Sat down to write a lengthy entry, but have just decided on this:

The river is loaded
I’ve been there today
took it some questions
she does me again
I’d die in your arms
if you were dead too
here comes a lie
we will always be true

Marylin Monroe

Pam Anderson:

Cindy Crawford:

Beyonce:

Shakira:

Scarlett Johansson:

Jennifer Lopez:

Rihanna:

And yeah, I know a woman like Angelina Jolie is very skinny , yet desirable, but she probably has the most gorgeous face on the entire planet, eyes that could short-circuit your nervous system, and a mouth that I won’t even bother speaking on.

Anyway, my point is that curvy women have always been in and have always been desirable. Modern society has never catered to the very thin runway model types, “rail-thin” people, or fat people.

So now we can stop the horseshit curves cliche that is alienating women who’re naturally skinny; women who have eating disorders; women who are overweight; and women who have glandular issues. It’s a fucking disgrace.

I don’t know, just symbolic stuff. Things which represented them. These are the four people I’ve lost since last June.

Grandfather:

Friend:

Friend:

Grandfather:

These aren’t photos of any of them. Like I said, they just sort of symbolically represent a powerful part of the people they were. It’s hard losing folks. For me, someone dying isn’t the worst part. The finality and knowing you’ll never see them again is. And usually this hits me weeks or months down the road.

Puts life into perspective though; and in this last year, I think I’ve gotten perspective that won’t slip through my fingers like it has in the past. We’re mortal and we should really start acting like it.

I’ve been standing for human rights my entire adult life. Most recently (past 3-4 years), I particularly stand for the now-almost-extinct North American Indian. I’ve always loved animals and treated the ones I owned very well, but never delved very deeply into the animal rights thing; always supported causes or donated, but never was very proactive. Recently, however (last 4 months), I’ve been volunteering at a farm/animal sanctuary, and it has really opened my eyes.

Every time I marvel over the intelligence of an animal (cows, pigs, horses, squid..anything), some asshole feels the need to tell me how nice they’d look on their dinner plate or how great they taste with garlic sauce. Yeah, and your condescending, sarcastic, smug face would look terrific at the end of my fist. Tasteless of me to say this? Maybe so. But not as tasteless as the aforementioned assholic remarks hurled at my feet every time I utter anything about animal rights or the intelligence of a particular animal.

I’m not asking anyone to be a vegetarian as that would be hypocritical of me, because I eat chicken and tuna. What I’m doing is asking for animals—all of them— to be treated more humanely, and for us to appreciate what we eat. And really, do we need to torture, torment, claustrophobically-cage, and slaughter intelligent, social animals for clothing and soaps and candles? The answer is no. Remember the American Indians I mentioned in the opening paragraph? Check out how much they appreciate the wildlife that fed them.

The fact that many people make shitty, thoughtless jokes about the slaughtered animals that feed them, instead of appreciating the gift given to them, really pisses me off. People get rightfully vexed about puppy mills, yet it’s okay to joke about the inhumane treatment of pigs (who are far more intelligent than dogs)? Some would call me an “animal rights nut” for promoting the humane treatment of these beasts, but it’s normal and sane and a-okay to joke around about slaughtering a social species?

Fuck that.

I’ll get this out of the way now: possibly I’m a hopeless romantic. I’m a dude who likes The Notebook, after all.

I think that if you love a person, you love them no matter what they’re doing (for the most part. Can’t be a doormat); what mood they’re in; what troubles they’re having; how up and down they are; the struggles they have; even how badly they sometimes treat you. And that it never goes away. Ever. It’s a lot of pride swallowing to make even something great work, because there isn’t anything perfect. And for fuck’s sake, I don’t think I’d want anything perfect. If you can’t learn to at least accept flaws and insecurities, there’s something damn wrong with you.

In my mind, the courtship never ends. You should never stop trying to sweep your lady off her feet or trying to make her feel as good as you possibly can. And you should never stop supporting her. And don’t get too jealous. When you get stagnant, you try to recognize it and change it as soon as possible. To me, this is “manning up.” A good woman deserves this treatment if, for nothing else, the horrors and inequalities they’ve suffered for centuries. Call them queens, call them your princesses, call them goddesses, call them whatever endearing thing you want to call them. Just do it right. It’s better that way.

Though, I do have to feel comfortable; there has to be a certain level of comfort. I have to be able to be bored with the person, and actually enjoy it. I can’t feel as if it will fall apart at any time. When that happens, it’s a problem and things need to be reconsidered.

You know what we really want, more than anything (I think)? To be loved and respected by you, and to always be the one you’re most in awe of and blown away by. We want to be your damn hero.

Well, that’s about all. It’s more than I set out to write, and hopefully not painfully cheesy. Ah, fuck it. It’s cheesy enough anyway, so I might as well add a little more cheesiness to it.

I suggest you find someone who is a “professional” runner to do your runs with. Someone who does marathons, sprinting, triathlons—anything of that sort.

I’ve been into fitness and exercise and martial arts for years now. I cross-train in several areas to achieve maximal fitness and health. One problem I always had was running. Why? Shin splints, knee pain, and even problems with my hips.

That changed when I started running, very recently, with a woman who has completed marathons. She showed me how to stride, how to land (never with a heel strike), where to keep your center of gravity, how to swing my arms, and even how to breathe.

It has paid dividends. Now I’m able to run much farther, with good company, and no pain. The most important lesson she’s taught me is probably the fact that you should never land with a heel strike.

This will be quick.

Want to know what made me realize sexism was still alive in the west, besides the fact women make less than men do? It wasn’t the feminist movement, or someone hollering a point into my ear, or anything of the sort. (I kind of put a deflective wall up against collectivists, usually. Don’t mean to, it’s just how I work for whatever reason.)

What made me really realize this was, over the course of many years, seeing random women genuinely surprised that I spoke to them as equals and not from a position of masculine superiority. I’m 28. This didn’t even dawn on me until I was maybe 25. I wish it had been earlier.

That’s all.