I Just Wanna Be Fuckin’ Happy

I was minding my own business, on the back of a motorbike heading out of Tay Ho, Vietnam, when my Spotify shuffled to a random song by Julia Michaels. “What kind of sorcery is this?” I thought to myself as I gazed down to find out the artist and title. The song is called “Happy”, but it’s not about rainbows, butterflies, or drugs. The song is about sadness and heartache. She sang it in a way that touched me in my feels. It’s not often a song will turn me into a total softie while bobbing my head back and forth like I’m preparing for a mosh. However, the reason I was taken aback wasn’t because of that.

Why would a song about heartbreak, and not being happy, resonate with me so much when my life is good? That song essentially put me into a time machine, and flew me back to my cringy yet significantly trimmer and more youthful 16-year-old self. It made me think about times that I didn’t particularly want to go back to, and question many of my life choices. Yet, I still pressed repeat when I knew the song was coming to an end.

The next time I heard her sing the chorus, “I just wanna be fuckin’ happy.”, I asked myself what I had probably been suppressing for a long time. Am I really fucking happy? The fact that I asked that question was enough to know the answer was no. Don’t get me wrong, my life is great. I’m surrounded by an incredible community and wonderful friends. I love my family and have created a beautiful life for myself. I have a good life and I’m happy, but I’m not really fucking happy.

By that I mean, I still have voids I’m trying to fill. I still believe that my life will be better once I start my own business, or once I’m waking up every morning next to the doppelgänger of Leonardo DiCaprio from Titanic. (Yes, specifying Titanic rather than The Revenant makes a big difference in my book.) A part of me feels empty because I’ve created a life where the future, and things outside of myself, hold my conditional happiness. I was and am living a great life, but what’s keeping me from being really fucking happy is complete acceptance and gratitude for what is, regardless of other things I want that have yet to manifest in my life.

I am choosing in this moment to put my value and focus on different things. To bring my attention to the good that I have now rather than what I want in the future. That’s not to say I can’t have dreams and desires, but what I need to do is stop putting so much hype, hope, or worry on the future, that I feel my present is less valuable. Wanting more from life is fine and normal. However, needing something more to feel better, is not a goal we should strive for, yet we seem to have collectively agreed it’s alright.

Many think that in order to change your life, get what you want, and be fucking happy, we have to do something different. Although that’s not wrong, it’s not where to begin. It’s not about doing or having. It’s about being. Who do we have to become? Who do we have to be to change? We have been brought up in a world revolved around doing, but we won’t be taking the right actions if we haven’t become the right person first.

I am choosing to become more grateful and appreciative for what is. I am going to become more present and mindful. I am going to observe my thoughts, feel my feelings, and accept them without resistance. I am going to chill the fuck out and be fucking happy not by changing what I do or have, but who I am. Then, I’ll be truly fucking happy.

To The Guy Who Called Me A C#nt

Everyone at some point has been in a situation that was perceived as hurtful, disrespectful, or aggravating. However, the experiences that seem terrible to others, could be an opportunity to give you one more reason to smile. At least that’s what happened to me.

I had just arrived at my friend’s house for game/movie night and pizza. Shortly after, I received a message from a guy who I will refer to as “irrelevant”. He asked me what I was up to and I told him my plans, to which he said. 

“When are the games over?”

“When I feel like going to bed. Haha” I replied. 

If that wasn’t enough of a hint that I didn’t plan to meet up with him that night, I don’t know what is, but things escalated quickly from there. He sent me a voice memo about how he’s been “going through some shit” in his personal life lately, and wanted to take out his frustrations on me… sexually. Then, he proceeded to tell me what that would entail.

I had no problem with him saying any of that. If anything, his words made me blush and smile, while simultaneously giving me a mild panic attack that someone may have overheard. It’s what came after I told him that he wouldn’t be seeing me later, that had my friends gagging. 

Read for yourself…

I have no intentions on speaking to him again, even though he reached out to apologize the following day. However, my initial reaction after reading his texts, was a grin from ear to ear. Why? Because first of all, who says that? It’s pretty hilarious how stupid he is. More importantly, I’m at a point in life where I so strongly know my worth, that not even for a second did his words make me feel that I was missing out in any way, or was inferior to him or anyone else. The pizza alone will probably give me more of an orgasm than he ever could, so there was 100% nothing lost on my end.

I can’t even fathom what this would have done to me back in college. I probably would have responded to his apology faster than my heart raced when I thought someone overheard irrelevant saying what he wanted to do to me. I imagine receiving those texts back then would have negatively impacted what turned out to be an incredible night.

That situation was validation that my self worth, though not perfect, is stronger and higher than it’s ever been. The way I handled everything showed me that I no longer feed into people or situations that don’t add enough value to my life. It gave me an opportunity to reflect on how far I’ve come. Experiences that can easily be perceived as negative, tend to be the ones that will shed more light on the positive if you know where to put your focus. 

So, to the guy who called me a cunt… Looks like you’ll have to go fuck yourself now.

Being Single and Happy to Mingle

I’m going to be honest. I was that bitch that would say to myself “I’m an independent woman!” Yet, deep down, I was screaming “Somebody love me!” I bet I was oozing desperation without even realizing it. Probably like a hybrid of someone from Love Island and a chick from The Bachelor who’s biological clock was ticking.

I considered myself to be a confident person, but the fact that I wasn’t able to find that love people talk about in fairy tales would sometimes keep me up at night. I would wonder how someone could be so fucking awesome, and make so many great connections with guys, but still nothing would reach my expectations.

Only recently have I genuinely been at peace with never having found that love I so desperately was searching for. I’m beyond content with the connections I’m making, without having a desire turn my dates into interviews, to see if they have what it takes to wife me up. I’m living my best life, and used to think the only way that could happen is if that special someone was there to share my life with me. To be honest, it’s kind of nice to be able to meet up with a guy for 12-24 hours, and then send them away. It’s like looking after someone’s dog for the day, loving every minute of it, knowing you don’t have to pick up their shit at 6AM the next morning.

After some introspection, I’ve discovered some possible reasons as to why I’ve had some shifts in my perspective in regards to being single. The more I validate and acknowledge my worth, the less validation I need from others. I’m a lovable person, and just because I haven’t found that special someone to love me doesn’t make me less lovable or worthy of love. The older I get, the less shits I give about absolutely everything. Don’t like me? Tragic on your end. You don’t know a good thing when you see it. I’m more authentic when I communicate with people and I’m not as concerned about rejection or what they’ll think of me.

I’m also exploring my sensuality more than ever, and giving a safe space for others to do the same. 92.7% of the dudes I’m meeting, I genuinely connect with, and like spending time together. We have a fucking blast. Literally and figuratively. Sorry, I couldn’t resist that joke.

It’s like another part of my mind has opened up to see that there is a way to create a life of happiness with the same environment and relationship status that once didn’t satisfy me. When you see the good, more good keeps coming.

I’m no longer looking for love because I am love. Sure, I’d love to be in a relationship, but it will find me when the time is right. As for now, I need to get ready for a date with a hot Italian guy. Until next time.

My Life is a Fucking Shit Show, but I’m Still Happy

I’m not going to beat around the bush. I tell it like it is. My life is a fucking shit show, but I love it.

It only makes sense to start off with some of the reasons why my life is a fucking shit show. My internal clock has been fucked for the past two months. I average about 4 hours of interrupted sleep every night. I can guarantee both of my parents will call me within the next few days about their concerns on the matter. My mom might even book a flight to Vietnam in the hopes she’d miraculously be able to cure my sleeping problems by her mere motherly presence. It’s like Edward Cullen from twilight bit me, and now I never need to sleep to survive. I wish the reason I can’t sleep was because that stud bit me though.

It also looks like I ate my old self from all of the bahn mi and fried rice. I swear, all of the meals here are basically “Would you like some food with that oily, greasy, fattening  fried-ness?” I’m going to town anyways, often resembling that Telly Tubby character with a vacuum nose that sucks up food with the intensity and speed of Robert Downey Jr. taking a line back in 1987.

Did I mention I barely drink water? I’m surprised I’m not looking like SpongeBob in the episode where he goes on land and almost dies from drying up. PS I woke up today with tonsillitis and the penicillin makes me feel like a 90 year old cat woman, but instead of cats, I have a sore throat.

Now, let’s get into being in Vietnam. People shoot snot rockets in the middle of the road more nonchalantly than a head nod. The air is as polluted as the mind of my friends psychotic ex boyfriend. Every time you cross the road you feel like you’re in the video game frogger and you are playing the hardest level on your last life.

Believe it or not, I love my life and where I am regardless of those situations. I’m even making changes to create a better life, and to love myself even more. I just signed a lease to have a home base in Vietnam. I’m with friends who I love, and they don’t shoot snot rockets in the road. I started working out again and got a gym membership. Working on the sleep and water, but I think it will change in time. I also started the job of my dreams, although I almost can’t even call it a job. I literally get paid to travel the world and make friends.

All that said, life in general is always a fucking shit show. There will always be shit, but it’s what you make of it. And I’m making me a bomb ass fucking shit show, and it keeps getting better.