I need to come up with a catchy title...

Okay, so let me start off with this... I have this odd theme that reoccurs in my dreams... I know, I know... I won't describe in depth what happened in my dreams because that's stupid. There's only a few exceptions to this (and no, you're not one of these exceptions), but no one wants to hear what happened in your fuckin' dream. Anyway, back to my dreams... the odd theme is rattlesnakes hiding throughout my house or just tons of rattlesnakes in the streets. Luckily, I usually have a machete close by... in the dream. I couldn't bring my machete to Turkey. I feel less Puerto Rican without it, but it's awkward justifying to airport security why I'm carrying a dull hunk of metal.

Possibly the most Puerto Rican thing other than...

Yep... that's super Puerto Rican... shit, I want plátanos...

 Anyway... ummm... I don't think I'm afraid of rattlesnakes. It's not like a nightmare. It's more of a quest that doesn't have any pay off besides... you know... dead rattlesnakes. Weird...

So, I've been going full-tilt boogie into Turkish (people still say full-tilt boogie, right?). So, there's good news for would-be residents of Turkey; it's not a difficult language... sorta. They have some German-sized words because of how the language is (It's agglutinative. I know what you're thinking... no, it doesn't have gluten in it.). I might as well learn it though. Shit, no one here speaks English, and it's hard enough getting a girlfriend when you're only game is staring intently, licking your lips, and pointing at your penis. Grunting aggressively, believe it or not, doesn't go well (weird, I know).

  

You know how they say "speak of the devil, and he appears." Weeeeeeell...

The girl appeared. She appeared with vengeance. I mean... not vengefully. I kinda just like using the word "vengeance" because it seems like it belongs in a sequel, and I picture my life as a series of box-office failing movies. 

Anyway, I was thinking earlier today, "you know, she doesn't want me to see her right now. if she wanted me to see her, she'd just show up." Less than an hour later... Poof... there she was.

My guess, her other guy finally decided to drop her (ehhhhhhh, probably not), or she just means to use me to make him jealous. Some girls love the drama. Meh. 

She must not know who I am.

Look, I can forgive. Not so much about forgetting quite yet. And why should I? That shit was last month! Wait... I'm going to pretend like I'm actually checking...

While you wait for me to pretend-look...

I laughed so hard that my dick hurt

Yeah, it was last month... anyway, so there she is... just standing there. Waiting for me. Staring (and not in a creepy way... God, I really wished it was a creepy way). At first, it took me a second to register who the fuck it was, then I got that drop in my stomach. Don't worry... I didn't poop myself. In fact, once I collected myself (it took half a second), I halted my shaking and just greeted her like nothing happened between us. Yeah, I know it's a game, but that's how it has to be sometimes. I don't like games. They're stupid, but if everyone is playing and you refuse, you don't end up being above it all... you just end up being really bad at the game. It's like football (American football... not soccer... I mean football... I mean... GOD DAMMIT, AMERICA! WHY DO WE EVEN CALL OUR FOOTBALL FOOTBALL?! WE DON'T PLAY IT WITH OUR FEET!). Sure, you can be like, "Nah, bruh. I ain't playing that shit," but you're on the field and they are still gonna tackle yo ass (I know, it's technically "your ass," but it makes me think that they are actually just tackling your butt... and that's weird and not at all what I'm saying. Your ass is not being singled out and tackled.). 

When you live outside of America, games are a must. Sure, there are people who don't play games here, but I'm kinda limited in finding them on account of my work schedule and my crippling inability to speak Turkish. Moving on... suffice to say, I played well. She wasn't expecting it. How do I know? Her wide-eyed look like I caught her off guard. You know how you play a scenario in your head, especially with someone you like or love or close to? Sometimes you just a little off, but you can rebound and adapt. She did not expect any of what I did. She didn't expect me to smile and ask her where she had disappeared to since the last time I saw her (about a week ago).  During this, I had to fight the temptation to boop her nose while she stared silently at me in shock. (I shoulda done it... my one regret.) Then, I told her that I had to work, but if she wanted to talk to me she should just text me. "You still have my number in your phone. Just text me. Tamam mı?" (Okay? in Turkish... which blew her fucking mind that I said it so casually).

I believe we call that the Bait-and-Switch... actually... I have no idea if that is a definition of a Bait-and-Switch... I think it has to do with fishing... I could be wrong... I'm probably wrong... fuck fishing.

Do I really want her to text me? Yeah, but again, this is a game. It's her move. I just gotta wait. She came to me and expected me to be putty in her hands. Part of me has closure already. She's become predictable. So, let's rewind a little bit... *rewind sound*... *hang my head in shame of being so lame*...

The dude she was messing with is... uhhhhh "preoccupied" but is also a Turkish coworker of mine. So, right on. She told him about me and her. Why? Because games, dude. Pay fuckin' attention. Now, she is still totally a love addict, but now that I know that, it's a lot easier to predict her. So, dude-buddy-mc-casserole decides to drop her the first time at the same time I freaked out. Now, there wasn't any animosity between me and dude-dude-magrude. We weren't buddy-buddy to begin with, but he was really awkward around me. It began to ease recently when he knew I didn't hate him... until about a week ago when I saw her again. And wouldn't you know, it was obvious. I saw him the day before then, and the shame was on his face. I knew what was up before I even saw that she was in our side of town again. Tsk Tsk Motherfuckin' Tsk.

Dr. Who is giving me a major Sonic Screwdriver

It was like that all week. The guilt, the shame, all of it written on his face until yesterday. His face was relieved. Of course, he broke things off with her again. Guy is SERIOUSLY "preoccupied," cough cough nudge nudge tickle tickle... wink... this is awkward now.

Anyway, that leads us to why I was thinking "if she wants me to see here, and she will show herself."

Ta-dah. Predictable now. Sooooo, I'll probably just level with my coworker. I don't want him caught off guard; plus, this is part of the game. Confused yet? Good. To my non-white readership... you guys probably know what I'm talking about. You gotta be tactile about this shit. I know, I know... you probably hate this shit just as much as I do, but it's how it is. To my white readership, things can be socially complicated within cultural dynamics. Here... have some saltines. Shhhh... calm down. Who's my big boy? You are!

Yes, You are! Yes, You are!

So, what's the goal? To cut through all the bullshit. Clear and simple. She is going to try to convince me to take her back. It's a win-win for her. She pisses off dude-coworker-Turkalot (and may get him back), and she has me if it doesn't work out (hopefully, with me none-the-wiser). I'm not too crazy about those outcomes. All I want is to end things cordially or as close as I can get it to that. And dude-buds-fignewton is just trying to survive and not fuck his own asshole.

Now, there is only one hitch in my plan that can ruin everything... Can you guess what it is?

Yep, my penis.

Surprise.

I don't feel like finding a picture so this will have to do...

<===3

Is your mouth watering yet? Good.

I can already hear it talking to me... "Yo man, I get it. She did you wrong, but you can do some crushing." "Yo, maybe you can make her a 'special buddy.' Just keep her in line or don't get all caught up with feelings and shit."

You have no idea how appealing those ideas are. I mean, if you're a guy, it's not hard to imagine... I guess, it's pretty easy to have a semblance of an idea of how appealing those ideas are. I don't know why I assumed I was special... Meh.

So, hopefully, I play this right... Oh and I saw Star Wars. IT WAS EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED AND MORE! PEW PEW! FWOOO FWOOO! 

I think I'll write about Star Wars next week. Yeah, that'll be good.

Another one of these is due right around now...

It's that time of the week again. Yep, that's right! Blog update time!... You didn't know that was a thing, did you? Well, it is... I know, you're busy, but-... Okay, I understand...

Should I do a weekly update of my week (guess what? nothing happened.) or just ramble on for the sake of rambling.

Can you guess which one?

But, what to ramble about? Middle East politics? Racial and gender equality? Civil rights? Historical inaccuracies? The magic of Turkish toilets?

Well, maybe all of them... I don't know. I'm kinda just writing at this point.

So, I have this private student. She is a journalist, who is now unemployed because of criticizing the government. If you think that is harsh, I want you to stop. You don't think that happens in America? Hell, you don't think that happens in the West, in general? How many journalists at major newspapers or media sources do you see/read openly criticizing Israel (not their actions in war, but their government policies) and offering a one-state solution? I'll wait...

Did you find any? Probably not. Here's another one... no one in America heard about this leaked phone call between Assistant Secretary of State for Europe Victoria Nuland and the American Ambassador to Ukraine Geoffrey Pyatt. This came out before the "revolution" (coup, in reality) in Ukraine. They are planning who will take power, which is a bit odd because neither of them is Ukrainian nor should have any say in said matters. So, Ukraine gets a new government after what is obviously a CIA or other American-backed coup of a sovereign, democratic nation, and the media immediately focuses on Russia's actions. Then, we have some woman quit RT (Russia Today) on air because she can no longer lie to the American people... Really? Where were the people quitting on air during the Iraq War? Every media outlet lied to the American people. What happened after she quit? It was all over the other outlets, aiming to discredit RT, which is the only news outlet that Americans have access to that gives an actual opposing view to the mainstream media. It doesn't fall in line as it should; just like al-Jazeera didn't fall in line with the Iraq War story. Don't worry, al-Jazeera is now back in line with the rest, but not so much with RT. God bless RT.

Come on, America! He's out-American'ing us!

 

So, moving on, I love this student in particular because, although her English skills are limited, her brilliance transcends the language barrier. There is one topic that I somewhat disagree with her with. That is the topic of feminism.

Now, I want it to be known... I am a feminist. However, there are many types of feminists. Unfortunately, the ones paraded around nowadays are what we call "Tumblr feminists." These sorts are always going on about "microaggressions" and "triggers." I don't have time for that shit. It's closed-minded and totalitarian. I'm only interested in political, social, and economic equality... well, I mean, I'm for more than just that, but whatever... moving on...

At the same time, there isn't a one-size-fits-all approach to issues regarding feminism... unless it's my penis. And let me tell you... it ain't no "micro" aggression.

I have many feminist friends back in Atlanta, and they come from a wide variety of cultures and religions. All of them are strong and independent. None of them really give two shits about trivial things like "microaggressions" because the problem isn't the behavior of individuals; it is a cultural problem. Two of these women come to mind, both are Muslim. Yes, they also wear hijab (one doesn't anymore, and I respect her decision either way). You see, what some feminist groups don't get is that feminism doesn't manifest in one way. Yes, if a Muslim girl is forced to wear hijab, then by all means stand with her, but understand, too, that some choose to wear it. The purpose of feminism isn't to "liberate" all women individually. Just like with other civil rights causes, the end goal is to establish a system that gives women equal opportunity to success, choice, and happiness. People will complain and say they get special treatment, but equality and fairness are not "everyone gets the same thing." How is that equal or fair? 

Give two families $1000 a month. One is a middle-class, two-parent family, and the other is working-class, single-parent family. The first family doesn't necessarily need the $1000. It's still nice, but  not much changes. For the working-class family, that $1000 is rent, food, a car payment, etc. That's one less extra job, that's having the ability to pick your child from school, that's enlisting your kid in extracurricular activities, etc. Hell, it may even be the extra cash you need to go to further education. Who knows. Even though the two families got the same treatment, it isn't equal. It is totally based on need. One family needs it more than the other. Women need certain things men don't. Whether it is affordable (in some cases, free) feminine hygiene products, birth control, and OB/GYN visits, or mandatory-paid maternity leave, women need to have these options available to them in society, so that they can be truly equal. And don't pull some Social Darwinian bullshit. 

Look, I'm Muslim, and despite what other Muslims (ahem... Saudis) may say, I can find just as much evidence (if not more) for these kind of reforms than I can for dominating over women. For me, the message is clear: As a man, I am supposed to care for women and guard their rights from oppression or usurpation. I'm not saying that men and women are the same. We don't necessarily have the same roles. I am saying we are equal, and as equals, I need to guard that equality. 

I'm not calling for shari'a; that's a different matter all together. I want secular change in law and in our cultures that guarantee women's equality and support women in case of infractions made against them. Simple, right? 

So, that's about all I got for now. Yay!

weekly commentary commencing... in 3... 2... 1...

A lot has happened in the last week... I think the last time I wrote was a week ago. It's been a blur. Winter came to Turkey, and now, I have a stuffy nose. Oddly enough... this impairs my thinking. I'm not a scientist, so it may all be in my head... What the fuck am I talking about? I have a blog! Nothing is just in my head! EVERYTHING I SAY IS FACT!!!

I'm not sure why this exists... but I'm glad it does

So... we had two mass shootings in the States. I mean, I live in Turkey... so... we shot down a Russian plane and said it crossed into Turkish territory... I mean it didn't, but we say it did. You know... because of a certain person in the government being involved with buying ISIS/Da'esh/Da'ouche-Bag oil...

Erdoğan right now to Putin

(Spoiler Alert: He totally is buying that oil.)

I hope to God they don't deport me... 

But, back to the US mass shootings... YAY!

Now, I'm not saying the San Bernardino shooting wasn't an act of terrorism, but bear with me here... a ultra-right white man shoots up a Planned Parenthood, and that doesn't qualify the title 'terrorist?' Come on, people. He tried really hard; he should at least get a slight nod that we might consider him a terrorist. We even call that one guy who tried to sneak an underwear bomb on a plane a terrorist, and he didn't kill a single person... if anything, all he was terrorizing was fashion. The gays are furious.

"On my sthignal, unleash hell, girls!"

Anyway, so I was eating breakfast the other day... well, yesterday... but that's an other day by definition. Fuck you. I teach English... where was I? Oh yeah, so I start every morning with some plain yogurt mixed with jam and honey (yeah, are your nipples hard yet?) and some toast with margarine and honey. So, I gotta be 100% real with you guys... that shit is fuckin' amazing, especially the toast. Unfortunately for my American readers, the food you eat isn't really food. Sorry, guys. Come over here to Turkey. Eat the food. Bring some tissue. It's okay if you cry... it's like that one scene in the Matrix when Neo awakens in the real world, but instead of seeing a shitty distopian hellscape, your taste buds will be escaping the nightmare, only to realize that your visa expires in 3 months and you must return to the land where men shit in jars and label it "organic tapioca." I'm not even going to bother googling for an image to use as filler in between paragraphs...

So, instead, think about this!
If you're reading this just reflect that at one point, your father's penis has been in mother's mouth. Remember all those good night kisses. Yeah. DICK GERMS! Let that sit... much like your father's penis did in your mother's mouth. Right now, you're probably envying those who are adopted. You may be asking why you would envy the adopted... (cool band name, by the way: Envy the Adopted)... As long as they don't have siblings that came out of their adopted mother, there is no physical evidence that any sort of sexual activity has occurred between their two parents. Even if they have physically seen their parents perform coitus (using technical terms makes this so much worse... I'm reveling in this), it could have been an illusion. They don't know. Their adopted parents could have been magicians before adopting. They will never know, will they? I know my parents weren't magicians. I was an egg in my mom and a sperm in my dad's balls, so in a sense, I would know if they were magicians or illusionists because I WAS THERE!

Anyway, so back to my breakfast... honey... honey... delicious, nutritious (it is actually very nutritious, believe it or not... no, I'm serious. This isn't a joke. Dammit, I'm the boy-who-cried-wolf.), amazing. Here's the problem... it comes from an animal. As does yogurt... but yogurt can sit down and shut the fuck up right now, can't he? Fuckin' right... You goddamn fuckin' right!

This leads me to my logical question... can vegans eat honey? I know they aren't technically animals (vegans... not bees. Bees are totally animals.). Since vegans don't eat byproducts of animals (Bee spit is totally in honey; stop pretending you don't know.), do they deny themselves the magic that is honey. I wonder if there are some vegans that try to justify their consumption of honey. To those vegans, HONEY IS FUCKIN' MURDER! How do you live with yourself?

Anyway, I've always had a problem with vegans. Not because they are usually self-righteous middle-to-upper class white people... I mean, it doesn't help... but I have a problem with them because their choice is due to really one out of two reasons. Either they really FUCKIN' love animals and/or the environment or they do it out of health reasons. So for those who do it for animals... eh, yeah, whatever... as for the environment, wanna know what will also help the environment? Fuckin' regulating big agriculture and the meat industry. Want to know why meat is so unhealthy? Maybe, it's because what you have in America isn't really meat. Maybe, it's because the industry can dye and bleach the meat. I don't know. Maybe, it's the hormones jammed up that poor steer's ass during its miserable life. The real problem is that the people who can make substantial political change *ahem* white middle-to-upper class *ahem* always focus on "personal choices." "I'll be vegan because it isn't socially or environmentally responsible." Well, that's nice, but what about us poor folks that can't walk to the nearest Whole Foods? And what about GMOs? And what about corporate transparency in an industry that people need to survive? What about a comprehensive list of government standards? Why is shitty food so cheap, and why do people who make shitty food get government subsidies? Bet you never asked those questions... no, you were too busy thinking about soy. You wanna be responsible? How about you organize some shit and start demanding reform from the government because- let's get serious- the government doesn't listen to white trash, spics, and niggers. Juuuuuust saying.

Holy shit... that all came outta left field. I was not planning a rant.


Where was I? Ummm... this is awkward now. I need to close this out...

It's been some time...

Let's start this entry off with the standard silly picture... let's see...

Easily my favorite GIF of all time

Alright, so last I talked (wrote... whatever), I was going through issues the girl. No, she isn't back in my life. I know... I know... Me being gay is still a distinct possibility, but let's get serious, there is nothing wrong with being gay. I would totally  be gay if... well... you know... men could give me an erection. "But why can't you be a bottom?" some of you are asking. (If you weren't asking that, you are now. My blog, my rules.) Well, I'd be a sad, lazy bottom... No one wants a lazy bottom. 

...and I mean no one.

You go girl.

 So, where have I been this last week or more... or I don't know... period of time? Whatever. We'll go with period of time.

Honestly, I've been doing a mixture of obsessing and grieving. Don't worry, it's cool now. I've moved on... I mean, does it hurt a little bit? Yeah, it hurts a little bit, but I have a great network here that I talk to. I learned a bit more about the girl, and it's better that I stay away from her.

So, I always dismissed "love and sex addiction." Being a recovering drug addict and alcoholic, I have this sort of superiority complex when it comes to addiction. I can't speak for my fellow recovering addicts, but I totally have this going on. The most I could say is that I sort of understood sex addiction, but I always figured it was a byproduct of over-religious people hating their genitals.

Kinda like that...

I never thought one could be addicted to love. I couldn't even comprehend how one could get addicted to love. What DOES THAT EVEN LOOK LIKE?!

Well, I found out. It looks like someone engaging in several serious relationships simultaneously. This would be fine if everyone was in on it... I guess... Maybe not, but whateves. There are lies, manipulation, and a double life- sometimes more than a double life. It isn't about sex either. Sure, sex can be involved, but the important thing is the love and the relationship. That's the fix.

Usually, I am good at picking up bullshit... Not physically picking up bullshit... well, also not physical bullshit... I mean, I know when people are lying. When you've done it so much, you become an expert. I'm usually really good at it even when I have a lot of emotional investment in the person. I actually prided myself, back in the day, on how well I could hide stuff. I used the "out-in-plain-sight method." Actually, now that I think about it... I kinda sucked at lying... but no worry, I still prided myself on it. Weird.... where was I? Oh, yeah. So, select honesty and the "out-in-the-open" method work wonders... I mean, it totally eats away at your soul, but it still works wonders.

I know I'm not giving much detail here, but suffice to say, the girl was dishonest with the men she engaged with. The payoff was their love. Others will just call her a slut or say that she just loves drama. That doesn't sit right with me. The next logical question should always be "why." Why does she do the things she does? Why engage in- frankly- dangerous behavior? Just sleeping around is one thing. That carries its own dangers, but getting people emotionally involved and attached can be a lot more dangerous... you know, things like murder and stalking. I'm not saying she deserves that. Never, FUCKING NEVER. But, ideals and reality rarely meet. 

Is my analysis accurate? Is it the truth? Fuck if I know. It just makes sense to me. It lets me sleep at night and accept things the way they are. Was I played? In a way, but there was a certain genuineness there that I can't ignore. So, what can you do but just accept things the way they are, right?

Moving on...

I'm tempted to talk about the whole Russian plane being shot down by Turkey fiasco... buuuuuuut, I like living in this country, so I'll keep silent about it because I don't want to pop up on any government list. Suffice to say, I think it's just a ruse that was greenlighted by the US or the Turkish leadership attempting to draw NATO more into the Syria. Russia is kicking serious Da'ish and an-Nusra ass, and now, it's a little bit embarrassing for the NATO countries because Russia has accomplished so much in such a little time while NATO has been "attacking" them for over a year now. 

But, enough about women and Russia... or any combination of the two. How are classes? Well! I no longer feel like I'm winging it. I actually know what I'm doing, so that's a plus. It is always important to understand the whole course, not just your level. I've taught level 1, 2, 3, and 5. I know when certain verb tenses are introduced. I know how to properly teach these tenses... well, most of them. The book kinda sucks, but it isn't useless. It provides some extra exercises... if you have no intention on teaching abroad, I'm sorry for this paragraph... I should have warned you before writing it. I should have told you to skip this section. It was not going to very interesting, but it's too late now... I would've edited it, so this all goes at the beginning, but I have my strict no-editing policy that I randomly enforce upon myself when it is convenient. This is one of those convenient times. 

So, my good friend Adam came out with a video. Let me see if I can pull it up... will I pull it up? Meeeeeeeh, no... I take that back. No pulling up. I will link to his blog/website here. It is a new experimental social media concept. I have no been asked to contribute as of yet. Sure, I live thousands of kilometers (or miles... but let's use measurements that all the world uses). Sure, Right now, it's 8:02 AM where they are; whereas, it is 3:03 PM here in Istanbul. Sure, we all have jobs. But, I have not been asked... nor have I asked... SO THIS IS WAR! 

So, they want a social media concept? Bam! I got one! Wait... I need to use Microsoft Paint for this... It'll take some time... ummm... nevermind... I'll just explain it... let's see... 

Ta-Dah! Title's fancy as fuck.

1. You can share Youtube, Vine, Instagram, and other shit on it.

2. You can share how you think and feel through updating your status

3. You can even play fucking games on this shit (FUCKING GAMES, MOTHERFUCKER!)

4.You can comment and share other things other people post (IS YOUR MIND NOT BLOWN?!)

5. You can even chat with people. CHAT! THIS AIN'T NO AIM OR YAHOO MESSENGER, BITCH! YOU WANT SMILEYS? WE GOT FUCKIN' SMILEYS! ;) WINKY FACE, BITCH!

6. You can connect with people that hold similar interest. Do you like dogs? Bam! Do you like dressing up your dog? DOUBLE BAM! Do you like dressing up like a dog and fucking other people dressed like other animals? WE GOT THAT SHIT, TOO!

7. You can reconnect with people that you haven't seen in, like, fucking forever. Yeah, that one girl who you liked in 3rd Grade? Yeah, she's on here! And guess what? She got some titties now, been divorced two times, and still hungry for the D.  Get on top of that shit, man.

8. You can get misleading news and information and share it with friends and family. Did you just read that President Obama is really a Chinese woman in make-up working for the Triads in order to turn America into a giant human-cock-fighting ring? TELL THE WORLD THE TRUTH IT CAN'T HANDLE!

9. You can have more than one account. People don't believe you when you say you have a smoking hot girlfriend who is a softcore porn actress/ European model? BLAM! Make a new profile and have her like all your pictures and shit.

You're fucking Welcome

10. You can set up events with friends, but who the fuck wants to interact with other human beings face-to-face? I may not keep this option. No one will use it.

So, your move, Thoughtopsy! I'll end with a little interview with myself... ahem... how do I-

From Cabrón to Bobo

Soooooo, guess what I did?

Yep, fucked up the situation with the girl. How, you may be asking. Well, I'm here to explain in detail my fall from grace. Aren't you all lucky?

No. No, we are not lucky.

First, let me establish the background...

She and I were not a couple. Pretty simple, right. I mean, we had feelings for each other, but by no means were we in a committed relationship. You know, we were dating.

Go on...

So, what are the rules of dating? You can date more than one person at a time, and why not? You aren't in a committed relationship with anyone... it's a little thing called being single. Hell, you can fuck whomever and whatever you want, right? That's fine because you aren't in a committed relationship. If one of the people you are dating finds out about another one of the people you're dating and gets mad, you have the right to say "HEY, FUCK OFF! WE AREN'T TOGETHER! I DON'T BELONG TO YOU!"

Well... I kinda forgot about that... what's worse is I found out after these two had stopped dating, so it wasn't even relevant... And I kinda was a dick.

 WHAT ARE YOU, LON?! ALLERGIC TO HAPPINESS?!

By the way, this was a sure thing, too. We were going to spend some "time" at my place, and then talk about our relationship. All I needed to do was keep my shit together for two days. TWO DAYS. I was going to get sweet sweet booty and establish some sort of relationship with this girl.

So, what could possibly have gone through my mind... Weeeeeell, part of me needs to accept a few facts about myself. "What are getting at, Lon?" Hear me out... I have ADHD- I know, I know, it's over-diagnosed, and some say it's not a real thing, but hear me out. I ran out of meds on Wednesday. You see, part of me was curious to see what would happen. My doctor appointment was on Friday, so I just had to make it one day. How hard could that be?...

Well, it wasn't bad at first. It was a decent day, actually. I got to have lunch with this girl, and I was really happy. I went to class, taught, and that went well, too. Then, I found out about the other guy after class. Usually, I can hear information, deal with it logically, and not get too anxious about it (the other thing I have in an anxiety disorder, so it's important for me to do this because my medicine for that only goes so far.). Since, my concentration was all fucked up, that proved to be very difficult. By very difficult... I mean im-fucking-possible. It isn't that I can't concentrate without my medicine; it's that I can't choose what I concentrate on. Because I can't take my mind off of bothering news, I can't rationally think about it; I can't pause to allow different perspectives. What I said wasn't too bad. I brought up some concern, and she told me not to think too much on it. (Whatta bitch, amiright?)

The next day, my concentration was shit. The medicine from Wednesday was completely out of my system. I went to my psychiatrist appointment and struggled to put thoughts together; then, I felt like an idiot for struggling so hard, raising my anxiety and making me more nervous. Being nervous doesn't really allow one to concentrate all that well, so my thoughts got more jumbled. You know what we call that? A shitstorm.

Just pretend the sharks are giant pieces of poo.

Luckily, I got my prescription... by the way, three months of this medicine is $90. In America, at half price, it is $500... 

Anyway, where was I? Uhhhh... Oh, yeah... so, I took my medicine, but I was still emotionally shook up. I needed to give the medicine time to take effect, so I could figure out what was going on and lower my anxiety... So, as you can imagine, that didn't happen. In hindsight, I'm like "yeah, duh, bruh... should've been patient," but that's the thing; I could only focus on my intense emotions and anxiety. All I wanted to do is to make those feelings stop, so I followed impulse. That means telling her that I don't want to see her, and I know the truth, and I should never have been with her. You know, typical Friday afternoon behavior that you do to people you are developing intense feelings for. 

"But, your problem went away when your meds kicked in, right?"

No, you silly bastard. No, they did not.

You see, all my thoughts seemed legitimate. I had to basically spend some time dealing with the all the errors in the "backlog" (it's a metaphor... see what I did there). At that point, I was also sorta panicking because I needed to fix all the stupid things I did, which makes the the fixing not very effective because I was still sorting out my thoughts and feelings. Luckily, sleep allowed me to do a majority of the sorting as well as talking with friends here... but mostly, sleep to be honest.

I've done my best now to set things right, but there is a chance that it's broken beyond repair. That's alright, though. What else can I do? Time will tell. So, let's move on to the internal turmoil...

YOU SHUT YOUR WHOREMOUTH!

 

So, I'm Puerto Rican... remember?... good... and we have this thing called "machismo." Basically, it's kinda like bushido (the samurai code of honor... "NERRRRRRRRRD"), but it's way sillier and less self-embowelment-happy. Essentially, it about always having a manly reputation...

An example.

Carlos: Only women drink mixed drinks.

Juan: Pshhhh, I don't drink no mixed drinks. I don't even drink straight liquor. That shit's for patos [gay men],brodel [bro].

*Carlos and Juan proceed to huff gasoline in the garage for twelve hours out pure manliness.*

Now, in the above example, did Juan and Carlos really want to huff gasoline? No... Carlos wanted a Sex-on-the-Beach, and Juan wanted Carlos to watch him jerk off, but that shit isn't manly, so they do stupid shit they perceive as manly.

So, the biggest insult to one's manhood is to have horns.

You callin' me a bitch, bro?

 

No, not literal horns. Having horns (cornudo) means your girl sleeps with other men. That is why, in Puerto Rico, cabrón is an insulting word for a man. Mexico doesn't use it like that, and so, it is weird... sorry, Mexico, but all of us have brought you here because we all agree that you need to get your shit together. 

What is a cabrón, then? Well, a cabro is a goat. Goats have horns. A cabrón is a really big goat... and really big goats have really big horns. Sorry to any of my goat-readers... I'm sure your wives are faithful.

So, my first thought when finding out about the other dude she was dating was that I was a cabrón in the eyes of my peers. I know some of my American (read: white) readers won't really get this concept, but to everyone else, reputation within a community is important. Yes, be a free spirit and don't give a damn what others think, but that comes at a price. You sacrifice communal support for individualism, and that has it's own problems. It's only awesome when you have money and success, but when you have shit luck, you're on your own, buddy.

 

It was a very real feeling, though. I knew it was silly, but it's hard to shake that shit off, especially when you combine the unmedicated part.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I was being an idiot. This is a different kind of feeling that I'm sure all of us can relate to. We've all done dumb shit that we wish we could take back. Just think for a moment... Yes, that thing... Embarrassing, isn't it?... Sure, only you and hamster know the truth of that intimate evening together. But the hamster's dead now, and you have to carry that burden. May God have mercy on your soul.

(side note: please don't fuck hamsters)

Now, what I don't want is anyone telling me "Oh, I'm sorry, man... that sucks," or "Don't worry, there are other fish in the sea," or anything else like that. There is nothing wrong with my experience. There is nothing to be sorry for. There is nothing to worry about. Everything will be okay. I believe that. If you learned something, cool. I'm all for "Gee, Lon... I never saw it that way... Maybe, I shouldn't fuck hamsters." I'm totally fine with that. If you hope things work out for me, well, thanks then. I am going to assume you aren't a dick who feeds off of others suffering, so it's a given that you want what's best for me. 

Part of this post was therapy for me. I'm glad I could share it with the world... and by the world, I mean the few friends I have that read this. You're welcome. Now, I gotta proofread this shit before I publish it, so while I do that, here's a couple of neat snapchat experiences.

So, that's all for now. I'll be back next week...

I need a catchphrase...

Don't go fucking hamsters...

For a second, I thought I could do a weekly catchphrase, but a weekly catchphrase to a weekly blog is just a random sentence at the end of each post.

Fuck catchphrases.

 

I'm gonna go do shit now...

I'm Back with Vengeance

Hey, motherfuckers!

I'm back, bitches!

This post is a little late... I mean, I didn't say this was going to be a weekly thing, but yeah... it's a weekly thing. So, what has happened in a week? 

Well, I'm going to say not a lot... but I think a lot has happened. I could be wrong... We'll see, won't we. (Yeeeeeeth Weeeeeee Wiiiiiii-uhll)

COMMENCE SPARKLAGE!

Wow... that last gif (pronounced gif as in gift because fuck you, that's why) doesn't make any sense. It's a complete different train of thought... It's kinda distracting. Eh, whatever...

Maybe, I'm just avoiding talking about my week. I know what I want to talk about... but I'm going to hold back. Keep you guys wanting a little more. 

So, fuck health insurance companies. I purchased some international health insurance, only to find out that they don't cover preexisting conditions... which kinda makes my health insurance useless. I live in a country with socialized, affordable healthcare... Why the fuck would I pay these schmucks to go to a private hospital just to find out that they don't cover anything at the private hospital. I mean... it's fucking useless. So, I'm tempted not to pay them shit, but whatever... I'll uphold my part of the agreement because I don't want to deal with them. FUCK CIGNA INTERNATIONAL HEALTH INSURANCE. Hopefully, this gets a few hits when someone googles them.

Fuck them for real though... in their collective Scottish asses. Just Cigna... I am by no means condoning ass-fucking the Scottish. Only the Scottish involved in Cigna. I mean, if there are people that aren't Scottish who work for them, fuck them too. The company is just located in Scotland, so it should go without saying that most of them will be Scottish... Dress up like a sheep, they might enjoy the fuck is all I'm saying.

Yep... kinda like that

I should check if I still owe them money... eh...

Anyway, other than that, I don't think much happened... I've been spending some time with the girl, so you can stop asking if I'm gay, Dad! (note: I can't recall my dad ever suspecting me of being gay... but he totally thought I had Asperger's because I memorized the Arabic alphabet in a week. The only reason I found out was that my littlest sister told me that he had confided his suspicion to her. Apparently, my intrigue into Semitic languages places me on the autism spectrum... Way to go, me)

I might put a picture of the girl up here... I don't know though... what if we break up and I'm all like "SHE NEEDS TO GET OUT OF MY LIFE! SHE BROKE MY HEART!" and I do an ugly cry (the one where you make like a full frown with your mouth open and snot and spit are flowing down with the tears)? I mean... she could also google her own pictures like a crazy person (yes, only crazy people do this... stop doing this.)... I don't know, I'm still trying to feel her out... and fill her up (SUPER WINKY FACE, MOTHERFUCKER)

I know what you thinking... "super winky face? what's that?" Essentially, it's an Asian guy winking and grinning... let's see if the gods of Google will provide.

"Wait... that doesn't make sense." RACISM DOESN'T HAVE TO!

What's really fucked up is that some of you were totally like "Oh, a winking Asian guy... yeah, I guess that would be a super winky face..."

Where was I? Wait... did I go through all that because of one sexual innuendo? one moment... yep... yes, I did.

Did I mention I graduated Magna Cum Laude with a degree in History? Yeah? That's terrifying isn't it. 

Okay, so, today (Saturday) and yesterday, I went to the Asian side of Istanbul (no, it isn't like Chinatown...) to see my old professor from university. Since I keep everyone basically anonymous on here... except for Mo... hey, Mo... I'm gonna assign him a name... that name is Operation Balkan Boom-Boom (OB3 for short... if this catches on, I might achieve literal orgasm in my pants).

So, OB3 was in Istanbul for a Ottoman history conference, a conference that I went to... I don't know if I was allowed to, but if you shove an American passport in every security guard's face and shout loud enough, you'll get by just fine. I didn't do that, but I want to know if it works. If it does, try it again, but this time act belligerently drunk. 

boooorn in the USAAAAAAA!

Anyway, he had a good time. It was nice to see OB3, again. It was a little weird that it was halfway across the world the last time I saw him... Weeeeeeird

He was taking pictures of the food to piss off Mo. A man after my own heart... Hey, Mo.

We caught up, and unlike all the other times, I didn't go all fan boy with OB3 (I kinda did that a lot back when he was my professor...). I blew his mind when I told him about the Metro line that goes under the Marmara Sea. I also got a free meal out of this... I was most pleased. Most pleased.

Now, I gotta wait for some of you motherfuckers back in the States to come visit me. I'm not gonna beg. No really, I'm not. If you want to go your whole life stuck over that side of the Atlantic, good luck with that. You have no idea how much you're missing. 

My students are often in shock when I tell them that the reason I came to Turkey is simply because it isn't the US. Every day, I am reminded why I left and why I won't be returning. Turkey is by no means perfect. Let's get that straight. It has its share of corruption, lack of porn, problems, and lack of porn... but despite its problems and crippling lack of porn, it makes up for it with a wonderful, simple life. Plus, the women here are, like, stupid hot. And yes, there is crazy variety, too. Redheads, brunettes, blondes, pale, dark, olive, round eyes, almond eyes, big butts, little butts, big boobs, little boobs, curves, thin ones, and so on... I miss black people though... 

I miss you too, man

I mean, Istanbul has black people... but they're like African... I miss African Americans (you know, the ones that aren't from Africa, but we just call them African Americans because we want to make sure they don't ever get comfortable being full Americans... you know... like white people.).

So, tune in next week when I have more time to review my friend Adam's first video and create a video of my own. Will it have my penis in it? No... no, it will not. 

Watch me lose half my readership because I refuse to put my penis in front of a webcam. "Well, why the fuck am I reading this then if I'm not gonna see some Puerto Rican guy's cock and balls? God, I guess I've gotta go back to sniffing propane in the garage and jerking off to pictures of Gonzo from the Muppets."

Get it... his face looks like genitals

In Memory of a Borinqueneer

On Saturday, 24 October 2015, at around 7:00 AM EST, my grampa died. His name was Raul Guiot. He served in the US Army for 20 years. He fought in Korea and Vietnam. My grampa was an infantryman in the 65th Infantry Regiment, also known as the Borinqueneers.

This post is going to be a lot more informative than funny, but it's me; I joke about everything. I am proud to say that it is from this man that I got this trait. Whatever motto is on my family crest (Guiot), it is wrong. Our branch of the family's motto is "if you're not laughing, you're crying." 

And for some reason, we have Hezb colors and three parrots...

Now, I don't know how to properly do this. Obviously, I have a few feelings on the matter, but where to start on my reflections. Let's start with my first thoughts when I heard the news... agent orange.

You see, my grampa (as stated before) served in Vietnam. So, while the US was committing horrific war crimes by using harmful chemicals on enemy troops and the surrounding jungle (agent orange), infantrymen like my grampa were sent into the recently chemically-doused areas and clean up. Surprise, surprise, these soldiers got agent orange in their systems. Yeah, it would stay in their systems for the rest of their lives, my grampa included. That doesn't sit well with me. When he died of a heart attack, his exposure to agent orange came to mind.

In Puerto Rico, I have one uncle who also served 20 years in the military. Maurelín (my uncle) smokes around a pack a day and has for the last forty-something years, but was in the Air Force or Navy. He is still very much alive and kicking. Plus, he smokes Kools which are what you would think are the equivalent to agent orange. Moral of the story, I'm pretty sure agent orange had a part to play in his passing.

That's my grampa watching me (dressed like a gay, fashion-challenged sailor) play piano.

 

Just like anything else that happens in my life, I have reflected this event in the grand politics of the world. You see, my grampa and the rest of my Puerto Rican family are for the most part pro-statehood. I don't understand why, but they are. I am pro-independence. I have my reasons. One such reason is that I don't trust nor do I like the United States of America. The country has given me no reason to do so otherwise. My family feels differently, and I accept that. However, it is their lives and struggles (especially the life of my grampa) that helped form my view. It is because of my grampa that I am proud to be Puerto Rican.

The first of my mandatory Puerto Rican flags... only a couple hundred to go

 

 

I've been talking about what my grampa represents to me, not who he was. The real question is does it even matter. Was my grampa perfect? No. He did things that were very typical of a Puerto Rican man. He chased other women, drank to excess at times, amongst other things... I don't know if he repented for that, but his actions since I've known him suggests he did. Throughout his life, he shed away certain faults and kept traits that made him the man I knew. 

Am I sad that he is gone? A little. I was also a little surprised, but I know I'm fortunate. I am 26, and he is the first of my grandparents to die. I have three others (you know... because my dad has parents too). Not to suggest those three could at all replace him, even together. If I am to be honest, all three of them couldn't replace him. Despite who he was as a person, he meant the most to me out of all of them. 

Whenever I watch Vietnam movies or WWII movies, the battle scenes make me tear up because I think of him and the horror he had to endure for a country that didn't give a shit about him.

And here's Mel Gibson having an orgasm. This doesn't make me tear up... through my eyes.

(boner joke)

I am glad that he lived to see his great-grandchildren, that he was in my life, that he was able to die knowing that the family continued after him and that we were alright. In life, you can't ask for much, but knowing all that makes it a little better.

Anyway... here's a picture of my family with my grampa...

And here's just a funny picture I like...

See you guys next week.