Cadet Kelly

I have an issue.
One of many.
I have a problem of deciphering dreams from reality.  No one understands when I say that.  It's always "How can you not tell what your dream was?  It's a dream."  Yes, it was a dream, but that doesn't make it any less real that every day life.  I live in this dream world all the time. I don't know how to describe it, but it's me.  I will imagine these complex situations before I go to bed and it'll seem so real, and transfer into my actual dreams.  When I wake up, I feel as though some of the things have happened.  I'm always worried about the things that I will come out of my mouth, because I'm afraid they happened in my dream world.  Don't get me wrong, I love my dream world.  Dream me is kick ass.  She takes charge and doesn't let things get to her.  She always is in control and she is so damn sexy.  I love dream me - but she scares me at the same time.  My whole made up world scares me.  No one knows about it, no one knows what goes on in it, no one actually knows what I go through.  I want to connect with people, but they physically cannot.  They can't reach into my dream world and interact with me.  It's half of my life.  Half of my life that no one knows what goes on, or rather no one asks me what goes on.
...
I need to make an adjustment to my perfect husband.
He will understand my odd behaviors, and embrace the shit out of them.

In other news, I missed out on an aids party at the Gay 90's.  This week's danger: foam party.  Narrowly avoided that one.  I do not see how that party would be fun, I wouldn't be able to see, and when we left the club, we'd all be dying in the below freezing weather.  No.  No thank you.

I want my boobs now.  I want to be thin now.  I want to take charge of my life now.

blurb

boys are my drug. and I am addicted. all I want to do is stroke their beautiful bodies. if I could just lay in bed all day with a half-naked, attractive man - that would be the life. please and thank you.
that's all I needed to say.
for now.

That's Fucking Amazing

Here's my real blog post, Molbuns. The one where I explain what's been going on in my life for the past few weeks. It's been a whirlwind.

You know that feeling when you aren't sure if something is true, and then you tell it to a few people, and then when they repeat it back to you it sounds realer and realer each time? I had this hunch...and I told you a little about this hunch, Molly. The hunch was that maybe, perhaps, I would be happier if I were a girl, and I hunched it because suddenly one day I felt utterly defeated, like the universe sat on me and farted. I wanted to wear high heels, damn it, and I wanted to brush my long hair and to have a skinny waist to dance with and for god's sake I wanted to have the kind of sex you don't see in movies, where two people are so drunk on each other's happiness that it doesn't even matter if they ever fall in love they just fall on the floor and wake up at noon smiling.

Anyway...so I told this in not so many words to you, and then my Adam, and I also asked Jessica about it (who, by the way, is a freaking expert) and then I started going to a psychiatrist. Yeah. That happened. And I said I'm not happy in this city because I can't explore my gender identity, there's no way in hell they'll let me walk down the street as anything other than what my dick dictates (I have to be a boy), and so I need to get far AWAY from here. I told them that. Last night I went to the dean of students, in her apartment, and we sat on her couches and I told her...and the first thing she told me was, "That's fucking amazing." I have never in my life felt so fabulously vindicated. I don't know where I'm headed, but I know I'm not headed there alone...

Forgive Me, Blog

I had almost forgotten about this blog, until Condor said he was making a new blog post.  I thought to myself "HOLY BALLS.  I haven't written anything since this summer!"  ... maybe?  I don't know.

Why does life keep changing?  I don't think I have had one piece in my life that I have been able to say "that has stayed the exact same way since .. whenever"  Life is hard.  Life doesn't make exceptions.  Life is a bitch.

What I actually want to talk about in this blog is my future outlook:
Living in a quaint home with a fabulous husband.  One that is strong inside and out.  Who can pick me up when I am down.  One who will also help me with bills, not just the paying part, but the figuring out how to go about and pay them.  One who will hang Christmas lights outside with me in the winter, or scare the living daylights out of preteen hooligans on Halloween.  One that will bake with me in our underwear for fun, or lounge on the couch watching Adult Swim at two in the morning.  One that when the lights go out and I scream bloody murder will grab my hand and tell me things will be fine - that he's here for me.  One that will go in with me to buy a puppy.  Someone I can grow old with and not care that my skin is sagging, or my hearing is going, or that I can no longer lift heavy things.  My next door neighbors will be Connor and Loreena.  Across the street from me will be Rosie, and behind Katarina, so we will share backyards.  My sister will be somewhere in the neighborhood, but not right next to me, or we would get the police called on us for the crazy shenanigans we would be caught doing - either that or for screaming at each other through our windows.  I will be an occupational therapist, helping people return to their every day lives.  My husband and I will host nerf wars at our house.  And when the time comes, and all my friends are married with kids (yes, even you Connor.  you better have kids, because I'm not sure I want any, but if I do - you have to too) I will have my first kid as well, and he or she will play in the streets and all throughout the neighborhood with my best friend's children.  I will be thin.  I know for a fact I won't have the breasts that I want, but I know I will be thin, because that's what I want.  And not the thin society tells me, but the thin where I feel comfortable in my own skin.  I want this life.  This is my future.

And my future is bright.  I just need to find a way to complete all of this.  But I know one thing for sure, Connor will always be by my side, every step of the way.

I like to Dream

that I am a performer in the city-- a dancer, a drag queen, a stripper-- and that my shit is all put together, and Molly lives next-door, and my future-husband stays over on weekends, and we get to go out and play Pokemon together, and my hair is probably purple because it was my school color and the color of my bleeding heart and my one true love's eyes, and when I go to sleep at night I fall asleep knowing that even though this isn't forever it's all you could have wished for, and that when I go back to the abyss my time spent walking the earth and dancing and playing and dyeing and lying will all have meant something to someone, and then I wake up.


(ps MOLLY I'M SORRY THE BLOG CHANGES THE POST ORDER WHEN YOU EDIT THEM (I think? It does on my phone anyway) AND I KEEP BEING OCD AND FIXING MINE, AND THEN THEY END UP AT THE TOP. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO DO THE SAME TO YOURS SO WE'RE EVEN. BYE)

Strunk Slash White

If someone could (and really, someone should) write a slash fiction account of my life right now, you would probably want to read it. Walk into yoga, BAM, orgy. Five minutes into literature class, WAT are Tom and Allen doing in the back room!? It's six in the morning, my roommate's asleep, but I'll be his alarm today. Office hours with the chemistry student teachers, you know we're practicing our sexual chemistry.

Unfortunately this life is a fictional parody (fanfiction? maybe rather stalkerfiction?), so somewhere in the back of my head it's playing out, probably to be reenacted in my dreams sometime from now until forever, because I'm a male college student, so half of my life is spent mentally preparing for any situation to evolve into an orgy or zombie apocalypse (coincidentally also the two best motivations for spending more time on the treadmill)...(yes, orgy apocalypse.).

i.e.:
A chef at Sama Tower catches the Zombie on his way to work. By 7am the entire cafeteria staff is infected, with several zombie casualties, because, well, they're surrounded by fucking paring knives and other assorted cutlery; someone's gotta be sensible enough to fight back, but the zombies prevail by sheer, undead biomass anyway. I finish my shower and head to the ground floor for breakfast, and because on a typical morning I'm the first student there even, I get ambushed before anyone has sounded (or Nicki Minaj has pounded) the alarm. Well of course I've been thinking about this moment for my entire life, so I'm not TOTALLY surprised when my favorite Filipino register operator lunges over the counter baring her normally-smiling fangs. So I quickly step back and throw my croissant at her and bolt out the door. However, only now do I notice that the security retinue at the front desk are not looking their usual, sullen selves any more, but are really feasting on one another and also noticing my panicky self as I dash toward the elevators. Actually taking the elevator would be suicide, and immensely stupid anyway even if I made it because I'd just be trapped in a 45-story building crawling with zombies and social science majors. Damn. But also there's no point going outside. I'd just die in half the time because it's the desert, and deserts were designed by Xenu to kill anyone who tries to live in them. Long story short, I make it onto the roof somehow and the Sama Tower helipad (yes, that actually exists) and John Sexton is waiting with a rope ladder hanging from his undead-proof hot air balloon (probably exists) and we fly off into the sunrise.
End.

i.e.2.:
But seriously I think all of this talk about orgy apocalypses (henceforth referred to as "boring study time" because I'm tired of people looking over my shoulder and asking me what an orgy apocalypse is) has got to my head, because last night I did, in fact, have a dream on a related note. It wasn't exactly boring study time, but I was at a party...and this guy called Nino kept flirting with me and putting his arms around me, and I felt happy, like a kind of happy I've never felt before. So happy that I woke up before the dream could get more interesting even, and then I almost wanted to stay awake forever and let that happiness burn me until I melted into the floor. And when I fell asleep again I was back with Nino except he had stopped flirting, like he was expecting me to return his affection, only I couldn't, no matter how much I tried to get near him it felt impossible to touch him, and I could see that he was upset and losing interest. And then he left.

I'm going to go find Nino.

summer 2012

so I was going to wait until Condor put up a new post, but he hasn't.  so I will.
I am procrastinating my homework.  sadly, I took a summer class.  because I am stupid.
I'm not quite sure who reads this blog.  I have a feeling it is only Connor and myself.  and quite frankly, I am okay with that.  I have some things I'd like to write down, but there are some folk who I would not want to see it.
I have this friend, and he thinks my seven deadly sin is lust.  he doesn't know how right he is.  my lanta, I swear that's all I think about.  and there is this one boy who, since the first week I met him, I can NOT stop thinking about.  you know.  I just.  AUGH.
and tonight, I went to go see the new Spiderman movie, which is a surprisingly good movie, and he was in all spandex, and YUMMY.  holy balls of fire, dat ass.  once they zoomed in on it, the rest of the movie was a disappointment.
this blog post is just going to skip around a lot, just so anyone who is reading this has a little heads up.
there are three things I'd like to change about myself.  all that has to do with physical appearance.  1)  I'd like all my acne/acne scars to go away.  and never, ever come back.  2)  I'd like my hip/stomach fat to go away and never come back.  this is a new one for me, considering I've always been the size of a pencil.  I'm not saying I want to be the size of a pencil again, but if I'm going to have a size A cup for the rest of my life, I would like the skinniness to come along with it.  and to roll off of number 2, 3)  I want bigger boobs.  I'm not saying, DDD breasts.  but come on, I want some titties that MOVE.  a large B cup, or an average C, either will do.  just get LARGER.  my mom said hers didn't come in until early 20's.  so thanks, Mom.  a couple more years to go, trapped in a 13 year old's body.
it was my birthday the other day.  19.  whoo.  I had a pretty shitty birthday, not going to lie.  I don't know why it was so bad, it just was.  but whatever.  I have moved on, and I am ready to party as a 19 year old, young adult, single lady, with a sexy ass.
hey, I am an arms/calves/ass girl.  what can I say?  dang, I am the definition of lust.

there's a picture of a boy that I really like, that I want to post on here.  but I feel like I shouldn't.  I'll describe the picture.  he is sitting his sexy ass in a chair.  and sitting there.  all sexy like.  you are welcome.  hope I sexified your day.
instead I will post a picture of me, Connor, and some friends at the Gay 90's on pride.  that was a good weekend.  I love you, Connor.
fin.

New Beginnings

So much has changed.

So so much.

Except that I still miss Connor.  That's still the same.  He comes home in June though.  That's less than two months.  Hells to the yes.

I'd like to rant about how much I hate women right now.  So suck it up.

Women are vial.  THEY SUCK.  I can't even put into words how much they make me sick to my stomach.  They complain about every single stinkin' thing, expect so much attention, lie, manipulate, and are just plain gross.  I'm not talking about boy gross, that I can handle - farts, poop talks, debates on gooey vaginas, whatever it is, I can handle that.  But women can be the GROSSEST things ever.  They leave their hair everywhere, they cry all the time, they BLEED FROM THEIR GENITALS, they complain like no other, they never stop talking, they are JUST GROSS.  I HATE WOMEN.  I sometimes wish I wasn't a woman, but I don't think I could handle the power of the penis, having to worry about that thing must suck eggs.  I am so ready for summer to be around men again and to be able to choose when I should interact with women.  They make my brain hurt and I dislike it.  I dislike manipulative people.  You all know who you are.

I want to try something new this summer.  Actually, I want to try a lot of new things this summer.  I AM SO PUMPED.  I want things to be different.  I'm ready for things to be different.  They are going to be different.

Different.

I MISS MY FRENCH HORN.

I never realized how much I like going on walks until I took them with the right people.  That's all I have to say on that subject.

I miss my ripped body.  I don't like this pudge, especially because I DIDN'T GET ANY BOOBS OUT OF IT.  I want a bikini body with BOOBS.  Clammit all.

So, I'm a ginger now. That's cool...
Please don't ask what I am doing in the picture, I was at a place where everything was made of trampolines.  One can only handle so many trampolines.

Fin.

Hypothetics

The school year is already three quarters over and so, once again, I'm looking ahead to a great transition.

I remember writing something out seven weeks before I was to return to Abu Dhabi for the first time to begin the looming school year full of now-fulfilled and -unfulfilled expectations. I remember the insecurities I had about coming to join these new, incredible people who I had only communicated with thus far via fragile Internet connections. And now is it wrong that (about) seven weeks before I am to return home I feel the same way?

First off, I'm not the same person I was when I left, that's for sure. Fundamentally I keep generally the same composure and attitude, but something else has changed. It's like taking the pepperonis off a pizza and replacing them with pineapple and peppers (apparently my inability to make analogies hasn't changed). My speech is alien, I reason differently, I look weird, I have new dreams. I still can't believe that a few weeks ago when Katja Grim told me studying abroad wasn't the most important part of my education, I couldn't disagree. I know who I used to be, and that person still resides in my head and is fighting not to be overtaken by this strange adult me. Identity crisis much?



And the funny thing happens when I go home. As I've said before, it's like this separate world; nothing at all from my two homes overlaps except me. To sleep on my real bed makes me feel like a child again, and to return to my old high school makes me nervous that I'll have to explain the new half of my life to someone I used to know. Afraid, actually. That's another thing that hasn't changed about me. I still can't shout to the world who I am and where I am and what I've done. Hey, world, I'm a homosexual living happily in the fucking middle east. Take that.

Which brings me right back to why I'm insecure about returning home. Likely most of my Minnesota friends will also be home for the summer (and most of them never left. Love you, Mollapalooza <3). When I see them, will they still be the way they were when we all left? Of course they won't be. It's going to be a long, weird summer.

The Role

Goll darn it.

There have been a lot of tears shed this past week.  Lots of hate, lots of confusion, lots of tears.  Lots and lots of tears.
The other day, a very, very close person to me made a "Note" on his Facebook.  Stating that he can't call Minnesota his home because Minnesota doesn't accept him.  That Minnesota is missing out on all of his talents, and his tax money, and his general presence.  And you know what?  Minnesota is missing out.  That boy is one of the smartest people I know, one of the funniest people I know, one of the most beautiful guys I know, inside and out.  That note made me cry.  Because, the more I thought about it, the angrier I became.  I absolutely love Minnesota, with its four seasons, friendly smiles, and natural Minnesota charm.  Not to mention the Vikings.  But how could I ever be so fond of Minnesota if it doesn't accept one of my favorite people to step foot into my life?  I just can't bring myself to be proud of my state anymore.
To top it all off, the magazine Rolling Stone published an article about Michelle Bachmann's "holy war" in her represented district.  Her district is mine as well.  The heart wrenching article "One Town's War on Gay Teens" is about my home, my school district, my friends, my family.  After reading that article, how can I call Anoka County my home?
http://alfranken.com/index.php/splash/snda/e/email
http://blogs.citypages.com/blotter/2012/02/jefferson_fietek_anoka_hennepin_teacher_gay_rights_advocate_runing_state_senate.php
Those two links give me hope.
My best friend is not a second class citizen.  He deserves all the rights that I do.  He deserves to be miserable in a marriage if he wants to too!
Who gave any one of these religious people the right to play God?
Stop the hate.
Hopefully one day I can call Minnesota my home again.  But not until everyone is treated fairly.

I love you, Brony.

I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this

To fair warn you all, this post is going to be very random.  I have a lot to get off my chest, and dang it, by the end of it, you will all have taken a glimpse into the complex mind of Molbuns.

I think the biggest thing on my mind lately is college in general.  It's sending me on this wild roller coaster of emotions.  One thing I know for sure is I am repeating my life over again.  And I hate it.  I can't find the reverse button, I don't know how to pull myself out of this .. pile of poop.  I just want things to fall into place, and not feel like crap as life is slowly working its magic.  Too much to ask for?  Thought so.

You know what else sucks?  Losing friends/being replaced.  I think that is the absolute WORST feeling in the whole world.  Being replaced.  I have these two friends - whom I shall refer to as Asshole and Penishole.  And in less than a year they both have slipped through my fingers and left me.  Alone.  Then, worst of all, they replaced me in their lives.  Which SUCKS.  I sit on my stalker site, yes - I am a facebook stalker, and watch as their new lives unfold and wonder what was so wrong with me that they decided they didn't want to be a part of my life anymore.  I'd love to think "OH WELL.  THEIR LOSS."  .. but for some reason, I just can't.


I miss Connor.
As cliche as this sounds, the kid is like a brother to me.  If I am having a problem, I can text CLM, and I know he will be right there, with his bestie advice.  He's like my soul mate.  But not in a creepy "LET'S GET MARRIED!" way.  But in a "our souls connect" kind of way.  I sure hope he feels the same, or this would be awkward.  I apologize, kid.  I'll buy you a pony and send it to you.  It'll probably go through the postal service, they didn't seem to have a problem with our leaves.....


I think I am going to pick up guitar again.  Just to .. just to play.  Not for anyone, not for anything, just for me, just to play.  I'm going to conquer "I'll Follow You Into The Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie, because those darn bar chords are what got me to stop, and I WILL DEFEAT THEM.

I miss working out.  That used to be my life in high school, pumping iron.  Now I'm just a lazy slob.  Yeah, I don't have much to say about that.  Just that I miss it.

I'm ready to meet the man of my dreams now.  I don't want to do any work, I just want him to fall into my life.  Like on the Sims.  Call the matchmaker, pay 5,000 simloans, and your soulmate falls out of the sky.  If only it was that easy.  I just need some testosterone in my life again, dang it.  Some man stank, and man jokes, and man laughs, and man .. stuff.  Man.

If only guys understood how much personalities are the key to .. everything.  If you have a big head, it's such a turn off. - ... I AM NOT INTERESTED, PENISHOLE.  GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD.  I JUST WANT TO BE FRIENDS.  IT'S POSSIBLE.  JUST GET OVER YOURSELF.  YOU ARE NOT AS FANTASTIC AS YOU THINK.  WE ARE FRIENDS, DANG IT.  I'M ALLOWED TO SAY THAT.  Now let's go joke about how messed up everyone on TLC is over ice cream and not think twice about it.

I wish I could go fake skydiving.  Connor, that sounded amazing.  I am quite jealous.

I wish my sister and this boy named Ethan would date.  They are so cute together.  I just want her to be happy with a GOOD guy.  There are so many creeps out there.  And I swear, if one boy hurts her, I'll kill 'em.  I will.

Boys boys boys...