Bimbo Club

Not a day goes by where I can say i don't feel the loss of his physical presence in my life. Often, it manifests itself as me staring off into the distance, lost in the specifics of a certain memory...sometimes sad and others joyful, but always incredibly latent with emotion. Emotion that the world seems to have lost for me now.

The mornings still have the magical sound of tropical birds but no longer can I hear the echo of happy breakfasting. The days filled quiet without the voices of discussion, nights with only the shadows and wind as a soundtrack...no more classic film stars under the stars. Me, left half of the person that I used to be.

There are happy times. Many wonderful things are left to discover in this world. For instance, the vast amount of articles to read on trilema. I've seen people fall in love, new cities, trained a beast, read books... all the appreciations of the world that make up a human being.

On the loneliest of days, my chipped heart and starving mind, cannot help but believing that I won't be able to figure it out without him. The 'what' being everything, of course. The whats, the whys, the how comes... all of the answers that came from the super power of being his. That I'll forever be stuck interacting with a world in which I do not speak the same language. Possibly everything I try at, I'll fail. Me being the captain of an unnavigable shipping spinning on a course of illusion.

Despite all the questions, I know at least one thing for now and that is that, it doesn't really matter. Maybe one day the color in the sunset will start looking as vibrant as it used to. Or, perhaps, walking will again feel like the passage through time¹ that it once was and maybe... it won't. Incredible ideas, fascinating observations, and stimulating articles will always be there to consume. So I will muster the will I have left to grab what I can and do without the rest. Its a shame that some days I feel saddened in the knowledge that my trees were just starting to grow branches, when in reality I'm lucky to have a root at all.

So yes, two years of time have passed. But two years in this continuum is no time at all.

1. I pity anyone who did not get to walk with Mircea, for that is what walking with him was like. Passing time through the telling of passages of time. [↩]

The first eighteen years of my life were spent in Highland, which is a small town in Indiana. I grew up with my single dad and two brothers in a blue house with three rooms. The town consists of maybe 20,000 people in 7 square miles - one high school and a corn field on every other corner. To continue on with this Norman Rockwell painting, my dad worked at one of the few surviving steel mills, Arcelormittal. Highland exists in the county of Northwest Indiana, which is known for being a big player in the steel industry. A large portion of the elderly are barely surviving off of pension checks from the closed down US Steel corporation. Most working adults either worked at the steel mill, the utility company, a hospital, or they travel the hour it takes to work downtown Chicago. Northwest Indiana has a certain suffocating culture that I haven't experienced outside of the Midwest. Growing up, it always scared me that no one ever spoke about how new industries or companies were never developed in the area. Sure, you can find as many diners as you can cornfields, but nothing profitable was ever built and I imagined one day waking up to find a ghost town. The accepted ideal was that change is bad and everyone should be striving for a past that was left covered in grain dust. My dad, Bruce, always seemed personally offended that I wouldn't subscribe to the idea that living in Indiana didn't suck. He was perfect for Highland, its like he was crafted out of clay to exist there. My brothers and I always teased him about being born with a hat and mustache, and his standard uniform was a flannel shirt or t shirt combination with jeans. When he was eighteen, he bought a cabin on the Tippecanoe River, which is about two hours south of Highland. The only summer vacations we ever had were at that cabin, which was dubbed - 'The River'.

As a child, I was forced to tag along with my dad to the river. Often enough my brothers were left alone or escaped to a friends house, which was fine for me because I enjoyed the alone time with my dad. The drive there became comforting for me. This was in part because, those weekends at the river were the only time in which I saw my father relax. While driving there we would listen to music from the 60s and 70s and talk about everything. The man had a tragic life and took that pain out on my brothers and I.
My father has three brothers (which includes his twin) and he hardly knew his father, as he was an absent alcoholic. Unfortunately, my grandfather died when my dad was only in his twenties. He also lost one of his brothers and then my mom soon after I was born. He was known for only having two moods - which consisted of being either extremely angry or depressed. It was evident he never thought he would be a single parent, as his parenting style was based mostly on anger and being hypervigilant. However, this did provide some hilarious stories for my brothers and I to compare as we got older. One being that, he used to tell us not to ride our bikes to close to the banks of the river because a monster would pull us in and every single time we left the house he told us to not do anything stupid. I stopped blaming him for the disproportional anger and unhappiness, which I attribute to the time we spent together at the river.
When we arrived there, it took my dad about thirty minutes to get the place in livable condition (he mowed the grass, turned on the hot water, checked for spiders ..etc). It took me no time, since there was no internet, no cell service, and the closest town was a hour away. The cottage was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by many miles of corn fields (I doubt I could even find it now), and we had no neighbors. Cornfields were directly in front of the house and the river flowed in the back. This is where I learned how to respect nature, dock and drive a boat, and fish. We would spend our time leisurely hanging about and the music was always on. The isolated river was the only place for me to pretend. I spent hours in my own imagination: playing like I had befriended a bear, was at the battle of Tippecanoe, or queen of the river. A few years ago, my dad recounted to me of how one night, I was rushing in and out of the cabin while he continuously asked me what I was doing. I would run by him saying "nothing" over and over. Finally, I stopped and he came into my room to find me laying in bed, with my hands behind my head and the light off. I had filled the room with glowing fireflies. It was easy to be a child with him at the cottage because of how happy he was. Indiana isint worth much but watching the sunsets with my dad over the fields are unforgettable. The weekends spent there always felt short and I was usually in a sad panic when we left. My dad almost never missed work and spent three days out of the week working over time, so the hope of an extra day there just didn't exist. I dreaded heading back to Highland because I knew that our happiness would stay with the fireflies.
It was difficult growing up with him and trying desperately to see him happy. As I got older, I tried to focus on the good things he instilled, instead of his depression. For all he had been through, he never drank, beat us, and it was obvious that he loved us very much. My dad saved a house that started on fire from blowing up and on hot summer days would leave the mail men water. The first accident I got into was when I was sixteen. Whenever I left the house he told me to not let anything happen to the car, which I really took seriously! This is because he never called me about how 'trips to Best Buy' with my friends took all night. A guy hit me from behind and I hit the car in front of me. The man of the family I hit was a pissed army vet and screamed at the guy who bumped into me. We all waited for the police to show up and chatted while ignoring the guy who caused the accident. I'll never forget that when my dad showed up, he moved passed us all to talk to that guy we were ignoring. Later on he told me that, the guy who hit me was an ambulance driver, who was working a 12 hour shift and we wouldn't be calling insurance. Another gem that I found out while driving with him to the river was a story about what he did for my mom. My mom, Nancy, was from Pennsylvania and didnt have much money after moving to Indiana by herself. She moved into a cheap apartment and walked thirty minutes (regardless of the weather) to the train stop to work in Chicago. When she was visiting her mother in Pennsylvania, my dad surprised her by replacing all of her old furniture with brand new sets. This being the most romantic thing I've ever heard him do. However, the best thing about him was his somewhat sarcastic sense of humor. He could actually laugh at himself and didn't get mad at me for being a smart ass. Some of my favorite moments were seeing him crack a smile while screaming, because he knew that I got him good. This was probably because he would take the opportunity to roast my brothers and I just as hard. One of my favorite jokes he made at someones expense was when my brother was looking for a job. My brother told my dad that this company he was applying to would pay for his relocation, and my father's unexpected response was, "oh yeah - you would be a cheap ass relocation, all they would need to pay for is an uber and a garbage bag." It was like the Def Comedy Jam in our house and I'm forever grateful to be able to laugh myself through tough situations. He wont ever know he taught me, but being able to look for the best in someone is a precious lesson I learned by loving him.
My dad sold the cottage about five years ago and after his retirement. I was sad to see it go and I miss it now more than ever. I try not to take anything for granted, but I wish I had a warning that I would never see him smile so carefree again. I wish I could have another chance to spend a two hour car ride talking to him about life while listening to music. Its true that the only thing constant in life is change. The river isint the same as much as him and I aren't the same people now as we were then. From a young age, I had always hoped that one day my dad would allow himself to experience some sort of happiness in life - he never did. For him and for me, I'll do my best to enjoy moments for what they are now and for as much as what they wont be someday.

http://ossasepia.com/2018/12/24/a-week-in-tmsr-10-16-december-2018/#fn5-4941 <--- Notable words for later.

Twas' the day before Christmas when all of the ticos were inside the house. Not a creature was driving, not even an uber eats louse...

So, the harem agreed on a trip to walk around the Escazu mall, as we finally got a break from the endless car and foot traffic. Can you believe that its been a struggle to find somewhere walkable in this country? The sidewalks are cracked to hell, the bridges out, and the smell of garbage is thick in the air. The traffic is so unbearable that you wont get a mile in thirty minutes. Its been so bad that we have resorted to almost only going out out during the night on weekdays. Most places in the area are also either banned or coming close to it. That being said, the Escazu mall is not yet banned and the shops were closed early for Christmas. It was a pleasant night because we were all of ten people out walking.

Out of the ten people, two were pretty girls wearing short holiday dresses and 7 inch stiletto heels. It's rare to see any girls dressed like this in Costa Rica. If the women are dressed in dresses, they are usually cheap and combined with mismatched shoes. We all know that the states lack a lot, but the illusion of money creates a type of girl that can bimbofy herself when necessary. The aforementioned girls had their faces in their phones - not talking to each other and were positioned on the cement stairs outside of a clothing store. Seeing them sprawled out on the steps and definitely texting about nothing, really made me miss the familiarity of a night out in Chicago.¹ These types of nights don't exist anymore and my trance of fantasizing about real night life was broken when I heard the dreaded words of, "go tell those girls' they have nice heels."² When I get an order with immediate action something in my brain turns off and I'm walking without any sort of plan. I deviate from Master and quickly walk over to the girls, I ask them if they speak English and they do! So, I tell them I like their heels and they look cute. They both exclaim "thank you" in the same high tone as me and they inform me that they are dressed for a party. The final exchange is an easy merry Christmas and goodbye. I felt pretty great when I returned to report on the transaction. I had thought this display counted for a completed order. This illusion was short lived when I was received with an unhappy tone and demand for explanation of why I had returned with nothing. I had no numbers, no invitation to whatever party they were going to, and worse, no attempt was made to try for anything other than the minimum of what was ordered of me. This displeasure was hard for me to accept, I did the thing that was ordered - why was I getting a lecture?! My pride ensured that I had ample excuses for why I thought what I did was correct, and a butthurt me spent the next hour complaining and explaining.

The first excuse that I tried was that, the girls wouldn't have any interest in me. Its true that I was self conscious in my short cheap dress and that I don't have much confidence to go on now as I did in the past. Had I been actually thinking and not coming up with excuses then, I would have applied one of the most prominent lessons from Master and wrongly assumed that they would have any idea about what they want. Its an easy first thought and often used by many on #trilema; however, any time with Mircea Popescu will reinforce that, in fact people don't know what they want unless you tell them and especially twenty something girls. Which brings me to excuse number two... I made the mistake of pleading that this isint the correct way to met people. This defense is constantly on display from idiots on fetlife who missed their chance by imagining that they are entitled to anything³, while also having some neatly place boundaries. Being compared to the masses on fetlife hurts the most. I've always hated that website and the people on it. Even with the scant days here, I thought I had out run the association with fetlife. Agreed, that I'm not smart enough to keep up on #trilema, but its a sad truth to be in the same basket as fetlife weirdos. Hearing that I had given a standard fetlife response was a harsh reminder that in fact, creating some made up illusions has never produced anything for anyone. For my third and final accusation, I proclaimed that I was only sent to speak to them for potential possible fucks. At the very least this is an illogical argument to invalidate the order that was given⁴. At the very most it's ignorant for me to imply that their is something wrong with wanting things. This is especially true when Master wants something, regardless of whatever it may be. I attacked Master with nonsense, and this while knowing I wouldn't get an inch but still trying. Needless to say, I was immediately crushed for spewing meaningless words and for attempting to argue with him. He was characteristically right about my excuses and the length it would take for my slow brain to realize the details of why I was incorrect⁵. Luckily for me and for you, lessons always come full circle. Did you take note of the footnote from earlier? You should and I wont forget - the only people worth associating with are the ones who can understand that very art. Being authentic now includes vetting through people who wont understand that they don't actually have a choice when in front of something great.

It's also worth mentioning that Santa would be jealous of how festive and fun a harem Christmas is run. Christmas Eve started with a relaxing trip to the pond to see everyones favorite duck, Chimichurri⁶. Master kept a close eye on the home made eggnog, while Hannah and I hung the lights so bright and derpy. My lifelong desire of being tied up was finally achieved⁷, which also included me struggling to free myself while being beat with two objects at once (spoiler: pleading with someone while tied up does not do much of anything). An assortment of food was made and enjoyed, but most importantly - fudge from the country with best chocolate in the world. To my surprise, even slaves get to decorate Christmas cookies (although what are elves, ya know?) and to finish it off we took a three hour hike on Christmas day. I've never been so happy to not have a holiday canceled.

<sup>1. Their is something ritualistic about pre-gaming with your friends while doing hair and make up in order to stay out until sunrise. These nights usually ended with someone throwing up and us passed out for a few hours to recover for boozy brunch. Historically, girls turn on this certain charm when they want to be friends with one another. You simply smile a lot, make sure your voice goes higher, and tell the other girl how pretty she is in some kinda way. It seems superficial but for party girls, nothing works better. If the new friendship works out, then you will have a new escort to the restroom, a party location hook up, and another person to get you on the list.↩
2. I'm often ordered to talk to attractive girls, without question or reason.↩
3. Yes, things have indeed changed.↩
4. mircea_popescu: anyway, re invalidate : if A says X, and you say "A only says X because z reason to do with A" you are saying "A's saying X is no grounds for X to be considered"
mircea_popescu: this is attacking A.↩
5. Let the record show that, it took 2 days for me to realize how wrong I was.↩
6. Its true that Chimichurri is indeed cooler than most people.↩
7.If you can laugh at it, you can live with it.↩</sup>

Lately, I've had some interesting encounters with people knowing my status and wanting to own me in various ways. I received an email from the first person I loved and who consequently also posed as being into bdsm (and by 'into bdsm', I mean the fetlife version of bdsm). My memories of him grow less fond over time.

When I was sixteen I fell in love with a man who was fourteen years older than me and was someone who I thought would be considered dominant. At first avik¹ and I spoke online for a few months and then it progressed to him flying from Atlanta to Chicago to visit me. My friends covered as excuses for my parents, while I would take the airport buss for an hour to met him at various hotels surrounding O'Hare. The buss was about 20 blocks from where my childhood home was. I would mostly get rides to the station from my friends who knew what I was doing - other times it was a real bitch to walk through the Midwest snow with suitcases. Whenever I think back to those times, I am always amazed and appreciative that my friends could keep that secret for me. I grew up in a tiny town in Indiana² that was mainly protestant and I don't want to imagine the scandal this secret relationship would have caused me to deal with. No one in school or my parents ever found out that I was seeing Avik and those friends and I remain close to this day. Avik and I spent the weekends having sex and eating at various restaurants downtown. One of my favorite memories was eating at Gaylords. It has the best Indian food in the city, a name that would make any sixteen year old laugh, but also as a teenager I thought it was cool to have eaten at the same restaurant as Obama (I seriously doubted any other Indiana high schooler could say that they had eaten at the same restaurant as the current president). Every two months Avik would fly to see me until I turned seventeen. When I turned seventeen I started flying to his house in Atlanta every four months. The off two months, he would still see me at different hotels. We spent my seventeenth birthday at the first hotel suite I've ever been in downtown - I spent most of that birthday on my knees but could still see the Navy Pier fireworks. Avik had another sub, Ashley, who lived with him in Atlanta and I got to know and care for her very much. Traveling to Chicago and Atlanta, I was having what I thought was the time of my life. Since we were doing long distance and I was in high school, I never really got to see the dominant side of him, it was mostly just fantasizes incorporated to our plans for the future. At the most I was lectured about having good grades and making a future career a priority. Career and institutional education were the most important things to him, as he came from a background of getting a perfect on his SATs and attending graduate school at Duke. We had plans for me to move to Atlanta and I would take a year off of school so that I could get instate tuition at Georgia State. Avik constantly whined to me about the serious issues between him and Ashley. I thought she was just having a hard time with his high (what I thought was) standards of getting a Georgia Tech bio chemistry degree and being his submissive.

Finally graduation came for me and it was time to move. I had a great lie crafted so my family didn't ask many questions. However, this was the first time I hesitated and wasn't so sure about moving to Atlanta. I told him it would be a few weeks until I could move, which turned into a few months. After much pushing on his part and confusion on mine, I finally packed up and moved to Atlanta. My dad and brothers were heartbroken. I don't think they thought that I would go through with the move and when I did, I knew I would never be home with them for good again.

The first few months in Atlanta were great. Ashley graduated from college with honors and continued her job as a software tester. Things started to get a little dubious when Avik started a new job as a data scientist. His anger became explosive over the smallest things: tv cords not being arranged the correct way, money, politics, and work...etc. This anger turned into yelling which would last for hours and his words didn't produce anything productive. Avik and Ashley were arguing a lot before she got put on various psych meds (xanax and ambien). Which was something he also proposed for me and then insistently talked about when I refused. No real bdsm ever occurred. I missed out on being tied up, getting beat, and serving someone. More than that, it was just fucking boring. I longed for the exciting days at the hotels. When I expressed my boredom, I was met with yelling about me possibly saying anything of the sort and then eventually a dog. I thought taking care of one would help take up the time before school began. Unsurprisingly to anyone besides a teenager, the dog didn't help and I adamantly started talking about leaving. No one took me seriously and after almost a full year of being yelled at for hours and for nothing, I again packed up my things and moved back to Indiana.

In a few months the fall semester was starting at Purdue and I had a shoddy plan of getting a job and moving into the dorms. By this point, I was depressed and confused. Avik and I were still in touch and he was constantly berating me for leaving, most of this consisted of how I would never amount to anything or get out of Indiana (my biggest fear was being stuck in Indiana or the state that wants to be Iowa). After school started, we barely spoke as I was tired of being online, realized I desired something more out of life, and altogether tired of the toxic relationship. I explained to him that I probably wasn't submissive and this isint something I wanted to pursue and he cried, a lot. We went months without speaking and then someone would contact the other. Brief plans would be made for travel and I would always back out.

Fast forward to after graduation and me moving to Chicago. I finally got a decent HR job and our company had a plant near his house. When I saw the location I started messaging him again. The company needed an HR rep to visit the site and I volunteered with plans to stay the weekend at his place. Two other girls³ had moved in so my plan was to just visit as friends. The first night I stayed at the hotel and all was fine when he and I just had dinner. Things took a dramatic turn when he wanted to become sexual. My lack of interest in him wasn't well received, so the rest of the night was spent with me fighting him off (mostly kicking) and me locking myself in the bathroom. In the morning the travel company changed my flight for the best 200 the company ever spent and I returned home. My message to him of being done (and also the kicks) didn't take because I received a hilarious email the other day:

Look , people who are witty and "fun" and entertaining and cool and hipster but put out articles on the internet about you being their unicorn , replete with pictures , are NOT people with your long term best interests at heart
http://trilema.com/2018/do-you-know-what-an-unicorn-is/ this is not a good life choice . you have 277 connections on linkedin. you don't advertise that you're a unicorn with a famous fetlife troll ( yes he's famous for trolling fetlife and making women on there feel upset and harassed - I only know cause people told me ) on linked in . These are poor choices and i am worried for you . Perhaps if you ever check any of this , and need to discuss someday , i will be there .

I wont breakdown how delusional this email is, but I feel fortunate for having the realizations that I did at eighteen. I'm sure it sucks for him to realize that I wouldn't drive eight hours or claim him "publicly", but updating my linkedin position and moving to another country has been a pleasure.

<sup>1. For more hilarity, see his fetlife here↩
2. a fun little place called Highland↩
3. Two other girls also on psych meds↩</sup>

Ever since I left the US and somewhat "publicly" announced my slavery, almost every male in my life has taken on a hero complex (all the males being at least five years older and not even necessarily in my life). Unsurprisingly to me, the women I know felt nothing other than happiness - despite not having an understanding of bdsm and being indoctrinated in #metoo.
Slavery separates the women from the girls but what separates the men from the boys?

I'll start the study with my brothers, who found out about my new life through the ol' family chain of gossip. I was the last child by five years and most days my dad worked over time, so naturally I got my ass beat by them quite a bit and nothing was off limits when making fun of one another. Apparently, sometime between childhood and now my brothers, developed feelings based on fear and (literally) cried to my dad about my present state. If I were going to talk about feelings, this one hurts the most. I expected more from them in every way.

Moving on to my ex-boyfriend finding out about the biggest news in the Midwest. He took a much classier route by begging me to still be with him and proclaiming his acceptance of whatever time he could get with me. When I rejected his request, he questioned me about him "not being dominant enough" and then stole my purse. His final ploy was to tell me that I had been abducted and then threatened to tell my dad to save me. I don't need to add any commentary to this story. The layers of idiocy builds upon themselves and I'm embarrassed that I was there.

You may have read this story before, but my dad tried to save me by kidnapping me?! To his credit, he took a very hard ass albeit dumb approach. I'm sure he plotted with my family about how he would rescue me from the clutches of an evil cult master by trying to trick me himself. Regardless of slavery, this chain of events was bound to happen, since he was already traumatized at the thought of me moving to another country. My dad lived in the same area of Indiana his whole life with his furthest venture being Florida. He was always offended when I talked shit about Indiana/Midwest/US. I'm still not sure how he was shocked at me wanting to move, he knew me so well you'd think he raised me. Oh and he also got away with my replacement purse.

And then a few days ago I received emails from this guy I used to see, with the subject titled: really really really worried and this is in spite of me not being interested or talking to him in years. To quote him "I know you said you were done but.." he still emailed me twice, sent me a message on linkedin, and a private message. Apparently, he saw my linkedin and couldn't fight the urge to tell me how my life should go. Hey, whatever makes people feel better about themselves - dosent mean I still wont post the email:

Look , people who are witty and "fun" and entertaining and cool and hipster but put out articles on the internet about you being their unicorn , replete with pictures , are NOT people with your long term best interests at heart http://trilema.com/2018/do-you-know-what-an-unicorn-is this is not a good life choice . you have 277 connections on linked in. you don't advertise that you're a unicorn with a famous fetlife troll ( yes he's famous for trolling fetlife and making women on there feel upset and harassed - I only know cause people told me ) on linked in . These are poor choices and i am worried for you . Perhaps if you ever check any of this , and need to discuss someday , i will be there.

Unlike boys, I can refrain from responding instantly (or at all) and post my thoughts here instead:

Look , people who are witty and "fun" and entertaining and cool and hipster but put out articles on the internet about you being their unicorn , replete with pictures << Years later he is still hurt and hasn't moved on from me explaining that I was bored with him. I am really interested in how a lot of the "insults" MP gets start with a compliment, because who wouldn't want to be with someone who is witty, fun, entertaining and cool (all factual)? I'm not sure the hipster comment counts unless you brew craft beer and wear ironic socks, but I believe reddit to be the final judge on these types of matters. Now if only he saw my unicorn hat...

this is not a good life choice . you have 277 connections on linked in. you don't advertise that you're a unicorn with a famous fetlife troll ( yes he's famous for trolling fetlife and making women on there feel upset and harassed - I only know cause people told me ) on linked in << Jesus, his obsession with grabbing his ankles for magical linkedin - changing my employment status was one of the coolest things ive done and with zero negative effects. Did anyone know MP trolled idiots on fetlife?! Yes, yes he does! Kind of odd for someone to have an accusation of harassment when they send me four messages in a day. He's also not seeing the irony of giving me unsolicited advice after making the fetlife claim. Seriously though, its nice to no longer live in a world supported by nothing but illusions. I get that it is much easier to demonize the person pointing out flaws than to participate in any self-reflection. Just close your eyes, pretend its all a bad dream, and continue posting to instagram and snatchchat. I really enjoy when I hear the claim of "people told me". Whenever people say this - demand they give you the names. They wont have names because its a unsubstantiated claim used to support an idea of one pathetic person.

These are poor choices and i am worried for you . Perhaps if you ever check any of this , and need to discuss someday, i will be there . <<< I suppose him trying to help the victim of a famous fetlife troll is the most interesting thing that has ever happened to him. Only boys will make themselves feel needed by talking about feelings instead of actually being useful. It must feel good to worry about something that you wouldnt want to put any thought into.

I'm surrounded by intelligent people, so this has been an entertaining scant few months. I'm also annoyed of males (im no expert in gender pronouns but boys/girls and men/women should be the only ones regulated) who lack the ability to¹. It's not attractive (not just to me but to any women) or useful to never grow up and take the threatened easy route at every corner. If anyone asks (which none of them did), i have a very happy life as a slave and serving my Master.

"hi, let's try footnotes"¹

^{1. [footnote 1]↩}

1. think and behave as men [↩]

Waking up in a strange place - I don't recognize the room, I don't recognize myself. Why do I do this? Where am I? The same choices made over and over again. The next few moments matter as little as the last 25 years do. Just stop, stop opening doors and looking under rugs, only to accumulate nothing. Some people have it, and you can look at them and know you wont. Is life my penance and searching, my purgatory? Did she trade one life for two? What's the value on one life of misery? How long until you find out or give up? I stopped speaking and went to sleep. I only get to the end in order to restart. How can they all be the same? Intelligence, sadness, manipulative, happy - they all look the same. Why be so terrible to someone who loves you? Will they regret it? Will I become them? Is this emptiness a path to feeling like the rest? Do feelings separate me? Am I weak, is that why I make these choices? These feelings were supposed to go away. Do they think about any of this? Does it matter if they do? No, it doesn't.

I saw the last inning first and decided not to play. Not anymore, I’m showing up, and I know how it all ends.

I may be the only person with a blog who hates blogging. Most of my time writing is spent second guessing every word and cringing when reading the post after its published. Supposedly, people get better at things, but I somehow doubt this applies to writing and me. That being said, feel free to enjoy a rewrite of a boring and poorly written post. The transition from this paragraph to the next is, that you will probably not see anything you like nor any improvement.

I recently returned to Costa Rica after having spent five days in Chicago. I returned to see my best friend get married, which was a great time. A few days into the trip it snowed, something you wont see in Costa Rica. Since returning, I've spent four days sick, the math checks out.

As previously mentioned, the first few days were spent with a nervous bride who had not yet written her vows. I was not much of a calming presence due to my own anxiety about bitcoin and soap. We each completed the respective tasks and had a great time at the wedding. By wedding, in this case I mean, a large dinner party at a restaurant. I still had a great time, laughing at everything like usual. I returned to her place alone, so that the newlyweds could start their honey moon. I offered to come but they thought the camera crew may be a little much.

It wasn't just soap and bitcoin that had me nervous. I was also on a scouting mission for specific sex toys. I met my two friends for boozy brunch and enlisted their help to find the right toys. We drank pitchers of bottomless mimosas and continued on. I had a win at the sex shop and left with a bag full of dildos and buttplugs. We walked back to my friend's car while they grilled me on my digitel phone and notebook full of maps. They were pretty confused about how I was surviving without a smart phone and much longer could I live like this. I didn't tell them about the multiple dreams I've had concerning trying to find my lost phone. The excitement continued when we discovered that kiara's car had been towed. Our other friend bailed out and left me to handle the panic of kiara now having to spend an unaccounted for $250. I can relate, though, thats a lot of money when you're just starting out and living in the city. We handled our business and headed back to kiara's place. Eventually, the rest of our friends met us there. We had a few hours to kill before karaoke. This time was spent with me begging everyone to get off of their phones. When I finally convinced them, they all stared at each other and said nothing. Not really what I had in mind. I called it off and the universe won when I begged them to get back on their phones. An uber was called and the five us piled into a two door sedan for karaoke.

Everyone at the bar was killing it at singing and having a great time. We even
invited the 60+ trucker man (Al) to our table but soon had to bounce him when he started touching. After Stacy's Mom ended, I started the dramatic goodbyes. It always hard for me to leave people without knowing if ill ever see them again. What makes it even harder is that I wont find these types of nights in Costa Rica. I don't think its been mentioned, but there is no 'going out' here because there is nowhere to go. Even if you do happen to find a group of people, they cant keep their shit together and the entire generation of family are out too.

I had a great time with everyone and was able to navigate the city without a phone. The surrealism of comparing my previous life to this new one hasn't yet worn off. At least, I'll always have terrible blog posts to reflect back on.

I recently returned to Costa Rica, after having spent some scant days at a wedding in Chicago. I had an overall great time. A few days into the trip it snowed, something you wont see in Costa Rica. I spent three days with the bride, my best friend of seven years. A few months back, I helped to plan her ring and engagement. The wedding was supposed to be a surprise; however, every time I brought up a wedding, she ranted about how much weddings are a waste of time and money. After weeks of me prying her for information, I tipsily told her, shes getting married and she has to please give me something I can work with. Oddly enough, most still cant believe I kept the secret.

Another thing you wont see with the company I keep in Costa Rica are smart phones. I spent the rest of the trip with my college friends. To their credit , they did a lot better than I thought they would with adjusting to my new lifestyle. Sure, they snatchchated my digtiel phone and notebook (including hand drawn maps) and said, "OMG nicole" about a 100 times, but they were exactly where they said they would be. We had a great gossipy boozy brunch. Next, we went to the sex shop so that I could relax by completing the tasks at hand. They helped pick out various toys and we headed to my friends car. I was feeling pretty good about the day, until we realized her car had been towed. Here I am, swinging a bag of dildos and butt plugs while she calls the tow company in tears. Our other friend, hoped in an uber and left without me... The next few hours were filled with drama and me attempting to console. Chicago though, they'll tow and ticket anything and everything. Everyone eventually ended up back at her place and on their phones. After a few minutes of begging, I got everyone off the phones to engage in no actual conversation but people staring at each other. I had to call it off and apologize for the suggestion. We left for karaoke soon after. Everyone at the bar was killing it and having a great time. We even invited the 60+ trucker man (Al) to our table but soon had to say goodbye when he started touching. The night was short, as I had a plane to catch in the morning and goodbyes are never easy.

I could not wait to get back to Costa Rica and to actual life, as opposed to living it through a screen and without thought. Nothing beats the feeling of seeing your Master and a certain Someone at the airport. I could and will go on about how living your life in anticipation and without knowledge of what comes next is as remarkable as it gets. To my delight, the next day was the "last big day" and I had barely any idea of what that would entail.

Certain things through training I do know though, like always have a joke ready.
Luckily for me, I received a warning that a beating was forthcoming, unless I could produce. So, I have been re upping the ol joke book, and…

Its not a polished act yet, and even though I strive past the pressure to perform in the back of the bmw - sometimes the lack of delivery is funnier than the actual joke. For example:

me: how did noah keep track of his animals?
Master: how?
me: with an ark hive.
Master: lol, that would have been better if it were, how did he keep track of the bees.
me: oh fuck, you’re right - it was bees…….....this still counts, please?!

The record is showing that it counts. The following day was one of my favorites in Costa Rica. The botanical garden is too beautiful to put into words and im not old enough for a camera yet. Every step has some exotic plant that makes up for all of San Jose. Enjoying it naked was even better. I'm sick with a cold now, so I do regret defiling the Japense zen garden. The countryside into the volcano is something out of a book. Even the annual turning around of the final trip was great, great to be home.

This post is dedicated to my hero - Don Rickles, the Community Fuck.

Bonus joke: Why do ghosts love vegetables? Because they are supernatural. Enjoy.

During my packing for relocating to Costa Rica, I found this gem - a winning essay contest submission that I wrote in fifth grade.

What a Good Citizen Means to Me.

My idea of a good citizen is not someone who is perfect or is everyone’s role-model, but my idea of a good citizen is someone who gives back to the community. They don’t have to donate thousands of dollars to charity or large amounts of money. Students can be good citizens too. You could try to help other students in class who are struggling. In the neighborhood students or anyone can help the elderly by shoveling, raking, mowing their grass, watering their flowers, or even just visiting and talking to them. That’s giving a lot back to the community even though it doesn't seem like it is. Throwing trash in the garbage is a big help to the whole world. Being a good citizen can be anyone. The little things count a lot. Everyone can be a good citizen young or old.

Can you believe this piece (of shit) won for the whole county? Indiana, though you know… 103 words for a 100 word contest. I murdered the 11 year old competition. Apparently, I had a fixation on yard work. Please, Costa Rica, use the trash bins; I’ve always felt strongly about that.