This is how you lose her.

You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery store, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.

You must remember when she forgets.

You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.

She remembers when you forget.

You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.

You must learn her.

You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.
You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.

And, this is how you keep her.

Is it just me, or is it the season where more and more people are getting engaged? Sometimes I'm jealous but i'm not.

Instead of confessing on this page I like you, I'm gonna tell you in person. What do I have to lose since this is my last week at work with you. Whatever the outcome is, I'm gonna do something I never done which is let a person I have feelings for know how I feel towards them... I'm gonna tell you how beautiful you are, how much of a wonderful human being you are to others, how you are the reason I make it through work. Your smile captivates me and sets my heart with extreme happiness. Your who I want to be with and make happy and take care of.
Last week, last chance, and last confession on this page. Or else you'll never know and I'll wonder the "what if's..."

Now, this is a story all about how
My life got flipped-turned upside down
And I liked to take a minute
Just sit right there
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air

In west Philadelphia born and raised
On the playground was where I spent most of my days
Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool
And all shootin some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys
Who were up to no good
Startin making trouble in my neighborhood
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared
She said 'You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air'

I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror
If anything I can say this cab is rare
But I thought 'Now forget it' - 'Yo homes to Bel Air'

I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8
And I yelled to the cabbie 'Yo homes smell ya later'
I looked at my kingdom
I was finally there
To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel Air

Do you remember the "Be Nice to Bugs" car? I've always wanted to meet the owner, become best friends, and then sit passenger during a drive. Coolest car on campus.

For the first time in the past few months, a girl told me I was attractive. It wasn't my girlfriend.

Many people die from drug and alcohol overdose all the time. And people don't care. All this media about Cory Montieth, and how tragic it is. Shouldn't be doin heroine in the first place. Living life too fast. People! Say no to drugs, with exceptions. And alcohol is always welcome. Cheers~

Allow me to politely gather your friendly attention with the word RAPE. Now, I must make clear that I consider RAPE to be right up there with murder and theft on the list of things that are heinous and unacceptable (when you think about it, rape sort of seems like the bastard child of Mr. Murder and Ms. Theft, with the twisted way it borrows from both crimes). But I am writing this confession because I am afraid of the way we deal with "sexual aggression"/"dating violence," etc. in the United States and, to a certain extent, within actual anti-rape literature I've come across at Augsburg College. My main problem, which I will try not to muddy with endless incongruous examples, is that while we spend so much time telling women and girls to anticipate and prepare for rape, and (conveniently for activist groups who are always looking for funding and members) inflaming existing gender hostilities in the process, WE DO NOTHING as a culture TO TEACH OUR MEN AND BOYS NOT TO RAPE nor to simply respect women. I have seen many pamphlets full of bullshit blanket statements like "avoid anyone who 'just wants to be alone with you'" or ones that try and clinicalize and marginalize the basic feelings of men (like the men who feel them, each feeling is different; not all of them are pretty). I have yet to see a pamphlet that says "all humans are potentially inclined to violence, especially with psychological complications mixing with powerful sexual urges. This may be you at some point in time. You must know that acting on these urges is unacceptable and dangerous for all parties involved. This is because this is the worst possible breach of boundaries and personal space. The way we treat ours and one another's bodies is fundamental to the condition of human rights in a civilized society." My former partner quite shrewdly suggested to me that I perhaps was violently sexual, and, given her extant female advantage in that regard, that meant only her terms could play a part in defining what that meant. Instead of dumping my violent ass right away though, this polemic was used to shame my urges and make our sex life totally conditional to the whims of only one "partner." Love shouldn't hurt (that's another line from those damnable pamphlets!)? Well, I KNOW we were in love and KNOW it hurt, to deal with our mutual insecurity as it grew and grew for each of us. It got to a point where every time I would try to express myself in a way that I felt was uncontrived and a genuine, ardent expression of what I call the Lovesex Continuum with the most modest advance (perhaps kissing between the neck and the breast), it would be "read" as a demand to go all the way, resulting in a near-total stoppage of intimacy because apparently (from body language, mind you, NEVER from verbal expression) my rapacious, aggressive, MALE tendencies would make me quite the grumpy little camper if "teased". Looking back, having to deal with engendered terms of expressions and subjects that were not my own was maddening (and also that I personally experienced one of the best talking points of feminism, in "reverse"!). I must admit turning from "okay" to "not okay" seemingly on a dime almost every time we were in bed grew disappointing and frustrating (not to mention the guilt! Imagine the only woman you've ever loved and who you trust the most telling you you're maybe even 1% a rapist. Stomach-churning. Makes you want to cut your dick/cock off). She's long gone now, but it took me a while to realize I wasn't the only one who wasn't perfect. It took me much longer because I thought with the particular way my peers/society think the perpetual state of revolution of feminism should go, I would not be allowed to express any problem involving a woman, because I was automatically in the wrong, being the one to make advances and not to deny them. I thought I couldn't speak without being judged as just another gray-rapist chauvinist pig. I seemed to have "forgotten" proper sexual etiquette, not trusting myself to simply be myself like the first magical times we had sex, and to a certain extent this made me reluctant to pursue new romantic/sexual relationships. For the first time in my life I hated and/or feared women. Who wants to crush a flower (and, hopefully not, find all those spines, tendrils, and noxious gases used as defense mechanisms)? It's been a long road, but with the help of my "heretical" Christian faith and magic rituals involving tryptamines, I'm starting to come back into my body and forgive myself and Womanhood at large. An important thing I would like to share that helped me move forward is that I realized something about feminism. Feminism in the most general meaning of the term is brilliant, healthy, and vital. However, NOT ALL FEMINISM IS CREATED EQUAL. Men and Women alike must bravely challenge those who claim "feminism" as a shroud to cloak their hateful, insecure, erroneous, or otherwise malfeasant statements in an unloseable argument: that virtually all the raping, killing, and enslavement in this world is done by men. It's working quite well for those "feminists." It's not hard to understand why. Haven't you heard the saying that behind every great man (in history, these great men are often warmongers and slave owners) is an even greater woman? Perhaps we should put our money where our mouths are with that one. I am the voice Man saying to Woman "not all of us men are guilty of this (whatever this is). Most of you women won't be victims. Not one of us humans is innocent." I am an example of the crisis of masculinity going on today. Whether I am a good or bad one, I do not know. I do know that my son will always be taught to love, respect, protect, and befriend women. My daughter will never be taught to hate and fear men.