Staring at the Ceiling.

I was staring at the ceiling for about 30 minutes thinking about my love life... with out my -7.25 glasses the ceiling was blurry.

...thinking about my ad that I posted about wanting to have an interesting convo with someone and getting terribly unsought disgusting naked pictures from strangers. I had one conversation with a FOB about Vietnamese New Years and then he wanted to see pictures of my "hotdog."

I thought about how my itchy fingers texted James "hello." As expected, he did not respond. I imagined that he changed his number because I can't seem to leave him alone. Why do I itch to contact him? And I deleted his number for good. The idea that "just in case he calls..." began to disappear.


I thought about how last week, I hopped onto my OKcupid and messaged a couple of interesting folks... but came out dry.

I thought about how I asked Jimmy who was in New Orleans to send me a cute picture of himself, which he did and it made me happy for... 30 minutes.

I dreamt that I was making out with a girl from the office. And gagged a little.

I thought about my high school friend Aaron and the dysfunctional and damaged boys that he's been flirting with... I thought about his, "yeah... I'd rather have these no-goes than nothing at all" in response to my inquery.

I thought about the date that I have a with a boy that was "smitten" by me. I wondered where we would go to eat... and if this would even lead to anything.

I thought about what my Grandma said to my 35 year old cousin last night, "I hope you get married soon, so that I can die."

I thought about my conversation with a white boy from Grindr who didn't know what Vietnamese New Years entailed. I was happy that he wasn't fetishizing culture, but strangely sad that he was disconnected to something that was important to me. =Paradox=. He talked to about how he used to think commitment was overrated, but is currently over that idea.

I thought about the physically attractive multidimensional Vietnamese boy I hung out with last night with a group of friends and how I wanted to kiss his straight lips... I concluded that I'd like to date a Vietnamese boy again.

I thought about how my parents didn't come home until 3AM 4AM last night because they were out partying again with their crazy middle aged Vietnamese friends who can't seem to get enough Heineken and Karaoke.

I thought about the song that my dad composed for my mom with both English and Vietnamese lyrics. He joked about getting Michael Buble to sing it for him.

I thought about what I want... a boyfriend? psh, no. a playfriend? hmm.. sure. a hook up? not really.

I thought about how... I just want to feel something.

And now that these thoughts are out on paper digital... I can move on. Work tomorrow? YES!