Not Official Yet… But…

So we’ve previously discussed that I have no life plan. I just fumble through life and once in a while I impulsive DO SOMETHING. This week I impulsively did a thing.

Let’s backup.

On Wednesday my mom woke up at 230 in the morning and her brain kicked on. It decided to show a reel of all the poor choices she’d made in her life. That set the tone for the whole day. It wasn’t a good day. Recently, because she keeps thinking about the fact she’s going die, my mom keeps trying to get things in order so that when she does die, I’m not fucked. Lol. I’m a pretty independent twenty-something, but with no other family to fall back on, she worries. I get that. So she’s been looking around to see where we could move that would afford me a better career opportunity. So, as she does, she was talking about us moving to Daphne, AL because there’s a Controller position open down there. I’m not a fan of the idea of moving pretty much anywhere that isn’t California (looking for no snow and no hurricanes but with beach access). I’m also not looking to be a Controller. My mom’s a Controller. I’ve seen that hell. It’s not what I’m looking for. So I told her no, because my eventual goal is California, but if she thought that would be good for her that she should go.

Apparently, that stabbed her in the heart and tore it out of her chest. She was mad as shit at me for that comment. Also, she felt the need to remind me that I’m not GOING anywhere. So… she got to relive all her bad choices at 230am, and she decided to remind me that my life is going nowhere. Great day… lemme tell you.

So we had to have it out. That’s how we communicate. I had to explain to her that I don’t really have a plan. I’m not a planner when it comes to my life. It made her sad. I also had to explain that I’m just not trying to stand in the way of her being happy. People DO go off and start over at sixty-something and enjoy the rest of their life. That’s a thing that happens. Then we got into:

“Do you think I’m smothering you?!” -her

“No, I think you feel responsible for me and how I do nothing with my life, because I’m boring and have no motivation.” -me

“You don’t have any other family when I’m gone! There are people in the South that are your family. In California, all you have is your dad’s family, and they’re not gonna help you.” -her

“I don’t want to move to California to be close to family. I don’t talk to family. I don’t even wanna move to the same area as my friend that lives in California. I’ve accepted that at some point I’m gonna be alone in the world and it’s fine. I just want what I want!” -me

So… We came to a weird impasse, but at the end of it, I pretty much explained that because of my own poor life choices I am stuck here indefinitely till after Keagan and Kyrie pass on. I’m hoping, of course, that that’s not terribly soon, but that’s how it is. I can’t move with four dogs and a cat. Keagan is 14, Kyrie is 10… So 4-6 years from now I’ll be ready to make a move. Also, in four years I should be out of my student loans. So my “plan” is to hang out in Denver till then.

Back at work, we were supposed to hire a Finance Assistant.
This made me kinda irritated.

You see, I asked our previous GM if I could learn to sell. He didn’t take me seriously.
I asked our previous Service Manager if I could be an Advisor, AND was prepared to go back to school for it. He didn’t take me seriously.
So, I was kinda irritated that if we needed a Finance Assistant, that the GM didn’t think to ask if anyone in the office would want to move up.

Long-story-short, the finance assistant isn’t coming. There’s a lot of politics in there as to why, but she’s not coming. So… I decided to throw my hat in the ring. He couldn’t see me that night, though. So I talked to him yesterday.

The job sounds daunting and stressful and generally awful. I’m helping assist finance, but I’m also supposed to learn finance and start selling myself… and help sales… so like the entire floor will be yelling at me for help. Still, all I could think of was Brooke.

Brooke was a finance person we had for a long long time. She was pretty, and confident, and scandalous. She also made a killing every paycheck. Obviously, we can’t all be Brooke. Brooke is an idolization that I aspire to be, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be her a little bit.

As of this morning, it’s looking like I’ll be moving to finance. First we have to find a title clerk, then I have to pass the sales licensing test, change my hair, get a “customer facing wardrobe,” and learn what I’m going to actually be doing… but all signs point to me giving up my Saturdays and learning to be on the floor.

It’s scary as fuck.

When I had to move from middle school to high school, I was terrified and cried about it.
When I had to graduate and start college, I had a complete panic attack and tore all my fake nails off on the first day of classes.
When college was over and I realized that I wasn’t gonna get a job in my field, and that I had to make an adult decision for employment, I copped out and just staid here.
I don’t handle big changes exceedingly well, is what I’m saying.

But… I impulsively did a thing, and it’s looking like that’s what I’m doing… regardless of if I’d rather back out and hide in my house forever, instead.

I’m hoping that with the increase in money, even if it’s not that much to start with, that I can get a new car… and build my way up from there to being more of a really real adult… or get a maid… I really want a maid…

Important thing is that it appears I have some kind of short-term game plan… and if it doesn’t work out, I have all my accounting and title experience to fall back on. But I hope it works out. Moving for a job in finance is better than moving for a job in accounting. Better pay, more options… so… it’s scary but it’s good.

Anyways… more when it’s official, yeah?


Attractionless – Being AroAce & Dealing With It Like An Adult


It’s been almost a year since I started toying with the idea that I’m asexual. In that time, I’ve thought I was ace, gray-ace (grace), aro, panromantic… It’s been confusing as hell. I think I’ve settled on AroAce, though. I don’t feel romantic attraction, I just get lonely, and apparently that’s not the same thing. I definitely don’t feel sexual attraction. Recently, I’ve noticed that I don’t even really feel aesthetic attraction toward people. I just look around and everyone looks so… not good. It’s like I’m in a Twilight Zone episode.

Twilight Zone

This exact episode, really.

For the sake of clarity, I should specify that there are different kinds of attraction.

  • Sexual Attraction
    • Looking at people and feeling a pull to have sex with them
  • Romantic Attraction
    • Looking at people and wanting to have a romantic relationship with them
  • Aesthetic Attraction
    • Looking at people and seeing they’re attractive
  • Sensual Attraction
    • Sensuality is a pleasure that involves the senses
    • This is often classified as the want to cuddle with people and stuff like that
    • I never really understood what made it different from sexual attraction, myself

So… I’m asexual: no sexual attraction. I’m aromantic: no romantic attraction. Since I feel sensual and sexual attraction are pretty close, I can safely say I don’t feel sensual attraction. Actually, if you give me the option between sex and cuddling, I’d rather just have sex and get it over with. Cuddling is weird. I only do that with my dogs. And then there’s aesthetic attraction, and I’m not really feeling that, either, right now.

You’d think that feeling nothing toward anyone would un-complicate things. No crushes, no squishes, no weird feelings to hide. I guess that’s true enough, but there’s also the weird feeling of feeling selectively nothing.

I’ve felt, literally, nothing. I’ve hit that place in the void of mental illness where you can’t feel pain, happiness, loneliness, sadness… feeling nothing is a familiar feeling to me. It’s like an old friend that I might not see very often, but I am completely comfortable being with. To¬† feel nothing in only certain parts of my life is not comfortable. It’s the emotional equivalent of your foot falling asleep. It’s totally fine, until you realize it’s asleep. Then it’s all you can notice, and you get that weird tingly feeling than is somewhere just shy of pain.

That’s what it’s like to feel no attraction for anyone in a world that is so reliant on attraction.

I reconciled the sex thing. I can brush off the sexual attraction comments of friends pretty readily. Everything else, though… it’s weird. A friend tells me how hot a person is, and I completely don’t get it. I see a very cute couple, and my stomach falls into my butt because I know I’m never gonna be part of one of those. Someone makes any kind of statement about cuddling, and I want to run for fear they might touch me. It’s weird to not understand, especially when the world assumes you’re familiar with the feeling. It makes me feel so broken.

I don’t like feeling broken. I might be fat. I might be crazy. I might exhibit poor impulse control. I might be asexual. I might be aromantic. I might be all those things and a million more, but I am not BROKEN. And I don’t appreciate a society that makes me feel that way.

We’ve come to a point in history where they try to tell you that nothing you experience makes you broken, but in the same breath people will come back around and treat you like you’re some alien foreign thing if your life experience is different from theirs. The level of hypocrisy is just insane!

So I’m making a promise to myself.
I’m not going to feel broken anymore.
No, I don’t feel attraction of any kind to people.
Yes, I enjoy being alone.
No, I’m not close to people, even in a platonic sense.Yes, all of that is just fine.

And that… is how you adult…
You fake it until you make it.
You operate under the assumption that everything will be okay and that you’re the normal one.
You accept that the present is just something to get through.

Paris and Boomerangs

It all started the day that Paris closed.
I was sitting at home, doing nothing of particular interest and very blatantly avoiding my chores, when I read the article. ‘Denver’s oldest coffee house closes its doors.’ After 28 years, the owner of my beloved Paris had decided to call it quits and do something else with their life. A new coffee shop would move into its place later that month, but something about it was still devastating.

Perhaps for most people a coffee house wouldn’t hold such impact on their life, but for me it was like someone had just officially closed the gates to my adolescence. Even now, I can see my 15 year old self huddled around a table with my friends. All of us making a large black mass in the back of the smokey cafe full of chain-smoking young people with laptops and table games. I laugh and sip my quad-shot of espresso with chocolate, hellbent on never sleeping again. We smoke clove cigarettes, and the vanilla flavored ones we bought before the government outlawed flavored tobacco. Flash forward and I’m still there, sipping wine and talking about how there used to be a wall here, and once upon a time we smoked in the back room. I had spent the last eleven years, on and off, at Paris. Through menu changes and remodels, through high school and college, through celebrations and devastation, I always knew that Paris would be there for me with a hot cup of coffee, a glass of wine, and a French dip with jalapeno cream cheese and sprouts. Now, it was gone.

I immediately sent the article to my best friend in California. We’d just gone to Paris recently, when he came to visit for the holidays. “This distresses me more than it should.” It was nice to have someone to commiserate with on this.

It’s like the end of an era.

I don’t know when other people feel like they become adults, but yesterday was the tipping point for me. Paris was the one thing I could still grip tightly to myself when I felt like being an adult was too much. Now it’s not there. Yes, there will be a new cafe. Yes, I will be able to sit in it and look around and see my past self sitting in the same places. Still, there’s a sadness that creeps in, for nothing will ever be the same again.

In completely unrelated news… I have a date.
I think his name is Chris. He’s a boomerang, meaning I’ve dated him before. We dated for like four months. It was nice. He’s shy and very sweet. He even changed my tire on the side of the highway… and never once tried to get in my pants. The latter freaked me out at the time, because I thought there was something wrong with me, but now I’m kind of excited to know that he’s not going to try anything.

We’re going to a restaurant by his house, as he lives near Coors Field, now.
I hope he shows up… I have this fear he won’t… I dunno why I feel that way, but I do.