sending a thank you card for the gift of ugly wine glasses you picked out is not the same as acknowledging them showing up just for you. Let them bring a date, because not everyone is guaranteed to go home with a bridesmaid or groomsmen or lonely, desperate guest. So, you might be dropping $100 per plate per person, but your guests are probably buying a new dress or suit and tie. They are buying you a gift. If your wedding is out of the area they are paying for travel and hotel. The least you could do is let them bring a guest.

Weddings have a guest list, I get that. Maybe you don’t want your wedding to exceed 100 people. But, then you have to figure that probably 25-50 of those people will want to bring a guest. Plus, if you want to have 100 people, be prepared to have more people show up. It is a party, after all. We all know what happened when our parents were out of town in high school and we told a few friends to come over. Next thing we know half the graduating class is there and the cops are being called. Having the cops called on your wedding is the sign of a true success.

In the true socialist fashion that my bleeding liberal heart believes in (/sarcasm), all I am saying is, if you are going to consummate your marriage you should allow your guests to do all but guarantee getting laid by letting them bring a guest and making sure there is an open bar. If you have to put Rohypnol in the guest bag, so be it. All I am saying is, this is a happy day for you, let it also be a happy day for your guests. 

Blogception

I think I learned my propensity for fear at an early age. My first learning experience with my lack of invincibility came when I was five. I was playing next door with a neighbor boy. I climbed on top of a chair so that I could jump to a branch. The chair was one of those old metal framed folding chair, the kind with the vinyl bands to make the back and seat of the chair. Soccer moms were never without a set of them. We had at least a dozen in our garage. They came out for everything. We brought them to my brothers’ soccer games, Fourth of July celebrations, Air Shows, neighborhood bar-b-ques. We had chairs for adults and chairs for kids. I pulled out one the little chair’s. I hauled it over the tiny fence separating my parents’ yard from our neighbors and stood it up below the branch I want to grab. I don’t know why I was trying to grab this branch? Maybe I just wanted to hang on it, or I wanted to accomplish the feat of touching it. The tree was too small for me to climb, so I know that wasn’t the goal. But the mind of my five year old self is hard to figure out. Anyway, I was all set to jump when my mom walked out of our house.

I saw my mom and panicked. I knew if she saw me on top of this chair I was going to get a strong tongue lashing. In order to avoid being yelled at, I jumped. My jump failed. White people cannot jump. To prove how bad we are at jumping and anything jumping related (See: Basketball), the fates saw fit to break my arm. I was in a cast for the rest of summer. Upside is that my cast was hot pink and totally badass.

A few years later I was in the hospital getting ready to have my appendix taken out. I was terrified that I might die. I was too young to really understand what was happening and why it was necessary for the doctors to cut me open. I begged my mom not to let them. Promised I would make good grades and keep my room clean. I didn’t understand why I was sick. I felt fine the day before, but now I was being prepped for surgery, my blood was being drawn and I was sitting in a hospital gown. I remember seeing another kid outside of the x-ray room. I don’t remember the gender, but I remember them being younger than me. The kid was really sick, something more serious than simply needing their appendix removed. My mom told me how scared that other little kid was, and that an x-ray wasn’t a big deal, they don’t hurt so I needed to put on a brave face to show this other child it would be okay. In the end, it was okay. I had my appendix removed and I don’t miss it. I have a small scar, but I think it adds character. Who needs tattoos when you have scars?

Next time I broke my wrist. I went to the skate deck with some friends. My mom didn’t want me on roller blades because she told me they are dangerous. People were breaking their wrists and arms, they were not safe. I told her I wouldn’t get roller blades; I would just rent regular skates. When I got to the skate deck, I saw everyone else on roller blades, so I paid the extra dollar and rented them instead. I was spinning with a girlfriend, she let go of me, I lost my balance and fell, hard. Broke my wrist. Fuck.

Then, a year later I decided to get back on roller blades. My elementary school has a steep hill separating the upper and lower playgrounds and the field. I decided to skate up and down this hill. Get some speed up and then fall in the sand. Well, on my last run a friend thought it would be funny to jump in front of me and move out of the way just before I crashed into them. Kids are geniuses. I fell backwards and slid on my back all the way down the hill. I was bleeding profusely. For some reason our music teacher was on campus, even though it was a weekend. She found us and gave me a ride to my house a few blocks away. I still wasn’t supposed to be on roller blades, so I told my mom I was skating again. I am not sure why she believed me, why I was ever allowed on roller skates again or why a few years later she caved and finally let me buy a pair of roller blades. Nor am I entirely sure why I thought I should keep getting on roller blades. Stupid.

I cannot count the number of times I have hurt myself doing stupid things. I broke my other wrist ice blocking; I have sprained my ankles more times than I can remember. From an early age I learned that actions have consequences and we are not immortal. We are humans, we hurt and bleed and eventually die. And while that is maybe a little dramatic and definitely morbid it has been a thought that stays with me. I carry this with me in everything I do. I am terrified of the consequences. I play them out in my head, I go over every detail, I analyze every possible scenario.

That is why I am so hesitant and scared when my friends tell me I should have a more honest blog or that I should start a website similar to TFLN or SMDS, called Text From My Friends or something along those lines. Sure, most of our conversations are absolutely hilarious, but they are not always the most friendly or PC. Others say my soul mate and I should start a podcast, and I agree. I think people would love to listen to our ridiculous rants and conversations, but once again I worry about how many people we will offend. Both of say some super racist things and talk trash about our family and boyfriends and friends and coworkers. And while we love these people in our lives, we need each other to vent when these people get to be too much to bear. Part of me wants to bare it all on the Internet, leave myself exposed, I am not sure the risk is worth the reward.

So, this is where I stand. I want to create an anonymous forum for me to lay it all out there. Friends of mine have told me I should, including friends with political aspirations. Yet, I am still completely hesitant. Obviously I would not post this anonymous blog on my own social media. I would need to find other anonymous ways of marketing it. But of course, if it does by some miracle become popular, I know it won’t be long until people piece together the puzzle. Even if I change names, the subjects will still know themselves and could probably figure out some of the others. Therefore, I would be afraid of being too honest. Dealing with the aftermath of secrets and lies is not a road I want to travel.