Meeting Keith

I met a homeless man on Friday. I saw him before he even sought me out. Instantly, I judged him. He was dirty and had a slight limp. He was asking every person he passed on Church St. if they would buy him soup from one of the restaurants on the strip, and every single person said no. Some even crossed the road to avoid being asked. Even I, in my head made up my mind to say no before he even reached me. It was then I realized, that I in good conscience couldn't possibly say no. I pre-judged that man because he was homeless and dirty. I didn't even give him a chance. How could I possibly say no to someone in need? He wasn't asking for money. All he wanted was FOOD.
He finally made it to us now. He asked. I said yes. Instead of soup, we decided to walk together to the 7-eleven to get food there. I learned his name was Keith, but all his friends call him Speedy, probably out of irony lol. He was polite and thanked us over and over again for helping him. In the 7-eleven all he got was a can of tuna with crackers, chips and dip. Then he was on his merry way with more thank yous. $7 and a few minutes of my time is all that it cost me. I could have easily told him no that I couldn't help him. But, I know if I were in that position, all I'd want is for someone to take a chance on me. To take a chance and out of the kindness of their heart, help me. We all need to remember that, that homeless person begging for money/food....they are PEOPLE, before we turn our noses up to those we feel is beneath us. They are PEOPLE too, and WE are all HUMAN.

-Jaxx

MIA No More

Hey guys, I know it's been a while. A long while. I wish I could give a great explanation as to why I have been absent, but I cant. Simply put, I had lost my inspiration to write and the faith in myself as a “writer”. I felt that whether or not I wrote wouldn’t matter to anyone, and that one small voice amongst the millions in this blogger world would not be missed. But over these past few months, I realized how much I really needed it. I needed to get lost in world of words. Whether or not people read them doesn’t matter. The self-elation that I feel after writing and expressing myself exactly how I want, is all that matters. I understand that now. So, I am here to say that I am back and boy does it feel good.

-Jaxx

Remembering Your Beautiful

In a day and age like today, it is no wonder vanity and self esteem issues are skyrocketing and are parallel to each other. With social media being "all the rage", girls and boys, and even men and women, are suffering because of unrealistic ideas of attractiveness. "Selfies" and "filter" shots plague our feeds in a trend that only fuels our want for validation that we are in fact, beautiful in social medias eye. 

We strive for societies ever changing idea of beauty, and become self involved and vain if we feel we have "attained" that level of beauty. I am guilty of this. I am guilty of snapping a few dozen pics of me, trying to get it just right. I dont want to look too fat, have my face look too big..... and DEAR GOD IS THAT A PIMPLE?!?! In the end, out of a dozen or so shots/attempts, I get one post worthy picture that has been filtered the crap out of. But, you can bet that I am also guilty of totally tooting my own horn and feeling my ego grow exponentially if I feel that I look pretty in a picture. So very guilty. But, it shouldn't be that way.

Selfies, social media, and Photoshop has been the Regina George(Mean Girls reference, I apologize in advance) to my vanity and rocky self esteem. On bad days they were so cruel, but when I got those 11 likes on Instagram or nice comments on Facebook, we were the best of friends. But, I don't blame the selfie. I don't blame social media. I don't blame Photoshop. I blame MYSELF. I blame myself for thinking I ever had to try to attain the ever changing standard of beauty. I blame myself for looking in the mirror every day and finding things on my body that I wish to change, instead of finding what I love and what makes me uniquely ME. I blame myself for seeing a beautiful woman in a magazine or on my friends list and wishing I had her long legs in lieu of my average length ones, or her versatile mane versus my thick, barely manageable hair. Through all of my negative mental notes and discouragements I had of myself, I seem to have forgotten all the things I loved about me before the selfies, social media, and Photoshop. 

(This is my self esteem when I compare myself to other girls....)

I can not, in good conscience, help others recognize their own beauty and promote self love, if I allow myself falter at the whim of societies opinion. So, I am working on getting back to remembering all the things I love about me. In the effort of getting there, I created a list of things that I personally feel makes me uniquely beautiful inside and out:

1. My almond shaped eyes... for some people, I seem to be racially ambiguous or "exotic" because of them. Like I'm an alien or something.  But, I love them because I know that I share the same eye shape as people in my family and I feel special and connected to them through that similarity
2. My one dimple... I used to think my face was lopsided because of it, but now I think it's cute
3. My ears.... oddly small to some, curiously cute to others, absolutely normal to me
4. My laugh...a bit loud, but always genuine
5. My long fingers...I also love that they are called piano fingers even though the only thing on the piano I can play is Chopsticks.....barely
6. My skin tone...I was called light bright as a kid, but I now love my caramel colored skin
7. My height...I'm 5'6, and I used to be the tallest girl in my grade, but now I am one of the shortest in my circle of friends...also, my pants are too long most of the time.
8. My scar on my right thigh...a second and third degree burn scar due to spilling of soup. It kinda looks like a rabbit
9. My well proportionate "assets" ...nothing is too big or too small. I used to hate them because of unwanted attention
10. My humor...I love to laugh and make people laugh. It's one of the most rewarding things in life to be able to do in my opinion
11. My curiosity....although it has gotten me into trouble growing up, it has been worth it because of all the things I have learned along the way
12. My stubbornness...In many ways I seem to be "unreasonably unyielding" , but in a lot of instances I refuse to change. My dreams and my ideas wont change because society tells me I am wrong. I am stubbornly beautiful.
13. My honesty....I believe in being truthful even when the truth may be hard to handle
14. And lastly, my heart....I am nothing without the passion that drives me, the overabundance of the love I give and receive, and the amount of hope I put into the world, even if some find it naive. 

So there's my list. In the words of Lupita Nyong'o, "I hope that my presence on your screens and in the magazines may lead you, young girl, on a similar journey, that you will feel the validation of your external beauty but also get to the deeper business of being beautiful inside. There is no shade to that beauty." I am not famous. I do not grace the screen or magazines. But, I am someone who can relate. I do understand the struggle as an average person living in the times of the selfie, social media and photoshop, and because of that, I know it is time to change our mindset. Like Beyonce, we woke up "like dis". Like Lady Gaga, we were born this way. So, go back to remembering your beautiful. Forget about social media's unattainable standards of attractiveness. Forget about trying getting more likes, comments, and follows than your friends to validate your beauty. Remember to love yourself first and foremost. So make a list of all your UNIQUE qualities and remember to be your own kind of beautiful. 

-Jaxx

To Whom It May Concern

To all my Famous No One's, 

Going to be a little MIA for a while. I have my EMT(emergency medical technician for those of you not in the know) certification testing coming up soon, and I need every ounce of focus my ADHD mind can provide.Education always comes first for those who wish to progress in life. Wish me luck and send some positive energy out into the universe for me. Talk to you soon. 

Your Famous No One,
                                  Jaxx 



Post Script: This is Step Cat, and he says hello :)

We reached 3000 views!!!

We reached 3000 views!!! From the bottom of my heart I would like to thank everyone who has supported my blog by commenting, liking, sharing, or even viewing it. Thank you so much. 3000 views may not seem like a lot to most, but for me its huge. I started blogging back in October, and I never thought I'd reach 1000 views, much less 3000.This started out as a simple hobby, but it grew into something that I couldn't imagine not doing. It's become my passion and I plan on perfecting it over time. I hope you all continue on this journey with me and provide your support along the way :) 

Long live the Famous No Ones!!

-Jaxx

The Light Beyond the Neon Trees: Finding Myself in Music

Going through life, you can't help but to have a few milestones. Your first steps, your first kiss, landing your dream job, the list goes on. There are milestones in your life that creates memories and elicits more emotion than any of the others that predates it. The one that changed you for better or for worse. The one that you can't help but be transported back to that time at just the thought of it. That particular milestone for me transports me back to 7th grade,back to the steppingstone of my milestone. That was the year that began my discovery of rock; and then later, Neon Trees.

When I was younger, I did what most kids did. I tried to fit in. I wore similar clothing, watched the same TV shows, and listened to the same type of music. I grew up thinking and believing that’s how things were done. Your friends like Phat Farm and South Pole? You now like Phat Farm and South Pole. Disney Channel and Nickelodeon were the popular channels? You better not be caught dead watching PBS Kids. Same goes for music. I grew up on rap and good ole rhythm and blues; or as the “cool kids” call it, “R&B”.  That’s all my family and close friends listened to, so that is what I listened to. I had no idea who Aerosmith or Queen was; and my answer would be a big fat “nope” if you asked me if I knew about Tim McGraw. I wouldn’t be caught dead singing along to a Coldplay song (Viva la Vida will always be my favorite), but I could recite “Lovers and Friends” by Lil Jon and The East Side Boyz featuring Usher and Ludacris verbatim. Looking back on it now, the clothes and the TV shows were no big deal. I don’t really feel like I was cheating myself out of life just because I had to have the latest and the greatest flare jeans just like that one chick from class; or that I just HAD to watch “All That” on Nickelodeon so I had something to talk about with my friends the next day. I do; however, feel cheated out of great music. I missed out of the beginning of some amazing bands and artists, just because the people closest to me didn't listen to them, or frowned upon the genre. But, oddly enough the start of my musical awakening began BECAUSE I was trying to fit in. It all started with a boy.

In the 7th grade, I had a maddening crush on a boy in my reading class. You could even say that I ‘like liked’ him. For the sake of his privacy, lets call him D.D. D.D was the bees’ knee’s, the cats’ pajamas, the caterpillars’ spats, and the- ok, you get it. He was the berries. I had a super crush and was determined to get to the "next level" with him. I wanted that girlfriend status badly, and was willing to do anything to get there. So, I did what all the girly TV shows of my time told me to do. Dressed up extra pretty? Check (although it was hard to do because I was a major tomboy). Laughed at all his jokes? Check. Create similar interests? Big fat check. Through his friends, I found out that he was into punk and alternative rock. Imagine my befuddlement when I realized there was more than one type of rock. Through deeper digging, I find that one of his favorite bands was Linkin Park. So guess what my new favorite band was? Yep, Linkin Park. I can’t really be surprised now that this all started over a boy. But hey, he was cute and my hormones were ragin'. I listened to LP day in and day out; secretly of course. My friends and family was more Lil Wayne than Linkin Park, and I couldn’t risk being ridiculed or misunderstood. My child self esteem couldn’t handle that. The longer I listened, the worse I felt. I felt that I was wrong. I felt that I was wrong for listening to music people like me didn’t listen to. I felt wrong for LIKING music that people like me didn’t listen to. So, just like that, I stopped. While my crush raged on for D.D, my curiosity and budding love for new music fell by the wayside. 

Even though I went back to the familiar explicit raunchiness of rap and the soulful bliss of R&B; my curiosity for the edgy versatility of rock, rolled on. I remained curious. My determination to understand why people like me didn’t listen to rock, country, techno, and all the subcategories in between. Why did so many people reject listening to music that wasn’t in their social and familial circle? Why did people ridicule those who DID step out and listen to something that wasn’t considered the norm? Why is it so wrong to embrace all that music has to offer? Why?? I didn’t have the answer then, and I don’t have the answer now. I will always be on that search to understand.

Fast forward to 2010, the final year of my high school career. It was the end of our childhoods and the beginning of the rest of our lives. We were counted upon to have an idea of what kind of person we wanted to be, and expected to set out on that path to make that idea a reality. It was the time for discovering yourself. Reveling in my singledom, I had loads of time to kill and friends to kill it with. Through a series of unfortunate events, I luckily found myself with a quirky group of friends that accepted me for me, regardless of the music I listened to. Through my time with them, I began to branch out. I began to like other things and really began figuring out who I was through my eyes. Two years later, still on the search finding who I was, I discovered Neon Trees. The feeling I got while listening to Linkin Park doesn’t even compare to the first time I listened to Neon Trees. I got goose bumps people. Goose bumps! The chill and the buzz of electricity I felt through my body when I first heard the new wave pop rock sound was unforgettable. I remember I first heard them on a car commercial and was desperate to find out who they were. Searching Google like a fiend, I found them. I proceeded to listen to every song like a crack addict. I was chasing the feeling I first got when I heard them, and I wasn’t disappointed. Every song had a different sound and it set my world on fire. I was in love, and D.D could eat his heart out. My eyes were opened and I’ve seen the light beyond Neon Trees. The spark in me was reignited with passion as I rediscovered my curiosity for music, and found a love for rock and all subcategories in between. My musical appetite grew, and I refused to keep myself on a rap and R&B diet. After I have seen what the musical world had to offer me, there was no going back.

For so long, I felt that I shouldn’t- no; I felt that I COULDN’T listen to other genres other than rap and R&B. Those stereotypical norms were set in me, and I was too afraid to break them. I was cheating myself out of the amazing experiences music had to offer. But now, I have had a taste and it’s amazing. From Sam Cook to Radiohead, I have given it a listen. From J. Cole to Justin Aldean, I have expanded my playlist. Through all genres I have found what gets my feet tappin’ and my booty shakin’. If I ever live to be 100, it still wouldn’t be enough to thank music for all that it has done for me. I have found confidence, friendships, and love through music. I have found myself. In finding myself, I have learned that it is ok to be different. It is ok to not like all the same music as your family and friends. It’s ok to be YOU. So my family can continue to wrinkle their noses and make side comments about my "weird" music, and my friends can continue to shake their heads and cover their ears. In the annoyingly catchy words of Icona Pop “I don’t care, I love it.”


-Jaxx

                             (This is the very commercial when I first heard Neon Trees)

"I Forgot"

Let’s just lay it all out there. I'm putting my cards on the table to admit to you my most embarrassing trait. I am a chronic forgetter. My phone is full of notes to self's, and I don’t remember a day (See? Forgetful) when my mother hasn't needed to remind me to turn on the dishwasher. If I was an action hero, my catchphrase would be, “I forgot.” My mind is usually in the clouds or thinking  a million different thoughts, that a lot of everyday things escape me. I am not proud that I am forgetful. In fact, I hate that I am. I hate the look of disappointment I receive when I utter those two pathetic words conceding to my forgetfulness. Especially, when I have no substantial or even remotely epic story to back up the reason as to why I forgot. It’s absolutely maddening. I hate that niggling feeling in the back of my mind teasing me, because I knew I forgot something that may or may not be important. Honestly, if that niggling feeling was a person, it would be the know-it-all in the classroom/workplace that no one liked because they were a braggart about their know-it-all-ness, but would never help you when you asked. The jerk. 


If I am not being reminded, if it’s not blatantly in my face, or if its importance isn't expressed, that thing you asked me to do or not do/get etc PROBABLY won’t happen when you ask me the first time. And for that, I apologize. I know my forgetfulness is a less than desirable trait; and I am working to do better with paying attention more to the people and things around me. I am trying to stay “present”. With my new practice, I am noticing things I normally would have missed or forgotten. Last night was prime example of that. 



I have a 14 year old brother. Like most teens, he likes to think/act like he is older than he is; and like most boys, he likes to hide his emotions deep down inside to appear manly and not at all “little kid” like. Im talking Mariana Trench deep. That is 1,580 miles deep of hidden emotion. To see him uncontrollably upset is a rarity, and to see him cry is even more so. With that, I forget (there goes that word again) that he is a kid, despite how much he acts like he is not. Last night, he got upset over an incident and tried his hardest to not let that dam of manhood break. Despite his efforts, in the first time in years, I saw him cry.


It was in that moment, when I found him hiding behind his bedroom door, eyes red from crying, and face so childlike and full of innocence; when I remembered that he is in fact, a child. Moving through day to day life and seeing him as that pesky brother who doesn't know the meaning of “leave me alone”; I forget that he goes through things too. As much as he refuses to admit, he goes through pain and is still learning how to deal with it. Usually in my mind Id think, “He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine.” It’s so easy to brush it off with that statement. It’s easy, but not fair. It’s easy to forget that the people we care about go through things like you do and to forget that they too, are human.


What usually only took an Urkel-like sheepish smile to be forgiven for my habitual oversights, will no longer get me a pass. To continue to let things fly over my head because I forgot, will no longer do. Although daydreaming and living in "Jaxxtopia" is awesome; I have to learn to be a better adult, daughter, sister, friend, and overall person. I'm trading mental checklists for a physical one. Reminders are being set in my phone, and I am working on being an active person in the present. I just need to remember to do them (oh the irony to remember to do the things to help me remember). Mom, if you're reading this....I forgot to turn on the dishwasher. Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day. Baby steps people.


-Jaxx 

My Name Is Jaxx, And I Am A Tree

“Nothing is holier; nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farm boy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.” -Herman Hesse, a German-Swiss poet

If you could pick one thing in nature, what would you say that you are? Maybe an ocean because of its seemingly endless depths and unpredictability? Or maybe a mountain, because of its ruggedness and majestic nature? I was asked this answer through a friend of mine who was taking a silly magazine quiz. At first thought, I laughed it off saying I wouldn't know what part of nature I would be. After a few days passed, the question popped up in my mind. After taking an inordinate amount of time thinking about my response to this ridiculous quiz, I think I have found my answer. Just call me Grandmother Willow, because I am a tree. Unfortunately, my height is not on that list of reasons since I only clock in at 5’6, but what does make the list makes me think of trees, and me, in a new light.

Ever since I was a child, I loved to learn. Book in hand; I would spew off any type of knowledge that I had learned always preluding it with “did you know?” Over the years, my knowledge grew and my views on the world broadened. I see the world for what it is, what it was, and what it could be. I am realistic, as well as optimistic, in life. Through my love of learning, I have grown to be a person with an open mind and a gift of understanding.  I had advice to give to whoever asked for it, and a listening ear to those who needed to express themselves. Whatever they needed, I provided. Because of that ability, people gravitate toward me for their needs. Like a tree, I stand tall weathering all that comes at me, and continue to provide support and shade from the harshness of life. I love being a tree. It makes me feel needed, sought for, and gives me a sense of purpose. But what happens to a tree when people continue to take from it, never stopping once to see what the tree needs? It starts to breakdown, splinter, fall. A lot of people assume that because trees are so big and strong, they don’t need to help them with their needs. People assume, because I help and care for them, I am strong enough to care for myself.

Unlike a tree, I have a voice. I am able to say that I need to be cared for. Most of the time, I feel emotionally drained because of how many people need me, and ask for more than I can give. I should be able to express that right? Even though I have a voice, I don’t use it. What kind of tree would I be if I let the slightest of harsh winds cause me to bend? I might as well be tumbleweed. I have not broken, splintered, or fallen. I continue to stay strong and be there for who needs me most. There will be days when I want to stand alone and let others do for themselves, but at the end of the day, I am still a tree. I continue to be there to provide, should anyone need me. That’s just who I am. So, like a tree, I stay silent.  One day, my rings will be the wrinkles on my face. There will be laugh lines and worry lines. They will be my story. They will show that I have truly lived life. Maybe my answer wasn't what the quiz was looking for, but for now, it will have to do.

-Jaxx

It All Starts With "Famous No One"

With the help of a friend, the Famous No One name is now expanding to a brand. It is on its way to becoming a site that is more than a blog. I am creating a name that will be a positive force in the community with the goal to give back and make a difference. The plan is to join charities and volunteer through my brand, as well as reach out to people who wants their voice to be out there. Marketing and selling products with the Famous No One logo, I and supporters will be able to give a percentage of the profit to the charities we feel will benefit through our aid, and use the rest towards getting the name out there and to inspire the masses. Famous No One, isn't just me making a difference, it's for everyone that feels like they can't do something because they aren't famous and/or rich. Their voice will be out there. They will have a chance to make a difference. It all starts with Famous No One. 

Wish me luck! I hope to gain your support once we are up and running! 

-Jaxx

My Inner Old Lady: The Birthday Recovery

Where are the days when you could be out all night and all weekend with your friends having a blasty blast, and being able to show up to work the next day with the only evidence of your wild night/weekend were just the pictures and memories? Where has it gone? It’s lost in the year 2013 like my 21st birthday, and my high tolerance for weekend recovery. But now, the evidence of my 22nd birthday weekend is all over me like white on rice. Sleep deprived, sore muscled, and pale, I walk into work after a birthday weekend full of the circus, indoor skydiving, and a comedy show. I feel like 3 days road kill and I am pretty sure I look like it too. As I type, I am looking longingly at my orange juice and Red Bull cocktail (yes I know it’s not good for me, hold the unsolicited opinions please) I have concocted to get me through the morning…and afternoon. I am definitely not 21 anymore people. I have officially been kicked out of the “Bounce Back” club. I just don’t recover like I used to. I’m that old stretched out rubber band that is still kind of good, but you’d much rather use that nice new stretchy eye-putter-outer rubber band because I might break at any minute. I’m on the slow sad road of being older and more responsible. I know, I know. I know you are thinking I am being quite dramatic, and most likely you are right. But, I can not help that I feel like poo on a hot summer’s day: gross, smelly, and frankly, a bit shitty.

Looking back on my year, I know that I definitely took advantage of my youth. I didn’t take it for granted or let it go to waste. I know I am still young in the aspect of age and appearances, but inside I feel like I am older than my years. Inside, I’m some old lady that wears muumuus because they are so dang comfortable and has the urge to tell younger people “back in the day” stories. I’ve experienced most of the things I have wanted to experience and experienced things I definitely wish I could have skipped. So in appreciation of my youth and in respect to my inner old lady, I am going take this year to slow down. I’m not as young as I used to be. There is only so much I can put my body through before I really start seeing the negative affects. I want to live a long life full of smiles and laughter, not grimaces and winces. My inner old lady agrees; it’s time to take a beat. What’s the point in rushing? I want to take my time to truly appreciate the moments and the building of memories while I can. I want to be able to tell them in vivid detail, instead of a crazy whirlwind of memory flashes. So for the time being, I am in search of a hobby that will quell my hunger for adventure. Maybe I will start planning an adventure for the future. How does a cross country road trip sound? Yeah...I think it sounds pretty stellar too. 



    Elderly and adventurously yours, Jaxx

The Time My Playing Nurse Fantasy Was Ruined

C.K and I have been sick with colds for a while now. I am almost completely over mine, thanks to me taking necessary precautions and medication. He, however, was getting progressively worse. I was confused as to why he wasn't getting better, but after a conversation the other night, I figured out why. This is the conversation between C.K and I the other night over a cold that he has now had for almost a week:

C.K: I feel really ill and fatigued

Me: What are your symptoms?

C.K: Sore throat, sinus pressure, fatigue, minor cough

Me: Then you probably need some Dayquil cold and flu, or the one for sinuses

C.K: as for the fatigue? Just some rest?

Me: (to myself I want to shout “DUH!!!”, but Im not rude) Yes, you need to rest up. No gym, more iron and protein rich foods along with vitamin C and B

At this point, I am wondering why he is asking me this. Shouldn’t he know this already? It’s been a week! He should already be doing this. But then I thought, “Oh wait, he’s a guy. Never mind.”

Me: Also, more water intake, less milk. It causes more phlegm build up; and socks on at all times.

I say the socks comment thinking CLEARLY, he must know to have socks on because he is sick, his bedroom floor is concrete, and its FREAKING COLD OUTSIDE due to this thing called WINTER. Surely, he must be wearing socks. Oh, how I was so wrong.

C.K: Oh, I better go put some on then.

Me: …..please tell me you turned off your giant fan.

C.K: I guess I need to turn it off?

Me: *insert face palm* yes, why would have a fan on and you are cold and sick???

C.K: Ok ok….how about clothing…..should I be fully clothed, or are boxers and a shirt ok?

Me: *frustrated silence* Fully. Clothed.

Guys, you see what I am working with here? DO YOU SEE?? I’ve always had fantasies of role playing and playing nurse, but now I could give two farts in a jar about that. There is absolutely no way that will happen anytime soon. I need time to get over the trauma I have experienced. Never in my life have I ever been so frustrated and mad at the fact that he did not know anything about taking care of himself when he is sick, that if you put a cape on me, I guess you could say that I was SUPER mad (Yeah, I just threw that pun in there). Although I was very frustrated that he lacked the common knowledge, I understand. He doesn’t get sick often, so how is he really to know? That and the fact that he is a guy and common sense sometimes escapes them like air out of a balloon.

I was in the health academy in high school; I am a certified first responder, and currently studying to take my emergency medical technician certification in February. Obviously, I have higher knowledge than he when it comes to health. Besides my credentials, I am just a person who likes to always be prepared for any situation at hand that may require my knowledge. You could say that I am a bit of a “know-it-all”. I don’t ever like going into things blindly, so it’s always nice to have information at the ready. So, in a circumstance when my boyfriend is at a loss with how to take care of himself, it takes every fiber in my being to shout, “HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS?? “ But, because I am not a complete asshole, I don’t. Because domestic violence is wrong, and he is quite sensitive (despite the fact he does MMA), I won’t bop him upside the head and say, “You could have had a V8” either.

I am slowly coming to grips that C.K does not think the way I do. I can not make him think more like me, because he is not me. He isn’t hardwired to retain and learn like I am. I am always reading and researching new things that are of immediate or future use, because I hunger for learning. He is the type of person that if it does not occur, or directly affect him, he doesn’t think about it. And that’s ok for him. I can’t get mad at him for being 100% the person he is. I can not get mad that he doesn’t have the same interests in learning like I do. That’s not fair to either of us, and it's counterproductive. Instead, I will educate him for the next time he gets sick so I do not have to repeat this nightmare. Hopefully by then, I will have recovered from the trauma of his lack of knowledge, and we can get that nurse fantasy back in motion. 

-Jaxx 

I Was Born Full Of Shit...Obligatory Birthday Post

This is going to be a weird one....prepare yourself for unfiltered weirdness...


22 years ago, a star was born....probably. I don't know, I'm not an astrophysicist. But, what I do know is I was born too; in a pretty stellar fashion I might add. Who else knows how to make their grand entrance to the world more memorable than inhaling their own poo besides me? Yes, yes, how gross of me to say, but I was a newborn so relax. If nothing else, I am honest and unashamed. Crying first is so overrated. Coming into this world full of crap (pun intended) is the way to go. So, 22 years later and I'm here saying happy birthday to me, and thank you to all who are wishing me a happy birthday and/or spending the weekend with me to make it more special than some dust and rock becoming fused together into a star. 

-Jaxx