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