Things That Terrify Me Part I

When I was younger, let’s say 6, I saw Legend for the first time.

 

This is all my older sister's fault

Unicorns and goblins and fairies and the such.  Great kid-friendly movie? Um, hell no.  There’s also Satan his-effing-self, called “Darkness” in the film, a huge horned demonic monster:

 

What happened to the freaking unicorns?!

Darkness is portrayed by actor Tim Curry. Yeah, that Tim Curry.

 

This douche from Home Alone 2.

Sure, as far as movies go, Legend isn’t all that bad.  Most young kids would probably see the movie, get kind of scared, have a few nightmares and then get over it/grow up.

Well, most kids don’t have a sister with ridiculous tastes in creepy-as-shit movies. Some other titles I viewed with my dear elder sibling were The Fly and Mosquito.

Oh, and there’s also…

 

Yeah, that's right. Fucking "It."

Who remembers the actor who played the demonic clown Pennywise? Anyone? Who else but Tim Curry!

Seriously, where the hell were my parents?

And there you have it, folks.  To this day, clowns scare the hell out of me. Besides the Stephen King inspired film, clowns are scary on there own.  Think about it.  The image of a person has been distorted out of color and scale.  They are often part of circuses or young people’s birthday parties- where the combination of too much sugary junk food, loud noises, high energy and chaos only lead to sensory overload.   The surreality of their typical environments set them up as another element adding to the stress of it all.  Oh, and today they are now synonymous with psycho killers. I wonder why.

I’m also terrified of Tim Curry, but I’m pretty sure that’s unique to me.

 

Then again, I'm sure others find him scary.

 

 

 

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The Search for a F**k Buddy

A Comprehensive Guide

When looking for a fuck buddy, it is very important to consider various elements before you even start making a mental list.

  1. Why do you want a fuck buddy and not a boyfriend?
  2. Are you sure you want a fuck buddy and not a boyfriend?
  3. Consider how having sex with someone could ruin your friendship.
  4. Now, consider that ruined friendship.  How bad is that going to be?

Honestly, looking for a fuck buddy is not a good way of acquiring a boyfriend.  Don’t think you’re clever and going around the building to sneak in through the back door.  When men think they’re getting casual sex, they are getting casual sex.  Whatever you’re getting, say, your hopes up that he’ll want a commitment instead of no-strings-attached sex, you’ll be getting disappointed.

I think fuck buddies are a great idea if both parties are operating on the same frequency. I say again- both parties need to communicate.  Also, both parties need to be willing to walk away from the table if things get messy.  If either person decides they want something beyond casual sex, if the sex is awkward or just plain bad, or if either person meets someone they want to begin something with, the sex is going to stop.  And you need to be OK with it.

Fuck buddies are a convenience.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t have time for boyfriends and all the crap they bring- dates, meeting the family, etc.  And, frankly, I don’t have the energy and I’m just a little too bit about me right now.  That’s right, I said it! Me, thank you very much.  I like to sleep in, hog my own remote, leave my bathroom in the state I like it and throw dirty laundry wherever it may land.  So, no boyfriends, please!

You cannot pick a fuck buddy up from the bar.  That’s not a buddy, that’s a new acquaintance.  You should have had contact for awhile, no his last name and at least his major or where he works.  Friends of friends are great options.  You want familiarity but not a guy-friend you treat like a gal-pal.  My friend Brian, for instance, could never work as a fuck buddy- I’m way too comfortable telling him about dying my hair, shaving my bikini line, that wicked zit I popped last night and my period.

My most recent fuck buddy has gone AWOL.  Why, you ask? He broke the rules.  Well, we both did, but he started it! (I know… sigh) First, we decided we wanted to try “dating.”

You can’t go from a few years of casual sex, in between your respective long-term relationships, to trying to start your own.  You cannot do it. You get too accustomed to being buddy-buddy.  We had no idea how to treat each other like Significant Others.  We’d been doing the “Wam, bam, thank you Ma’am” (love that phrase) for too long.  It was habit to get up, get dressed, and get home.  It’s been a huge cluster-fuck and we haven’t spoken since before Thanksgiving.

Now I have to find a new one.  Casual sex at your convenience is like an iPod.  When it’s gone, dammit, you want and need a new one- STAT!
My current candidate is an ex of mine.  Yes, I believe it can work out when two parties used to be committed but are no more.  Of course, the platonic relationship should have been going on for a long enough period where you can feel comfortable talking about daily stuff like work and school but not too comfortable, like complaining about your period cramps.
The Ex and I broke up about a year ago and we’ve had a platonic relationship for a couple of months now.  I’ll say this: when we were together, the sex was awesome! I also believe he and I are open enough with each other to the point where one of us could look the other in the eye and say “This isn’t working,” and we’d be OK afterward.

So, keep in mind, fellow hunters!

  1. Find a buddy, not your best friend.
  2. Make sure you’re not trying for something “more” than just sex
  3. Make sure you’re prepared for the worst or to work through the worst
  4. Prepare to walk away, quickly, silently.

Happy hunting!

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Can I Get This Guy to Speak at My School or Something?

I’m enjoying a quiet evening in my apartment, alone, watching “Inside the Actors Studio,” listening to James Franco describe filming his newest movie, 127 Hours, which I’ve somehow managed to ignore until this point.

Aron Ralston found himself in a canyon, his arm trapped underneath a boulder.  He was stuck there for 5 days before finally cutting his lower forearm off with a small, blunt knife.  He then made his way out of the canyon where he hiked miles before meeting help, and, hours later, was air-lifted to a hospital.  He’s still alive today and continues mountain climbing and does the occasional motivational speech event.

Um, this guy is beyond bad ass.

The idea of cutting of my own arm makes me squirm and I doubt I’d be able to do it.  At the same time, I doubt I’d relish becoming dehydrated or starve to death.  I suppose my best hope is that I have something relatively sharp on me should the occasion arise… so I have options? No, really, in all seriousness, I don’t ever hope to find myself stuck beneath a boulder nor do I have the gall to assume I know how I’d react in such a situation.

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Another white girl on her laptop at Starbucks

Here I sit, at one of my local Starbi, typing my super awesome blog, listening to some indie Christmas music.

I hate that, just a few months ago, I was running around Europe.  It’s not that I think I’m too good for Kennesaw.  I don’t.  In Europe, though, I was walking around with my mouth hanging open, marveling at it all.  Well, I didn’t marvel at the nastier bits of town, at least, not in the way I marveled at everything else.  What I really hate, though, is Metro Atlanta’s lack of cafes.  There is… Starbucks…and that’s about it.  There are various other chains that sell coffee, sure, and various other places that sell pastries and sure enough yes, there are other various places where I’ll go ignored as I write.

I’m not so sure what to do about this writing thing.  What I’ve regarded as my hobby I have begun to consider a possible career possibility.  The past week, though, I’ve become discouraged while waiting for news about an internship I’ve been interviewing for.  The last I heard from the company was last Monday, asking about my hours of availability.  I took it as a good sign but I’ve yet to hear anything back.  Why, after two interviews, two applications, various submissions of my resume and quite a few writing assignments, why ask for my hours of availability and then not contact me for a week? Lame.

It’s my fault for getting my hopes up about the internship, of course.  It’s not that I thought I had a chance in hell for my first interview, but after I got invited back for another one, I was feeling pretty good about it.  Did I mention this is a paid internship?  If I got it, I’d essentially have found another job.  If I got it, I’d be working more than 20 hours a week, earning 6 credit hours for school.  If I got it, I’d be earning credit for two classes! Can you tell I want it?

If I don’t get it, I won’t be upset that I won’t be killing two birds with one stone class-wise, I’ll be upset that I won’t get to quit my job.  I have totally checked out.  My performance at work continues to be great, of course, but emotionally I’m gone.  I’m just smart enough to not let it affect how my current bosses view my work.
Considering how far I’ve check out, I’m surprised with myself at how much I continue to do at work that is above and beyond my normal duties.  Today I decorated a few items that we are selling to push them.  Try to make them look more attractive, anyway.  Essentially, I added some pretty tags to them that say “To” and “From” attached to some ribbon I curled.  Whatever, it looks nice! A lot nicer than what they looked like before, anyway.

I’m keeping my mittens crossed for that internship.  Please please please!!!

Sigh.

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A Letter to my University’s Financial Department

bursars@kennesaw.edu

To whom it may concern,

As a student at Kennesaw State University, I am appalled at the school’s decision to use PayPath as a means to
charge tuition and other fees.  The charge of 2.75% applied to my tuition led to a cost of over sixty dollars. Where is
this sixty four dollars- non refundable sixty four dollars- going? * To PayPath? There is no way that company is charging
KSU that much for their services.  Is it going to the school? Surely the school has charged me plenty of fees for athletics, health,
“land acquisition,” and other uses I find pointless.
Thank you for charging me sixty dollars on top of the twenty three hundred I’m already paying to attend this institution.  I sure hope it’s
going towards replacing Patricia from the Foreign Language Lab or for a lawyer so we can finally rid ourselves of tenured professor Griselda
Thompson (really, they have to go).
Thank you for charging me sixty dollars to take classes next semester that I really have little interest in taking because, somehow, the classes I wanted to take
were full by the time I was able to register, despite the fact that I am a senior.

Go fuck yourselves,

Jessica Sides

 

Obviously, I didn’t really send it.  I sent the first few sentences and then ended it demanding a response.  I doubt I’ll get one…

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I Like My Ex’s Best Friend

Palm, meet forehead- smack!

This all started with what I realized to be a failed attempt at dating a guy for the…twelfth or so time.
We’ve had the habit of, when both of us are single at the same time, fooling around, catching up, then going our separate ways.
It began as a high school crush- one that, for all I can tell, he didn’t quite reciprocate. I kept trying to get him to commit (as much as someone can commit in high school), but it was never going to happen. Eventually it led to something purely casual.

The most recent of times was this past winter. The Ex (THE) left me right after Christmas and the day after it happened I realized Chris was moving back to town. He’d moved away with his parents and I hadn’t seem him for most of the time I was with The Ex (again…THE).

Crippled with the emotional wreckage, I went crawling to him. After leaving me, The Ex had taken one of the dogs we adopted together. Without means of taking care of her, I was forced to put up my own dog for adoption. Despite finding her a good home with a family, large house, large yard and plenty of kids to play with, I was distraught. Besides the break up, I was then dealing with the loss of my dog, ashamed for allowing myself to bring an animal into my life, loving her, giving her a home, then telling her to “stay” as I closed her new home’s door in her face as she tried to leave with me.

So, what I did with Chris is beyond stupid. I slept with him, hoping it would help me move on, hoping that if I did, I could prove to myself that I wasn’t going to be alone for the rest of my life.
Had we been in a relationship, the sex would have phenomenal. Of course, I was emotionally shitfaced. It was far too soon to even try. I’ll put it this way, Chris himself told me he’s never seen a girl “get dressed so fast.” I practically ran out of the house. And I feel really bad about, it, I do.

After I left I drove to my best friend’s house. Brian and I dated in high school but now we’re purely platonic. Regardless of our past relationship, we remain best friends, and that’s that. I told him I slept with Chris and he told me he had suspected as much, by the way I sounded on the phone.

So I found myself trying all over again. After 6 months, Chris confessed to me that his “patience is wearing thin.” Appreciate my confusion as I hadn’t considered he’d been waiting for me to get over The Ex and date him. I thought I was the only one waiting for what seemed like an endless period to get over him. Sadly, I wouldn’t get over him until the end of July. I studied in London for a little over a month and when I returned home I met up with The Ex.

I’d spent the past 5 weeks in a blissful state of exploring a new country, meeting new people and getting away from my life. I got to know the girl I used to be and dug her out from where she’d been hiding. I did pages and pages of writing in my journal, working it all out. I wrote about The Ex, how cruel I’d been to Chris and how ashamed I was at my ignorance of his intentions.
I knew it wouldn’t work out but I didn’t consider it was because we lack chemistry. I thought about how he actually pursued me, which, frankly, I didn’t care for. Despite my shame and embarrassment over following The Ex around like a puppy, I hated the idea of it being any other way. No, I did not disregard that I threw away my dignity, but there’s my own lack of self-esteem to consider. When a man pursues me, it terrifies me. I cannot believe that a man would actually want to pursue me, and if I can believe it, I’m positive he’s out to take advantage of me somehow.

When I told Chris I still wanted to get back together with The Ex, he was beyond angry. He didn’t speak to me for weeks and we didn’t speak while I was in London. I thought about him just as often as I did The Ex, though, when I wasn’t putting conscious effort into not thinking about either of them, trying to enjoy my trip.

In late July, thank God, I came to my senses. I realized what a terrible relationship The Ex and I had. I realized what a jerk he was, and how emotionally abusive he had been. I can openly admit that he was- once- physically abusive, now that I understand why I have been ashamed of admitting it even to myself. To describe what really happened would make it appear far more obscene than it was, but I can tell you this: it happened once and we broke up shortly after, near the time I made it clear I wouldn’t put up with that shit.

So in late August, Chris and I started speaking again. Because he had just moved back to town, he started attending the same university I am, and we began to hang out often with my best friend, Taylor. Taylor liked how Chris and I got along and she suggested I try to go for it one more time. I was doubtful but it was difficult to see fault in the plan. Chris and I get along wonderfully, most of the time, playing on each others’ humor well, having known one another for quite some time.

He was hesitant at first. He told me that, this past summer, during my oblivious idiocy, I’d really hurt him. One, this was significant because he was telling me about his emotions. Two, this was significant because he was admitting to pain, specifically.
He also told me how, in addition to his trust issues, he was hesitant to even attempt to give me a second chance. What I thought were words of assurance, I explained to him I wasn’t looking for anything serious and I just wanted to test the waters. At this point I still failed to understand the severity of the situation for him.

Despite knowing better, I slept with him again. This time around I wasn’t emotionally shunted but I knew something wasn’t right. The chemistry wasn’t there and I was terrified that it meant that I still couldn’t be with another person, ignoring the more obvious reason- it just wasn’t going to work out, even if I wanted it to.
I really knew we were in trouble when he invited me to go with him and his family on a cruise after Christmas. I was excited about going- who doesn’t want to go on a cruise in a tropical locale during winter? Then I panicked. One, I didn’t have the $950 I would need to go. Two, this was a commitment, although one a couple of months long, that I didn’t want to be in. I was so ashamed of myself. Just then I realized that the tight feeling in my chest and stomach cramps were anxiety over this commitment. Sure, it was fueled by the financial aspect of it, but I knew what was going on. I tried to pretend that it was just the money issue. When Chris went as far as to offer to help me pay, I wanted to die. What should have made me happily able to go instead made me feel nauseous.
I was determined, though. After I broke it to him that I couldn’t go to on the cruise, I could tell how disappointed he was. He’d been working on making it possible for me to go for a few weeks at this point. Again, I felt awful. My determination to make it work or allow us to ease out of the pressure of dating prevailed, amazingly enough.
So, I made it a point to take interest in what he was doing outside of school. We easily spoke about his classes, and at the time he and his best friend were working on a home-made flash video. He’d been mentioning what a pain in the ass the whole thing was turning out to be, and I was genuinely interested. Regardless of being a terrible not-quite-girlfriend, I’m still his friend, dammit.
It was then that I realized I’d never met his best friend. I’d heard about him for years and I started to joke that I didn’t believe he existed.
“Who? Lance? He exists! Really? You two have never met?”
A couple of weeks later Lance was sitting at a table with us at a sushi restaurant nearby school.
I was nervous about meeting him. I was terrified there was a reason I’d never met him during the 8 years I’d known Chris. Maybe he was a jerk or simply socially inept or God knows what.

We hit it off immediately. And by “hit it off,” both Chris and Taylor used those exact words. Chris used them with doubtful hesitation, Taylor with girlish excitement.
I hadn’t considered him an “option,” of course, immediately. Chris’s best friend? No, not allowed. Taylor thought this was ludicrous. “Boys don’t care,” she told me.

After sushi we all went bowling. I had a few too many to drink as soon my motto about bowling was “you bowl better the drunker you are!” (For the record, I won the last game, despite my intoxication.) It was getting late and getting time to go. Chris had an early morning, Taylor and her boyfriend were getting tired, I had to work the next day- but there was no way in hell I could drive. For one, I’d carpooled with Chris over to US Play and left my car at the sushi place. Also, I was piss drunk.
Taylor half-heartedly offered to drive me and somehow Lance’s name got thrown in the hat. I can’t remember if he volunteered, if I asked him or if Taylor did but he said yes, he’d drive me home, spend the night and drive me back. I should have known that it was trouble that I was happy.

On our way to my apartment, Lance was giving me an interrogation, gently asking me about Chris, what our “story” was, my past boyfriends, etc. I was happy to talk talk talk because I was drunk drunk drunk. So I told him all about me and Chris, our many attempts of dating. I told him about me and Brian and how we still remain friends. I even told him how I used to date Taylor’s boyfriend for a short period but that I perfectly happy the two of them were now dating because they were such a great fit.

I jabbered away until we got to my apartment and then I kept talking. Even when I’m drunk and uninhibited, I don’t talk that much. Around strangers, I clam up and I’m quiet, quietly observing, taking notes, figuring out people. With Lance it was just yak yak yak- I’m surprised he didn’t tell me to shut the fuck up.

We changed into PJs (I lent him some sweats and a too big for me shirt) in my closet, and I took that as a good sign. Thank God he wasn’t going to try to get in my pants! It occurred to me that I’d brought a stranger into my home, while drunk, and that he could easily overpower me at any time should he want to. But then I thought, “No, he’s not that guy.”

Despite my Blood-Alcohol-Content, I was still awake. We chatted about past relationships and random stuff until we ended up falling asleep.

During the next week I had a problem. I still believed the famous “bros before hoes” sentiment but Taylor quickly bashed it. She told me what I hadn’t realized I knew: that Lance and I got along really well. That when I was sarcastic and kind of blunt he picked up on it and kept the joke going as opposed to stumbling into it. That he was ridiculously adorable and that I liked him.

Shit.

A week after sushi and bowling we met up for Italian and bowling. Just me, Taylor and Lance, this meeting was a bit more intimate. He questioned whether I was jealous that Chris might be with another girl at that same moment and I told him “No.” At last week’s dinner, Chris was said a few things off-color about the “kinds of girls” he dates- how did he put it? “Slutty.” Ew.
Things were going well. The three of us had enjoyable conversation and Taylor was trying to work her magic. At this point, I knew I wanted Lance.
I acknowledged that this was wrong. I weighed my options. Physically, I had every reason to want this person. Emotionally, I felt comfortable with him. I was impressed with him as well- he has similar interests as I do, has already graduated, has plans to attend grad school, and studied English in college. (I’m an English major.)

That night he stayed over at my place again. This time there was more intelligent talking on my end (it was his turn to be a little drunk). We cuddled and kissed and I have to say it was nice. I wasn’t stuck in my head and I could just enjoy it. We fooled around a bit but, determined to make this stick, I told him flat out I wasn’t sleeping with him. When he asked, I confessed it was because I didn’t want him to think poorly of me. He was fine with it and we continued keeping it below second base. The next morning I lay in his arms while we watched a movie while still in my bed and then we went out for a quick breakfast before I went to work.

…Haven’t heard back from him since Friday.

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