What a shitty year. I personally don’t know anyone that got to really accomplish anything. Even friends or family celebrating marriage and births couldn’t do it the way they originally intended. All significant moments rushed and contact-conscious – making experiences less emotional and meaningful. All my interactions lately have been work related. My typical meetings still scheduled in-person but I can’t deliver my impressive handshake that makes men fall on their knees and beg for me to let go. I GET THINGS DONE is what I’m trying to say! Without my handshakes, I feel inadequate and awkward when a meeting ends. Besides that, 2020 has definitely been a year of reflection. I feel like I can say that for most people. Most people with a brain. Sorry stupid brainless/braindead space-wasters. That wasn’t really targeted for anyone so if you’re offended… well. MY POINT IS: I turned 30 this year. I have not tried to end my life – not even once! Life is just the same; melancholy is a shadow that follows me. Oh my god, ew. I’m kidding but just typing that as a joke feels gross. Like, go die already, Kimberly.
I haven’t met with anyone this year. Some friends, yes. No men/boyz. I can’t even see myself on a date anytime soon. The idea sounds miserable. Staring at a stranger’s face, pretending to find interest in their work, pretending I am interested in my own work, lying about how many guys I have to shoo away. Maybe that’s just me. Not really kidding. The less I’ve shown my face on social media, the less I receive date threats. Get it? Not death threats but date threats. I’m on one today, baby!! Jokes all day. I’ve gone so far with the idea of shooing away guys that I’ve blocked almost every guy I’ve interacted with on social media and even their phone numbers. Usually the guys I had negative experiences with and some I just want to pretend never existed. There is a weird pattern of exboyfriends or guys that I trashed, already married or in serious relationships, contacting me about wanting to see me again. Blocked.
I had 2 decent prospects that didn’t escalate to anything. One guy lives in Midland and the distance made me uninterested. His lifestyle intimidates me – I know I’m not his type. He should be repulsed by me, he doesn’t seem to be, which I can’t help but categorize as a flaw. He is interested in me – terrible. Why? He is so fit. His life revolves around fitness and healthy shit and me? Well my life revolves around food and unhealthy shit. He could be only interested in very short-term involvement but I’m not in the mood for that nonsense. It’s not worth it to me. I’m 30 now; I’m better than that. Until I’m 35 and definitely can’t have kids then I’m not better than that and I’m all about that. Lookit me, disinterested in a guy because he’s just too fucking healthy. The other guy, sporty – or used to be, seems normal except for the fact he refuses to elevate the form of communication to real text messaging. It’s straight up only Snapchat – which I have not been very active on. He’s 35, a lawyer/liar and on Snapchat and refuses to share contact info… So why waste my time meeting him? He has something to hide and I don’t care enough to find out. Other than that, he’s actually a pretty good candidate. I can’t bring myself to allow that type of behavior. Zero tolerance for that level of communication. What does that say about how he thinks of me? Boy, bye.
My general mood lately is just “fine”. Zero drama in my life right now. I’m finding it hard to stay connected with friends simply because I’m not in the mood. I feel unconnected with them even if I tried my hardest to connect. I know a lot of them are lost like me. Even those with established careers and reaching milestones. Why do they do it? They ask themselves that too. I’m lost… but not lost enough to feel like I have to climb narrow, steep, cliffs. I have a number of friends doing this and they all seem to be the same type of person. Not only my personal friends, I understand it’s one of those things to do right now. It’s almost as if they put themselves at risk to feel something new and exciting. But mostly an excuse to post something – anything on social media for the likes. Likes on social media never made me feel particularly accomplished but I think some people need that very temporary acknowledgment even if it’s forgettable. For example, I asked a friend about a mutual friend of ours – why this person wasn’t asking his girlfriend of many years to marry him. Their response: Kim, you liked the engagement pic. There you have it. Liked but not remembered. Anyway, putting myself in dangerous situations… Not my idea of fun lol. To a certain extent. I can appreciate excitement but imagining putting myself in that position, actually climbing and finishing an infamous, deathly hike… would personally make me feel maybe more lost. Why would I be doing it? Because other people are doing it?? Oh my god, it’s almost like the saying “if Karen jumped off a bridge,…” It just seems like constant chase over cliffs, hills, and mountains looking for some sort of meaning – like a goddamn rainbow or a clear blue sky and life suddenly makes sense?? It’s a few degrees away from being one of those skyrise rooftop hanging freaks. Was that mean? What are they called… adrenaline chasing FREAKS. IDK. I suppose everyone has their way of thinking and method of coping with 2020. For me, it has always been writing and pointing out flaws in other people. Lol?
Although I am bored – I’m not bored or lost enough to want to hike and hang off a cliff looking down to a very possible demise. I think too much about the possible consequences like if I die from a hike… god, how embarrassing for my life and family. That’s exactly what I was thinking about when I was robbed at gunpoint a few years ago. While on the floor, head laying flat along the street, waiting to get shot in the back, the only thoughts running through my mind is “maybe holding my breath would make it hurt less” and “this is so embarrassing, my poor family”. I wonder if anyone understands that. I know the holding breath thing sounds weird c’mon. Seconds of silence that feels like eternity, waiting to get shot, you’re gonna think of semi-dumb stuff to help ease the idea of dying. I also thought about not wanting to suffer or survive from getting shot. I didn’t want to live a life restricted and I definitely didn’t want to bleed for 45min on the street, waiting for help, and dying on my way to the hospital. I wanted it to be quick and done. I don’t think I asked my friend what was running through her mind that night. She was pretty hysterical – in a reasonable way. I mean, she thought she was going to die that night. She loves life and has a lot to live for… so she cried. I’m surprised at how calm I was. Not like I was ready to die but if it was supposed to be my last moment in this world… I didn’t want to be crying. How embarrassing. Oh my god, I’m so immature. Can’t even finish a thought without making a joke. I remember thinking if I had regrets. Apparently not. Just kept thinking about my brothers having to identify my body and assuming I was involved in something retarded that got me to this point. My mom whaling like an animal because she is so very dramatic. Like, yeah… she’s crying because I’m dead but more about how tragic it is for her – that this death happened to her.
Other than writing nonsense, I feel like I’m not tapping into my creative side enough. I’m not producing material that reflects me. I have this weird bottled up energy and nowhere to put it. I can’t help but think about Matthew McConaughey. Good segway, I know. He wrote a book recently – a condensed compilation of his diaries from many decades throughout his life. He’s promoting his book hardcore – you can tell by the sudden amount of interviews he’s doing. It’s an awkward time so he’s doing it all from home. You can almost see what days he decided to do certain interviews by the clothes and the location. I’m not a creep at all. My point is… he seems tied to his computer lately looking for instant gratification from the release of his book. As someone who pretends to be a decent writer, I can’t imagine the energy it required from MM to get this product out there. To have people love it, hate, judge the work you cherish so much. Could I ever do something like that?
It’s already the end of the year. I got my eyebrows did, lips did, asshole bleached, totally hairless from the mustache down. JK about the asshole. I feel comfortable to list some of the things I plan on doing in the future/hopefully near future. Buccal fat removal. About to go as blonde as possible – to my liking. Not like trampy, sugar baby, blonde. A respectable blonde. Nose job – has to be done in LA I think. Ugh. BBL in Houston. I don’t think I want anything else done. I know everyone and their moms/transitioning dads have had their boobs done but it was never a real goal of mine. I like small boobs. Not that mine are all that small but I like natural boobs. I’m just against foreign objects implanted into the body. It is so silly to me. That’s my opinion, so don’t be offended. It’s one thing to enhance what you have with cosmetic surgery but when plastics are involved – there’s something silly about it. Like please look at the plastic protuberance I just installed in my body. I trailed off. The work I want done sounds drastic but these are items I crossed off and wrote back in my physical to-do list for many years. Insecurities about my nose since middle school, flat ass since end of high school and early college. I am not doing it for attention, I’m doing to rebuild the confidence I once had. I grew up being told I was the better looking sister (still am) but as I got older and grew less concerned with my appearance and wanting attention, it’s hard to bounce back to a decent looking state. To my standards – not for anyone else. Sometimes we need to readjust to get back to where we left off. Yes I’m still talking about my appearance. Do you think Kim Kardashian looks this good by NOT getting work done. Oh, there’s tweaks, baby! Tiny tweaks needed to look and feel good again. That’s all. In a world were people want to stand out and feel different yet end up all doing the same things – I can say I don’t do that. I am one of the few that don’t have a tattoo, no belly or genital piercing, no boob job. The blonde thing is because I’ve kept my hair virgin for many, many years and wanted to try it out once. Then dying brown for that great ashy brown color that is so hard to achieve with naturally black hair. Finally, at some point, lasik. The fear of doing lasik and this post being called “Hindsight is 20/20” and going blind is like the cherry on top.
Going back to the whole “…not doing it for anyone else – only me”, and growing up regarded as the better looking sister. I think that was probably the foundation of my fixation on appearance. As the youngest and gosh darn cutest sibling, any time I met new people at school (including teachers) and parents’ friends – they all had to mention how cute I was. How I would grow up really pretty. That did not work out lol. I’m not a monster – I guess I’m average and maybe that’s my fault. I’ve been ignoring how much my appearance bothers me but why does it bother me? Am I not living up to my own standards or the standards that manifested within me rooting from opinions of other people. I recall the moment my parent’s friend commented on how the mole under my eye is my only flaw. The one mole on my face was a distraction and “bad luck”. My mom made calls and got my middle school ass in a sketchy spa to get it removed. It worked – only 90%. The bitch botched me and left me with about 5-10% of mole left on my face. I eventually got the rest removed but it left me a little botched still. Maybe I am not doing it for myself – perhaps I feel like I have to prove something. Either way, working with what I have hasn’t gotten me very far. I used to think “I will get all this work done and what happens when I am not as cute as I had hoped? Where does that put me on the scale? What is life if I don’t have the looks because I’m sure as hell not smart”. I still think this. At this point in my life, if I don’t do these things, these things WILL be my only regret in life. Not “wish I hiked that XYZ” or “missed out on swimming with sharks” but I think the tweaks are more than necessary if it means I am finally comfortable in my own skin. I know I don’t particularly like what I see when I look in the mirror. Maybe I can love the tweaked me and someone will love tweaked me enough to bankroll me. I need to feel good about myself again. Until these tweaks don’t work anymore… Then I’ll get some tattoos and a boob job and post pics with showing nips on purpose but acting like it was a mistake.