1,174 things hanselbaby likes Explore more popular stuff on Tumblr →

i love… cigarettes

and

nothing else, officially

drive to west la. meet todd. go to his house and get stoned. ask for a massage. strip down to your underwear. feel his hands shake when he touches you. smirk under your layer of hair and wonder if he is scared out of his fucking mind. shove your ass in his face. get tongue fucked for a blissful eternity. beg him to fuck you. feel him collapse after he cums. talk about all the bones he’s ever broken. fall asleep. jerk awake, tell him you have to go home. get in the car, get stuck in traffic. reach for your cigarettes, learn that you left your lighter at his house. suffer through the rest of the ride. get home, make a jack & coke. reach for cigarettes. find the book of matches from that one bar where you met that guy and he started texting you before he even left. hope you can fuck him too. remember his stupid jokes. think of his scruffy almost-beard. imagine his hands on your hips. masturbate vigorously. scream into your pillow. brush your teeth. look in the mirror to find your face flushed with pinks and reds brighter than you’ve seen in months. look alive. feel alive. pass out immediately.

Growing up, I wanted to be the equivalent of Super Woman. A teacher, an interior designer, a social worker, a counselor, a mother, active in the community. I wanted the best of all worlds. I wanted to have summers off so I could still swim in my family’s pool (now occupied by a family with a rottweiler). I wanted to move far, far away for college, and even started counting down the years when I turned 11. I would escape from my chaotic family life, the sadness, the frustration, the anger, the guilt. I wanted my dad to come back. I wanted to buy a VW Jetta for my graduation present, & everyone told me that if I got good enough grades in high school, I wouldn’t even have to pay for my education. 

I went to school 45 minutes away from home. I graduated in 3.5 years. I worked full-time for half of that time. I totaled my car in an accident. I studied abroad. Twice. I met some of my best friends. My mother didn’t fund the pesos that I’d take out of the ATM once a month. Because I did. & I never got a full-ride to college. My dad came back, came back just in time for the priest to come say some prayers before he was supposed to die. The government says I have to pay not only my loans, but interest on those loans. The government doesn’t know that jobs are competitive, & scarce. 

It’s hard for me not to think of what I wanted, versus what I gave myself. Or what I received. I sit here, quite possibly finishing up the last cover letter in this round of employment searching, wondering what the difference is between dreams and reality. Are they even comparable? Is success a constant, regardless the type? Will more money & more responsibility really mean more vacations? A cute little apartment in the city by the lake? A Fiat? Happiness? & now that I’m so close, I might get to find out. 

Let the interviews begin. The interviews, the gateway to my future. 

I dropped off my bike last night for a tune up and to get a couple cables replaced. (It turns out I have to wait a full week before they can actually fit me in! Is that normal???)

Anyway, I ended up talking to the mechanic on duty long after the place had closed. And we got into a HUGE debate about the purpose of these two little screws.

Just us. Standing in the bike shop after hours. Waving our arms around. The girl who couldn’t figure out how to reattach a wire versus the professional bike mechanic.

BUT TODAY THE INTERNET TELLS ME I’M RIGHT.

They’re called Derailleur Limit Screws, and YES they serve a purpose!

I’m trying to figure out if it would be worth it to print out a bunch of stuff and bring it in to wave around in his face.