Depression and Why I Show My Boobs

woman crying depressed

I feel empty. I feel like I’m suffocating. I don’t know if I’m going to make it through this time. I’ve been depressed for so long it’s like a continual numbness. I’m tired.

I’ve become more distant from my close friends. Sometimes it feels like they don’t understand why I’m doing this. They think I’m doing something wrong by talking about sex and showing my boobs or whatever. Most people don’t like that I’m showing my boobs.

Well ‘most people’, they’re my boobs and I can show them if I want.

I don’t have to justify it, but here are some justifications anyway.

People are too uptight about the naked body and I’m rebelling against that.

It like to do it.

Other people enjoy looking at my boobs so why should I always keep them covered if I can give people who want to see them pleasure? Of course, this is America and we live in a capitalistic society so I’m not just going to give them away for free. I have to pay rent, people.

Speaking of rent. This is where I’m most upset with myself. I’m actually a really hard worker. I spent the past year writing a book and a satirical self-help video series and developing this blog while doing freelance marketing. The freelance has run dry and the other things are still incubating from an income-perspective. I have applied to jobs but my heart isn’t it in. My heart is here in these creative projects.

That’s the original reason why I started the Patreon account. It turns out that people only really care about seeing my boobs, which in a way is easier but not really because it would be nice if people wanted to see my boobs AND support my creative endeavors but I suppose we can’t always get everything we want huh?

Sidenote.

I’ve had a lot of people reach out to me on Instagram while I was writing this. I realize that we’re all a mess to some degree or another and you all are brave for getting up and getting out there. I really respect your strength and wish I had a bit more of it. Of course, tomorrow is another day and perhaps I’ll be a go-getting show-stopping money magnet then.

And I’ll be able to lift others who are feeling down. We’re like one big team here on planet Earth. Or maybe the suffocation will continue. Who knows?!

Feel free to check out my patreon for the boobs or whatever.

How to Take Action When You Fuck Up a Relationship

how to fix a relationship that you broke

Aka Get Off Your Phone and Get to Work

or

At Least Do Something if You Care At All

Most people don’t want to do the work that it takes to be in any kind of romantic relationship.

I mean, I get it, why have a deep connection with someone who cares about you, thinks you’re the whole world, would do anything for you (but not that), when you can just go out and have sex?

Oh wait.

Yeeaaahhh. Casual sex is fun and all but it’s got nothing on love.

L. O. V. E.

Wtf is that anyway?

There was that Chris Rock stand-up where he explained it pretty well. Aka “If you haven’t contemplated murder, you ain’t been in love.”

Now, perhaps that’s taking it too far, but I don’t know. It was in the moment after we had been fighting (well, after he kissed my roommate and tried to sleep with her when I was in the other room and then lied about it) when I walked through my kitchen, saw a knife sitting on the counter and paused for a second too long when I realized, “oh fuck, I might actually have fallen for that guy!”

Yet, then he really fucked it all up.

A series of texts transpired after which were full of apology etc. Now I’m a patient person. I can tolerate a lot of pain. I can even forgive a person for being a total and complete piece of shit, which is something I should maybe try unlearning. But here’s the thing. Actions must be taken.

If you fuck up a relationship by being a liar, a manipulator, a cheat etc. and you want that person back. Good fucking luck. You’re going to have to work your ass off. You’re going to have to make sacrifices to the goddesses. You’re going to have to quit being a lazy ass good-for-nothing mother fucker and do something.

This is the most important component that I think a lot of people who fuck up relationships miss.

You must shut your mouth, your words mean nothing at this point because your previous actions proved you otherwise untrustworthy.

You can no longer rely on a text apology. That’s not good enough. You must overcome your own ego and DO SOMETHING.

SOMETHING > NOTHING
ACTION > WORDS

This where things get confusing to a lot of people. They know that must take action but they have NO IDEA what kind of action to take.

Use your brains here. Get creative. The point is rebuilding. It’s like, not only did you tear your entire building down, but in the process, you created a major fucking hole too. Now you have to fill in the hole (and not with your dick…) AND build an entirely new building, that’s taller and shiner and all that shit.

Most people can’t do this. Either they didn’t really love that person that much or they’re lazy or both. We’re quite the throw-away society, not only do we have no respect for things anymore, now people are things and are thrown away all the same. We can do better. We can be more interesting than that.

If you’re struggling with figuring out some sort of action to take after you took some negative actions that made your relationship fail, don’t worry. I’ve made a list as a starting point to help you. Of course, this is mostly just stuff that I’d want, I don’t know who you fucked over or what they’re into, but perhaps this list can help spark your imagination and get you on that first step back into their good graces.

tantus cock rings
Make your carrot vibrate maybe?! Nah, prob something better than that.

Here Are 12 Ways to Do Something That Could At Least Help You Maybe One Day Get Back What You Fucked Up

1.
Say Anything style and stand outside their bedroom window blasting your song on a boombox (I’d suggest not the song he blasts because that song is kind of lame).

2.
Write “I’m sorry” in their yard using a bunch of burritos or bacon or whatever food they love.

3.
Write and mail them a love note every day. Every. Day.

4.
Try flowers, nothing says romance like something that is so beautiful it will die in three days.

5.
Try flowers again three days later because the other flowers are dead now and you don’t want them to think of your relationship that way.

6.
Bottle up your tears and then let the other person make a nice clean (or dirty) martini from them.

7.
Write and record them a song.

8.
Send them a heart-shaped pizza.

9.
Start seeing a therapist and work on yourself.

10.
Buy them everything they want on their Amazon Wish List (or mine is fine with me).

11.
Write them a poem or better yet, an entire book of poems.

12.
Or if you’re terrible at poetry, write a long long LONG list of everything you love about them.

Is this helping at all? Getting some ideas? Okay cool. Maybe now quit reading this and GO DO SOMETHING about whatever it is you did. You’re welcome (and good luck).

Gifts for Brinds

Tits Out Truth Bombs Tuesday: Can A Relationship Be Repaired When Trust is Broken?

overcoming a betrayal in a relationship

Lies, Manipulation, and Love Built to Die

Or

There’s Good Reason Why So Many Of Us Have Built a Wall Around Ourselves

Recently I had my heart ripped out of my chest again. My best friend has told me on countless occasions that I trust people too easily. I know she is right, but I also have never been able to overcome this trait I have. Regardless of whether I’m making a new friend or developing a new romantic relationship, I always give people the benefit of the doubt. I trust them until they prove to otherwise be untrustworthy. This is not uncommon behavior, most of us do this. Why wouldn’t we do this? There has to be some faith in both the self and the other that the bonds that are being built are being built on solid honest ground.

And yet, it’s so interesting how quickly a good relationship can turn bad when that trust we hand over so easily shatters.

The question is, can it be repaired?

Of course, it can, we even can see examples in mainstream media every day, see Beyonce and Jay-Z, Hillary and Bill, etc.

The deeper question comes down to whether or not both parties involved really want to repair it.

Discover Fifty Shades Darker

When someone does something hurtful to someone else the person being hurt has to understand that this is not a reflection of who they are, but a question of who the other person doing the hurting is.

How good was the relationship prior to this pain? Are both of you willing to do the work to overcome it?

Of course, I can’t help but feel duped, humiliated, made to look stupid. The thought of going through those feelings again is enough to make me run far far away and never look back. It’s not that I can’t forgive him for his terrible behavior–I can. I’m questioning whether I can trust myself to give him another chance and risk going through all of those emotions again. I’m not a big fan of those emotions, who is? I think of what my friends would do, would say to me. I think of what I’d say to my friends if something similar happened to them and I know I’d tell them to tell the guy to “fuck off,” (which I actually did do, quite loudly at 5 am in the morning but that’s a digression).

I think of the future. I think, what if I forgive this guy and he does it again? Not only would I be mad at myself but I’d be embarrassed, ashamed for being so easily manipulated.

I don’t understand liars. I’ve always been way too honest, to a fault even. My lack of a filter has gotten me in trouble many many times, yet I prefer it to living any other way. Sometimes I forget how other people don’t do this. How other people so often lie to get what they want.

That’s the other thing that confuses me. Why lie to get what you want? And what benefit does it serve to lie to the person you like romantically? If you’re so comfortable with that that you’re no longer interested in being with them, why not just break it off? If you’re so bored that you want to be with someone else after a month why not just say “girl, bye?” If you want to do whatever you want and get away with it, why be in a relationship at all?

The thing is you can’t do whatever you want when you’re in relationships with other people. Not if you care about them anyway. Sometimes you have to suck it up and do the thing you don’t really want to do, whether it’s going to their company’s BBQ even though you hate all their coworkers, making breakfast even though you’re both dying of a hangover, or you know, not hitting on their roommate even if the roommate is so damn cool and fine. It’s called basic human decency. Relationships require that as a bare minimum.

So yeah, here I am, in kind of a conundrum.

There were so many good things happening and I miss that, I miss him, I miss us. Yet, I can’t be with a liar. I can’t be with someone who does whatever he wants with no regard for the other person. If he can prove that that is not who he is at his core (or his surface even). If he could actually do the work, show real remorse and take positive action to repair all this then maybe.

Yet, then again, maybe I’m too easy and need to learn how to be a bit “more hard”.

Tits Out Truth Bombs Tuesday: What’s the Link Between Sex and Violence?

sex, violence, marriage, testosterone, social media, mob violence, criminal behavior

The Correlation Between Sex and Violence

or

Why Are Men So Mean Sometimes?

Male Sex Toys 728X90

Over the past few days my manfriend and I have been binge-watching Hannibal (on amazon prime). It’s an incredibly violent television show as you may imagine since it’s based off of the books Red Dragon and Hannibal by Thomas Harris. A psychological thriller with death everywhere. So much death that in the 13+ episodes we’ve made it through there’s only been one romantic moment — a kiss — and no sex whatsoever. In any event, my friend and I got into a discussion about the correlation between violence and sex. He claimed that they were “the same thing” whereas I begged to differ.

 Watch Hannibal Today

Since that time I’ve been doing some research and I’ve come across some very interesting articles on this very subject. It turns out there’s a pretty big correlation between the two, though it is not quite right to say they are “the same thing.”

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Here are six interesting facts (theories and research developments) I’ve come across during my internet dive into this fascinating topic of sex and violence.

1. On Female Sexual Liberation

In the Psychology Today article, Why Sex and Violence Go Together, the author writes:

“young males are at the highest risk of criminal offending, and violent crime is more common in societies where female sexuality is more liberated.”

This has to do with competition for sex. From my understanding of this article, when there is a likelihood of getting some, many men will get violent in order to get it. They commit criminal acts often as a way to prove that they are stronger, more “manly” than others. Many of the crimes committed in this research were deemed “trivial altercations.” They act out to “save face,” because they believe that women don’t like to date “losers.”

Could it be possible that this rise in female sexual empowerment is causing men to revert back to baser more animalistic behavior? Or is this just another man blaming women for men’s actions instead of owning the fact that men choose to behave in these ways? And yes, I use the word “choose,” because there has to be accountability for these acts of anger and aggression or why have a higher more developed consciousness at all?

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2. Sex, Marriage, and Violence

From the same article:

When men get married their testosterone level drops and so to do incidents of their violent behavior. Also interestingly enough:

“When men divorce, and begin dating again, their testosterone level rises compared to men remaining married.”

And thus, the divorced men become more aggressive and violent.

Does the testosterone level drop in marriage because they have secured a partner and can relax? Or does it drop because of their closer proximity to estrogen? Perhaps a mixture of both? It’s apparent that it rises again after divorce due to the fact that they have to go back out in the field and compete for a mate. Is the aggression because of the testosterone or because they’re angry about their divorce… or both?

Gifts for Brinds

3. Sex, Violence and Video Games

A study revealed that women are actually more affected sexually by video games than men. At first the article made it seem like the woman were aroused by the violent video games themselves but after a closer reading it seems like the games actually give women a confidence boost and make them think they are a “better catch,” than the women in the study who did not play the games. You can read all about it in the Bustle article, Violence Makes You Feel Sexy.

4. Social Media, Sex, and Violence

In the same Bustle article researchers found that people who tweet are actually more aroused than those who don’t.

“A 2011 survey by OKCupid found that their tweeting members masturbated more. Apparently those who tweeted twice a day or more also masturbated twice as much as those who didn’t try to get all witty with only 140 characters.”

How is this related to violence? The article didn’t claim that it was, but I’m curious if people are getting angry at everything happening in the world and then choosing to turn the Twitter off and watch some porn instead to release some of that pent up aggression.

5. Your Brain on Sex and Violence

From Psychology Today:

“Both aggression and sex are controlled by neurons in the same part of the brain–the hypothalamic attack region. When researchers stimulate these neurons with electrodes in the brains of mice, the animals instantly engage in violence or in mating, depending on how strongly the neurons are stimulated.”

According to the article, researchers were able to control the intensity of stimulation of these neurons and thus were able to switch the animals behavior between mating and fighting depending on the level of intensity.

This is pretty nuts when you think about how close to proximity they are and how easy one can turn into the other. Is there a way to control this outside of a lab? Will there ever be a way? If so, could this actually help ease violence in humans if we took away the ability to over-stimulate these neurons? I do not know, I am not a scientist, but it is interesting to consider.

Motorhead - the Official Pleasure Collection

6. Violence and Sex in Crowds

According to the same article from Psychology Today:

“ The chaos of large crowds increase the risk of sexual assault on women….”

The over-stimulation of the senses and the heightened stress of being at places like concerts, subways, mass celebrations, etc. triggers mob violence.

“Mob behavior is driven by the strong herding instinct of people to do as they see others do when there is no central authority in control. At the opposite extreme, this same powerful herding instinct can cause bystander apathy in which no one in a crowd comes to the aid of a person in need.”

The article goes on to list way too many examples of women being sexually assaulted and raped at these overpopulated events. I often thought there were always less women at concerts etc. because of the difference in economic security, but perhaps many women instinctively feel it’s safer to stay away. I mean I get it, being in a large crowd can make anyone feel stressed, irritated, angry, but turning to violent behavior like this is primitive and unacceptable. If you’re the type of person who cannot control your own emotions and/or keep it in your pants, perhaps you’re the one who shouldn’t go out in public?

So, even though there is a ton of different research that happens to offer a connection between the two and even though rough sex can even be fun, sex and violence are not the same thing, not matter how much Hannibal wants to convince you otherwise, fucking freak.

P.S. I’ll be analyzing BDSM and the attraction many of us have to it soon, so stay tuned and it is quite relatable!

Thanks for reading.

Coolest Memory Foam Mattress

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Hope, Fear, Depression, Pleasure: Thoughts on Anthony Bourdain and Suicide

bourdain, depression, suicide

On Depression and Pleasure

or

Fuck This Shit

I, like everyone else, woke up this Friday morning to the news that Anthony Bourdain has committed suicide.

And course, there was Kate Spade just a couple of days ago who did the same.

I’m not sure if anyone else is feeling not only heartbreak but fear. Fear that no matter what you do, what you have, what you’ve gained, what you’ve lost. No matter how good it seems for a moment–the demons will always come back. The demons will always win.

All of these beautiful creatures who walk the earth broken, fragile, scraping by every day just trying to connect to something other than pain. Other than the heavy blanket of suffocating grayness that covers so many of us and keeps us alive, but barely. Every once in awhile lifting up, lungs filling with love and light–and then abruptly reappearing right when we think we’ve made it through, right when we forget that we ever had felt that way before. The cruelest joke in the world. Played over and over on so many souls.

This is so hard I think because we saw someone we could truly relate to in Bourdain. Flawed. Yet, able to rise above those flaws and do something.

Something.

Which is often the hardest thing to do at all when you’re being smothered by the thoughts that none of it matters. That it’s all a waste.

Is it?

I’ve often thought so.

Yet, there has always been that slight glimmer; often very very far away, yet, because I’m lucky or tortured I’ve held onto that hope. Hope that the demons will leave me the fuck alone for a day. Hope that at some point I can be strong enough that if they do come back I can drop kick their asses and they will go away only to never return.

There’s that hope.

But there’s also that fear. The knowing that they will return no matter what. And that maybe one day there will be no fight left.

The thing that I relate to so strongly with Bourdain– is that when all else fails, the road to pleasures opens.

Here’s what I mean.

When I gave up entirely. When I wanted to die and felt like I had nothing left. I let it all go.

During a three-day sativa-ridden mania I came to this basic conclusion:

“Fuck this shit. If I already want to die. If I feel like death. If none of it matters, then I’m going to go out in the world and squeeze every last drop of pleasure that I can possibly get. I’m going to be raw and open and so honest it hurts. Because there’s nothing left for me. Except for those things. And if I connect with people along the way, good. If doing this changes me and the demons no long come around, great. But I’m going to ride it until the last drop of wine, the bite of steak, the last loud and long and ecstatic-driven orgasm.”

This is how I relate to Bourdain because when I see him, flawed, yet out there traveling the world, enjoying the simple pleasures, it seems like he had finally figured it out. That he had figured out how to say, “fuck this shit,” and win.

That’s why there is both hope and fear.

The hope that I can carry on a bit longer without the gray suffocating me again and the fear of knowing that one day it will be too heavy to get out from under, no matter what.

This is why I tell people to, “Go Eat A Carrot.”

It’s basically a triple entendre (which is one of my favorite things to write in the world):

1. Go literally eat an orange phallic-shaped vegetable (aka take care of yourself).
2. You suck as a person, go eat a dick (aka STFU).
3. You suck real good, keep on sucking that dick and eating that pussy (aka we all deserve more pleasure from this devastatingly beautiful and hard as fuck world).

And with that, because I never know when the cruelest joke in the world will make its return into my own life, I just want to thank everyone who has ever supported me, loved me, hated me, cheered me on, wished for my failures, eaten my pink taco (and vice versa), let me lick their carrot, brought me flowers, brought be sandwiches, talked to me, talked me out of it, talked me into something that I didn’t want to do but it made all the difference; really each and every one of you out there who makes this place so fucking amazing and awful at the same time. I seriously thank you, because yeah I know, it’s super cheesy and pseudo -sciencey but we’re all here right now, we’re all connected whether we want to be or not; we each do our best and I’m grateful to be a part of that, even if sometimes my best is just breathing through the day.

P.S.
If you’re feeling like shit, if you’re feeling like you’re trapped on the top floor of a burning building and the only way out is to jump, please fucking reach out to someone first. And if they don’t help, reach out to someone else. It sucks and it’s hard but keep reaching because I swear to the fucking goddesses in all of the universe that someone somewhere will take your fucking hand and lift you up (or like bring a long-ass ladder over so you can climb out the building). It’s okay. Nothing really matters. Everything is beautiful. Enjoy the pleasures.

P.P.S.
Burning building/ hi-rise thing was written by David Foster Wallace another beautiful soul gone too soon. Here’s some of that quote just because it’s stuck with me since I read Infinite Jest and it might be the most poignant moment in that long fucking confusing powerful gorgeous horrible lovely book:

“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”

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When People You Care About Almost Die

death and yolo

Please Do Not Die Yet My Friend(s)

or

YOLO, Death, and Shit.

Today I woke up to a text from my mother telling me that this guy who I have basically known since he was born (a few months after me) had had a heart attack. A 33-year-old man had his heart attack him. Are we already at that age where everyone around us is about to die? WTF?

Sometimes when I’m super depressed I think about death too much. Once I asked a guy at the bar how his 2017 went (as it was right after the new year) and he said, “good enough, I’m not dead.”

And I replied with, “But, how do you know that’s not better?”

He quickly and politely left that conversation.

But really. It’s a pretty deep and dark question. How do we know? We do not know. Even when we’re on mushrooms and we THINK we know, we think we get it, we still have no idea.

Isn’t that what makes living so beautiful and fun? Not really having any idea why we’re here or where we’re going next?

What a ride, huh?

I sent my friend a message asking him not to die today. He explained to me that he didn’t just have a heart attack, he had a MASSIVE heart attack.

To which I replied, “you always gotta go big huh?”

Like, what a jerk?!

People who die are dead and they no longer have to care about anything, but then there are the rest of us still here who have to deal with the death of that person.

I think a lot of people get super upset about other people dying mostly because it reminds them that they too will be dead soon.

And also of course, that the dead person will no longer be capable of contributing in anyway to the alive people’s lives–which is often sad if that dead person was entertaining or thoughtful or interesting in some way, shape, or form.

In any event, I am glad my friend is not dead. I am glad I am not dead (even though I feel dead inside quite often). I am glad there are so many alive people and that most of the people who are alive are pretty alright (some of you though need to work out a few things still).

Mostly glad that puppies and ice cream exist on this planet with me, but that’s a topic for another day.

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Almost Died. Bet You’re Happy About That.

still alive

Fucking Weird Shit Does Happen in Florida

or

If Someone Is Too Nice… Never Trust Them

 

Today I almost died, twice. Once because we interacted with a clean-cut serial killer who rents his car out to unsuspecting victims. Then, in an almost-actual car wreck where we were mere inches away from smashing and decapitating ourselves (the truck right in front of us had a bunch of wood sticking out his backend).

The weirdest part was that I wasn’t scared of death at all. I just had a feeling that this wasn’t it. And if it was it, whatever.

I mean, I’ve led an interesting life. I went to Burning Man once. I’ve had a threesome (more than once). I even read fucking Infinite fucking Jest.

Sure, there are plenty of things I still want to do before I die. Like have sex with a bro in an alley and then punch him in the face right when I’m cumming (consensually of course). Oh, and I want to have a threesome with two hot adult people dressed up like Mario and Luigi. And also a threesome with two hot adult people dressed up like Woody and Buzz (almost happened once but Woody chickened out). AND sex with a guy with a BIG dick dressed up like the Easter Bunny. Maybe do something weird with Santa Claus too? So many wonders are left to unfold.

I also want to finish writing this stupid fucking book that you all “claim,” you want to “read.”

And read it you shall because I ain’t fucking dead yet!

Once I almost died because my Super Type A Friend and my Super Type B Burner friend and I were all out at lunch at this Indian restaurant. They were chatting about their drug use. I was eating food because that’s what one is supposed to do at an Indian buffet. In any event, I had just taken a bite when my super Type A friend said, “I’ve never really done any drugs. Except that one time I smoked crack.”

Of course, I choked. She had to give me the Heimlich while my Super Type B Burner friend decided to go back to her plate and shove the rest of her food in her mouth like we were some kind of live-entertainment dinner theater.

Anyhoo. I go into WAY more depth about this particular incident and the time I blew everyone’s naked… minds… in my book that perhaps one day I will let at least one of you fuckers read.

In the meantime.

Namaste and shit.

Happy to still be here. I guess.

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