Everybody Is Good For Something Different

Who says we have to be married to one person for the rest of our lives? The traditional vows of monogamy only ensure monotony. It doesn't offer the variance I so deeply crave. I've never crossed one person who has been able to hold my attention for longer than my menstrual cycle.

This past week I met two specific people that got me thinking.

I met someone who swore he was different. "I'm older. I don't play games. That's tired. I just want to be in a relationship." He said all the right things and I caught myself thinking about things I shouldn't think about so soon.

I met someone who swore he was the same. "All guys are the same. I'm just a regular guy. I don't want to be in a relationship." He said all the wrong things and I caught myself thinking about things that would make nuns cry.

Then, something completely amazing happened. 'Mr. Original' ended up being the same and 'Mr. Same' ended up being original.

Original 'John' said all the same bullshit the others do and as much as it's what swooning girls want to hear, it surprisingly was not intellectually, socially or sexually stimulating.

Mr. Same said things I've never heard before and as much as it's what any easily bored girl wants to hear, it was surprisingly intellectually, socially and sexually stimulating.

I have this short attention span. I like TV shows, not movies. I like songs, not symphony's. I like good friends, not best friends forever. I like trysts, not relationships. I like New Year's resolutions, not lifestyle changes. I like blogs, not books. I crave change. I lust difference.

I don't think I believe in love. (Rejoice! Bitter Janna is back!) I don't know anyone on a personal level who has met that one person who completes them in every way. We aren't wooden, prefabricated puzzle pieces. We're human beings with complex DNA. We change, evolve, learn, adapt, build habits, break habits, live and die.

This has led me to believe that everybody is good for something different. Why can't I get laughs from one person, romance from another, sex from a third and intellectual conversations from the last?

Who am I to say I will be the same person in one, two, ten, fifty years? I'll change. You'll change. Some for the better and some for the worse. Sounds familiar. For better or worse. Do I really have to stay with you if you go crazy and murder your father with a shovel? *Flash to wedding day* "I do." *Back to now* "I DO?!' Let's rewrite these vows. Repeat after me:

"I vow to have [my way with] you [when I want to],

to hold you [underwater, if you piss me off],

from this day forward,

for better [grammar] or for worse [judgement],

for richer [intellect] or for poorer [jokes],

in sickness [unless it's mental] and in health [care reform disasters],

[and] for as long as we both shall live [I promise to change.]"

War and Heartache,

Janna

Cake

Disclaimer: The following will be filled with anger, curse words and typing before thinking. This is a true snapshot of my twisted thoughts, busted brain and dead heart, as I will not be proof-reading this before I press "Publish Post." Continue if you must, and know I will regret this later.

Dear Lonely String-a-long Joe,

No. You do not get to have your cake and eat it too. You do not get to talk to me like I am a whore and say you're "disappointed in me." You are not my father. You are the one who loved me and left me crying in the airport parking lot. You built me up and made me feel impermeable to fault just to fly an airplane into my heart and take me out at my base. You watched me crumble to the ground. And you sat there! You fucking sat there and watched like it wasn't happening to someone else. You couldn't say a word other than, "I can't help how I feel."

But now you're back. Saying all the same wonderful things but getting jealous if I'm with someone else. You want to be special to me. Fucking 180. What happened? Someone doesn't do it the way I do? No one else makes you laugh or feel warm-fuzzies like I do? That's cause it's me and it always has been. (and you fucking know it.)

My fault: I - like a total jack ass - let you back in. But I question myself before letting my guard down too much, what does this mean? The reply? No commitments. Look Yankee, you either have all of me or none. None of this half ass, when it's convenient for you bullshit. "But you're in Texas." I get that, but then don't get mad at me for seeing other people. I'm not going to be back burner Janna who's there when you want to feel good about yourself. (Reference "Boomerang" Blog.)

That's not fair. That's not real. That's an idea. You're in love with a thought. You're infatuated with the facade. You miss a connection. You don't want me. You want an idea. I know that and it fucking kills.

All.

Or.

Nothing.

I haven't been the same person since that day in August. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, but you can look in the mirror and thank yourself for it. Because if you don't like it, fuck off. This is what you did.

It's my birthday in two hours and I have had more drama in the past day than I have had this whole year. This shouldn't be how my year of twenty-four begins.

War and Heartache,

Janna

Reset

Here we go again. Back where we started or where we left off rather. You there. Me here. I cannot imagine this ever working the way we want it or need it to.

But I just can't seem to let go.

You have my attention like you've had all the while.

I wish this damn button was real.

Thieving

You know when something is so loud you think you hear something else? For example, you're vacuuming and you have to stop because you swear you hear someone talking to you.

My head is occupied by this screaming, white noise of everyday life and all I hear is whispered calls of my name from something, someone. But when I silence this noise in my head and rack my brain for where to go, alas . . . only silence.

Maybe you hear it too? The same screaming feelings and emotions of what you think you're supposed to be screaming towards but someone else is calling your name.

It's not me. Your impetuous lust for attention fervors a desperate plea that makes me sick.

Careful Now

Am I supposed to feel different? Because I don't. I have these same stagnant feelings. Complacency. Longing. Distrust. Bitter. Cold.

Yet, I cannot go one day without someone telling me how happy I am and how great I am at making people laugh. Huh? I've been this same person since I was 21. Selfish and lonely but loving every second of it.

I've been saying out loud more and more lately that I don't want to get married. Every time I hear it, it's like someone else is saying it. And I think that person is crazy for not wanting to be married and have a family and cook and clean and do all those wifely duties. But the more I say it, I think I believe it. I actually believe it. Marriage sounds terrible. I don't want to share a bathroom and have to rely on someone for happiness. I am so happy alone. Things are my way and I don't have to change things about me or do what someone else wants. I know that is the epitome of the word selfish, but I know I am. I admit it!

Flip it. I have this stupid emo heart that quotes songs and writes in blogs about feeling different things for different people. I want to mush these people together and make someone I could really fall for. Then I'd believe in being in a relationship. But none of them are perfect and neither am I.

Don't want me cause I don't want you.

Don't want me. I don't want you.

Biology

It's funny how we confuse sexual chemistry for a solid foundation to base a relationship on. Those memories and feelings burn into your brain and create lasting feelings of yearning. You become addicted to that high you felt when the dopamine and oxytocin flooded your brain. Oxytocin is a chemical that is released in your brain during several different times in your day. Most notably: before, during and after orgasm. Oxytocin just so happens to also be released in babies brains during breastfeeding to produce bonding between mother and child.

I think these emotions are elicited at a biological level because as human beings we are here to do one thing: procreate. Our biological desires to populate the earth are so strong we are consistently brought back to the people who stimulate these chemicals in our brain the most.

This has me come to rest on my final thought; I woke up from a dream reaching out for you. My hand is still there and I have yet to feel anything back. I'm not ready to let go.

Be Fri

I've never had a "best friend"; Someone who was legitimately a constant in my life. I've always had and have many good friends. But no one who is my number one on my speed dial or that I use the phrase "my best friend _____, really likes that too."

Some have come close but none seem to stay. Maybe my standards for a best friend is too high? I define a best friend as someone who trusts you and you can trust, and someone who is there for you, both physically and emotionally.

It's a weird feeling to be this disassociated with people. I blame it on my need for independence stemming from being an only child. Or that all the good best friends (like good men) are taken.

Or maybe it's a much deeper rooted issue. What if it's me wanting to be disassociated with people? I do not let people in this impermeable structure that is my heart.

I can't even remember the last time I cried over something that personally effected me. I cried during the last Conan O'Brien. I cried during a YouTube video about slaughterhouses. I didn't even cry when I moved, when my mom was in the hospital or when my grandmother had a stroke.

Just to make it clear, I am not proud of this. I want to be emotionally available. I want constant people in my life. I want love and sharing and all that mushy bull shit.

But before I can have "D) all of the above", I need to learn to leave my baggage at the back door.

Ladies Room

Do you ever wonder just what exactly goes on in women's restrooms? Well, here is your opportunity to find out. I am going to let you in on a little something that no man knows and not many women realize happens in the ladies room. We'll start from the begininng.

In the bar girls get and give dirty looks. Instantly judging each other's outfit, hair, weight, even the company you keep. But the second you're in the ladies room in that well lit place where everyone is eager to freshen up and expell fluids, something magical happens.

Compliments.

"Your bangs are awesome. I have always wanted bangs like yours and could never pull them off, but yours are great." "That top is so cute! Where did you get it?" "Your eyes are so pretty! I'm so jealous."

I like to call it the "180 Ladies Room Phenom". After this 180 degree turn of emotions, you will smile and have a connection with those girls the rest of the night.

Consider yourself enlightened.

Displace Me

I just recently relocated all of my things to Austin, Texas. However, I am not home yet. I feel so displaced. No where is home. Staying at my mom's in the guest room and living out of an overnight bag while all of my things are collecting dust in this amazing apartment in North Austin - but I haven't made that my home yet either.

This is just uncomfortable. How long does it take or what does it take to make a house a home? Love? Love what? I live alone.

But what's new? I'm "Miss Independent" and always have been.

"Oh, it's so admirable to be so independent and assured by yourself!"

cough*bullshit*cough. I'm starved for attention.

Anticipation

The shitty thing about anticipation is that you can eventually build up so much of it that nothing will be able to top what you have in your head.

But if we change our ideals and never expect anything, that's such a boring life to live.

It's like the night before a big event in your life and you can't sleep cause your tummy is fluttering, but when you wake up, Christmas is canceled or he is a terrible kisser.

Yeah. That's the same.

Break

There is no difference in a breakdown and a breakthrough.

Breakdown: pissed off, depression or acting out. Anyway you slice it, you're broken.

Breakthrough: the light at the end of the tunnel, flashes of how better off you are and rising above your pain.

But you give in when you break and fix yourself just to break again.

Breakout.

Mood Ring

The thing I most respect and love about people is when they don't hide anything. You can straight up ask them a question and there is no stutter or embarassment and they answer.

I'm like a mood ring; wearing your feelings so close to the surface is dangerous but it's the only way to never leave anyone wondering how I feel.

I need to purchase a patch of a bleeding heart for my sleeve. You know, make it more literal then metephorical.

Resolve

New Year's Resolution.

Wept.