I'm not meant to be alone, turn this house into a home.

I'm sitting in, trying to listen to my silence. It wrote a song that I have not been able to shake. A damn melodic line that sticks in my ear and haunts me. Humming? I often wonder if anybody else can hear it. Can you see this song do a dance in me? Sometimes it makes me frown. It makes cry.It steals my voice. It makes me cuddle up and want to sleep for days. It makes my toe tap and keeps my knees bouncin'. It makes me feel inadequate. It's lonely. There is no harmony to this song for it stands alone. Sometimes we hear things that draws us in...that tickles our fancy-a baby's giggle, a rustling leaf, the ocean. Then we hear things that we can live without-you're not good enough, he will come, you can't do it. Nonetheless, both are songs. Both to which are ears are tuned to hear.
I struggle daily with loneliness. Granted there are plenty of people in this world who love me unconditionally: as friends. I don't think I can ever truly express how grateful my friend loves in my life are. They are loves that will feed me when I'm hungry, tickle me when I'm sad, cuss me out when I've been drinkin and listen to me when I need it. These loves are beautiful and perfect; loves that I wish for in a partner. BUT, I want a him. I want somebody who is wild about me. Who thinks that my body is sexy. That my lips are something he thinks about all day long while he's working. I'm looking for a him to book vacations with, to take home to the South. To hear him snore in the night is what delight seems to me. I want a wedding day.
The journey to find my mister right and the harmony to my new song has many steps -i'm well aware. I often fight with the phrase that he will come in time. At what time? How much longer in this life do I have to go without it? Am I not loving myself enough? And by being fixated on the fact that I am alone , am I doing myself a disservice? I don't want to be jaded when he gets here and I don't want him to have all the pressure of having to be my ideal man.. definetly not fair for him. Over the years I have had to learn to protect myself. I've built my personality, i've worked my career, I wake everyday and hype myself up so that I remain open and honest and willing to love and yet, well i'm still waiting.
I grew up a fat kid with bad skin. I was poor. I struggled in school sometimes and yet i've made it to where I am today. I didn't have the beautiful rites of passages like first girlfriends or dates or a first kiss that mattered, I served the purpose of being everyone's funny friend. Funny people are human too and need the same things the everybody else does. I don't know what I'm gonna do in this life, but I am a person who is a lover by nature and needs his prince to come and share this wacky life with me. I hear you silence but I believe, with my eyes closed real tight, that there is a new song taht i'm longing to hear.

I.love.being.Southern.

Imma say this shit loud and clear: I love being Southern. People say why do you love such a backwards, inbred, ignorant place and I say: kiss my ass? I mean isn't that just a natural response to someone who tries to disrespect the thing you love so much. I say give me a home where the toothless bitches roam. Okrrrrrr!
Almost six years ago I made a decision to leave the South and move to NYC and I knew then that a part of me would never be the same again. It's THAT part of me that is making me write today.
Welcome to NYC, home of big words, concrete, homeless people, high taxes and hustle.

Oh Lord, I hit the town running. My first day in NYC would pretty much shape the rest of my time here. I turn onto 42 from the Tunnel and my best friend said, "Here you go Girl!" Next thing you know Billy Joel's Uptown Girl was blasting through the speakers as we headed up the West Side Highway. Later on that night I went to East of Eighth and saw my first live singing drag queen and thus began my obsession with those ladies with duck tape and tracks with fierce background vocals and chords of steal. I can't complain, my time here in NYC has been fabulous. I have been surrounded by beautiful things and some wonderful experiences, but heart still belongs to the place of endless skies and beautiful earth kissing the bottom of my toes.

THE MEN OF NYC....
are and will continue to be my biggest weakness in this damn city. We did not have boys that looked them in NC. Diversity is a joke in the South. In my town there was Black, White and Mexican and two Asian families, who owned both the Chinese spots and the dry cleaners...no lie. So imagine when I got here and was introduced to the South Africans, the Greeks, The Dominicans, and every other type of men. I went crazy. I was in heat. The heat soon wore off when I realized that finding a man to love you more than three hours became a little difficult. I just kept thinking did I really move all the way here to feel just as alone as I was in NC. I knew that because there were men who were out and about. Proud of who they were men, men without shame, men who moved to this same place for self expression and freedom; they were surely determine to couple and pair up and settle down like all the other models of families I remember seeing.

Being invited to VIP events, the theater, fashion shows and premieres have all been great and beautiful. My journey has lead me to realize that they have also have made my head very cloudy and noisy and they've also been very time consuming. I remember as a child when things were too busy, too loud, too grownup and scary to me, I ran to the outside. I could sit for hours by myself. Taking the Earth in between my toes, smelling the earth and getting so absolutely lost in a cloud floating above. I love the beautiful music and poetic beauty of a Southern dialect. How listening to your mother talk on the phone had the ability lull you to sleep. I love how the most important things in the world centered around family. How because of a little taste that your grandmother had in her mouth, dinner was shopped for and prepared before the sun was at it's highest place. I miss the gentle odor of tobacco. I miss sitting on the front porch late in the night while waiting for the house to cool down just a little bit. I miss sitting close to adults and having them clothe you in wisdom and knowledge. People in the South aren't stupid or slow, we are a more simple people. We say what we need to say, when we need to say it. I miss it's beauty. I miss it's welcoming. I miss people being open and ready to give and receive love. There is a beautiful chamber in my heart that lights up when I see an open field or a blue sky. I sit alone a lot closing my eyes and trying to feel the embrace of the place that reared me and taught me life. Love you NC.

Frontin' the gasian frontier

Here's the thing...
In my heart there is this deep sadness for my fellow queer asian brothers. I don't understand why you get discrimated upon in this community. The kids say the darndest things, like you don't have big man parts, that you are submissive, that you all practice Kung Fu, but I have one thing to say: sign me up for the Tokyo express. Recently I have joined the Panda Bandwagon and I've been riding recklessly with only a lapbelt.

It all started back when...
I remember it like it was yesterday. I had grown tired of my grown up "dating" websites, aka barebacking portals, and wanted to find true love. I, the baller on a budget that I am, went to the trusty FREE website OKCupid. (My asian brother, I realize that you enjoy saving a dollar; whether it be in a reduced tip or a shopping coupon, but your saving game has not gone unrecognized) Within a matter of days my website generated matches were mostly asian and this is when my mouth started watering for rice. I had realized that my eyes had been closed for so long to the wonder of the Orient. I knew that the next time I opened my eyes the only thing I would see was the wonderful color of yellow. (bad puns over)
I just knew I was playing the field. I had spoken with every Kim, Wang, Lo and Lee. All were smart. All were multi talented. All had everything I wanted. So I found one in particular to go on a date with-a face to face if you will...and me knowing the person you are, you will. It turned out to be, well very interesting. It redefined wang chung.
In this section I will do a compare and contrast.

Myths about G'Asians
G'asians can't drink...(false)
*Not only did he outdrink me but he challenged me to a game of beerpong with Sake*
G'asians are submissive...(false)
*After i got the rope from around my neck, and now that I can sit with ease: i can write with confidence-- F*@K what you heard. I still have to buy more Ben Gay!*
G'asians have small man parts...(...)

I am not afraid to jump feet first into the world of high fashion and slight eyes. I just know to be more prepared next time.

Beautiully Human

I am brass. giddy. quiet. sensitve. cold. angry. bitter. lonely. jaded. excited. full of life. lover of people. hater of people. simple. flamboyant. a failure. a success: beautifully human.

Today I start this post a little crazy on the inside. The sky is thought provoking gray. There is this crisp chill in the air that kinda hugs you and keeps you wrapped in it's prescence. The wind is whispering. The birds still. Today the city is sleeping. It's the beginning of a week and this beast that is New York is lightly resting her eyes; I rest silently with her. I sit at this coppercovered bar. Food to my left, bottles in front of me, my head empty and yet my mind races. Here's the real problem. I left a voice lesson today. It was the first time I had been to one in well over two years. I wasn't perfect in my lesson. My voice sounded weak. It didn't do what I needed it to do. I was embarassed. I was angry. I felt stupid. I felt like the one thing I am great at, I couldn't do. My pride was hurt. My teacher didn't come from a place of judgement, but of encouragement. I'm pretty sure I didn't sound as bad as I am making it out. I've pinpointed the reason why I'm so frustrated. This lesson is just one more example of my non perfection. I am not perfect. I am not perfect. I am not perfect. I've known this for years. I'm not perfect in comparsion with others. My beauty is not like theirs. My comedy-not like theirs. My flaws-not like theirs. But if they were would I be any more special because my flaws are exact to that of someone else? No. I'd just be a carbon copy of someone else's perfect little flaws. I've come up with this theory: my flaws are my perfection. Simple right. That theory allows you to love all the things that you hate. It reinforces that you, indeed, are not a mistake. One thing that makes me excited is that he, the one who will rest his head on my shoulder while I clean up dinner dishes, will love my flaws. It's taken me awhile to understand my beauty. It's difficult when you belong to an environment, a culture, a society that places such importance on being thin and proportioned and to look this way or that. I've learned that I cannot be boxed and my challenge to you: don't allow yourself to be boxed! I relax back into my chair now and quietly rejoicing in my humaness, my "flawed" humaness that makes me beautiful. love you as much as i'm learning to me.

.....if you can't love yourself

How can you love someone else if you don't truly love yourself? I have heard that phrase soo many times in my life. There have been times when I have truly been so annoyed by that phrase that I've wanted to throw up. But it rings true. Today I'm angry. I'm hurt. I'm lonely. I'm pissed. I'm being honest. The past few days of cloudiness has drawn out to weeks and the weeks to months and I sit here wondering-when was the last time I didn't feel this rumble of anger in my spirit? Have I really been looking and loving through cloudy eyes? Have I? Have I cheapened my relationships with new people in my life? Have I fairly given them a chance? And why, why have I been running to find new people and places to fill this whatever? I've been hurt by noone in particular but by everyone. My song is strained. My breath labored. My embrace half assed. I can't help make anyone better when I can't even make myself better. Lost. Weakened by reality. Callused by, just by life. And yet everyday I push up against it and fight to not let it affect my life. I have joy. Joy is this beautiful thing that is nonsituational. Joy is deep and can withstand so much, but it's the situations that have really, really pullled me together. In the media there is noone like me. There are not many people like me. On the outside looking in makes me scream. I won't necessarily mind being one in the crowd, instead of standing alone and the crowd forms around the spectacle. I scream. My mouth opens, my chords freeze and my eyes water. I'm saying I need help. I'm saying listen to me. I'm saying care about what I need to say...and you say(...) When you hurt it's not fair. Not fair to you, people you love, places you are...it gets to be a little too much. To heal yourself you need to get away. To sit. To be quiet. To get lost in your world of confusion, of noise, of silence, of twisted thoughts, be lost in you. Let all the pain flood the back of your eyelids. Let all the hate seep from your pores. Shake off all the negativity that is choking your heart and spitting angrily to people you love in hopefully unheard insults. And sometimes we write. We write to let people know they are not alone. That alot of people hate themselves. That alot of people are vulnerable. That alot of people feel this. We write because sometimes noone listens. And yet everyone hears....nothing. I write because I don't know how to articulate what needs to escape. i write to let me pain out. I write because I feel alone in a world surrounded by people. I write cause I'm angry, i'm hopeful, I'm lonely, I horny, I'm missunderstood, I'm seen and yet am invisible, i don't trust myself and don't believe that anyone else can love me, i write my clarity, my honesty, your truths, your weaknesses, your voice and for my own sanity. I write today to say..i don't love myself like i should but today i'm admitting it and can only grow from here. I write because my voice is that of many and my chords are lives past and present and they channell life through my fingers. I write. I'm now silent. I peacefully reflect. I thank you for your ear and your heart.

Skinny Bitch..you cold ain't you?

That's right I said it and i am not afraid! As summer sprints out of this bitch, Finter(fall+winter) is tightly on it's half clothed ass. I, a person who sometimes carry a little bit of weight about my hips and stomach, aka a big bitch, is proud to see that annoying ho leave. I am over the back sweat, the moist crotch and the constant circles of sweat underneath my arms. Just always warm. But now comes the time of year when the extra jiggle that wouldn't allow me to wear my racer back tank and my linen daisy dukes comes in handy. It keeps me warm, like a goose down comforter, like a hot sip of coffee going down your raw sore throat. Oh, my poor counterparts. You remember how you would take your tops off so slowly at the beach and I was in the corner slowly dying of heat stroke cause I had the moobies acebandaged and taped. Dear small frame, do you remember when you would rotate front to back making sure you got that all over tan and if i was brave enough that day to unleash the girls in public, i would lay on my stomach getting burnt on one side trying to front like I had it all together, creating this two toned ho-ho that was never quite right. Dear avoider of carbs, do you remember when you used to walk down the streets shirtless in basketball shorts and no drawers, well thank you for that one, hell I can't be mad at that at all. My point being, the sun is going away and now you're cold. Why are you gonna be cold? YOU HAVE NO BODY FAT!! HAHAHAHA! So if you catch a chill and you wanna snuggle up to something warm and nice, come see your boy! Theres enough love for all of us in the warmth of my embrace. The big boys are in season right now and I couldn't be happier.

Peacefully warm,
Plussize Twink

Coffee

In the sweet wintry months of 2009 I coined the term "Recessionista" for myself. You might be asking yourself, what does that mean? It means that you still live fabulously on a low to no budget budget. Still be seen at the same spots where you have been seen before....same clubs, same shows, same spots; afterall, no one needs to know that your bank account is overdrawna and your EBT card empty. Throw on a boat, a pair of shades, plaster a smile on and strut down the street somewhere.So needless to say I have spent a great deal of time thinkin of what I could do for really cheap that would still keep my face out and about and that would give me something to do....i came up with coffee. Think of this: it's cheap, it's cute, prime people watching and you can get things done. There is only one big problem with this: I'm caffeine sensitive. One drop of coffee and I literally could run up and down the Statue of Liberty in one swoop. I am what the kids call naturally hyper. As a child sugar was not allowed in my diet. AT ALL. I think to remedy my amounts of crazy energy my mother would send me outside and by send my outside I mean lock me out the house and tell me not to bring my ass back inside until dinner time. I mean i'm not mad at her. I was a nappy head chocolate ball of energy. I often used my outside times as times of discovery. Solo football games, creating operas, playing waterhose, dry humping the boys in my neighborhood...you know-innocent things. Fridays, oh Fridays were my favorite days. I got a chance to have sugar and that was the one day of the week my mother hated. I was allowed a Lipton Brisk Iced Tea and a Twix, aka a shit show in plastic. I got my treat at 5, by 630 I was passed out from sugar overload. You may laugh but in that hour and a half between joy and dispair was so much crazy YOU would have died. I'm just saying one day I woke up out of one of my sugar blackouts and a dead goat was lying beside me with it's tail dyed and braided....at least that's what I remember![insert inquisitive eyebrow raise and scary dramatic music] And you would think that as you grow older it would calm down some, not so much. I sit here now heart a fluttering because I was feeling lovely today and had two Venti drinks from Starbucks. I promise you, if it was not for me trying to be smooth in front of this extremely attractive browned eyed big booty boy sitting in front of me I would be doing cartwheels and cooterslams!!! I am T minus 15 minutes before I pass out, asleep, on the bathroom floor of Starbucks among the morning pee and your general STD's. Oh a day in the life!

love plussize twink,

p.s. coffee makes you poo!!!!