I'm used to breaking all the rules

I've never been one to understand rules, especially ones that are silent. You know, the ones where we are supposed to draw inside the lines or wear underwear. I pretty much suck at abiding by societies rules. I like to be social, yet there are many times I enjoy hiding away. So, I'm not exactly an extravert or introvert, don't quite fit in any box or category.
Back to what I was saying, the most obscene rules I believe are the dating ones. All the relationship books I've read are pretty right on: do you, don't ever stray from that(which is a GREAT tip to living the happy life). Another one is making the guy wait, allow him to get his ego fed by holding off when it comes to sex. Allow him to hunt, to chase you. There are so many ways to do this and I suck at ALL of them. It’s ANNOYING to have so many “assumed” guidelines! Whatever happened to just being yourself??? If you meet someone....fantastic! If you don’t, join the rest of us losers that are apparently lost in unrealistic standards of being an actual kind human that returns text messages & phone calls. I’m just going to hang out over here in my imaginary utopia palace where I still believe people can be good & good things will happen to them.
By the way, I know my blog isn't for everyone....trust me, I see the numbers. I've been told I'm a wonderful writer, but I know the truth....no one reads this blog and my book sales are NO sales. So, I figured I would just go ahead and write whatever the hell I want and be filter free.
Why can't we just go ahead and live in a world free of competition? Free from judgement and attachment of our past? I don't like playing games, I'm not into rules on how to "get the guy". Guess I'm choosing single-hood, it does look quite good on me, right? I'll just keep celebrating those I'm surrounded by that revel in their romantic relationships.

This brings up a point of why I've always been a fan of Jesus & his never ending reckless love that accepts me unconditionally, now that’s appealing. No having to learn ways to win him over, he's already into me(& you too).

brush yo hair!

When I was younger, I absolutely despised brushing my hair. If I did, it would look like a fully grown chia pet. Every morning my mother would tell me, "Kara, BRUSH YOUR HAIR." Sometimes I would attempt to listen and painfully obeyed, leaving me quite embarrassed. I ask myself 33 years later "why?" Why was I embarrassed about having frizzy curly hair? Why am I still embarrassed if I don't look completely 'put together'? Not that I honestly try at all, yet if I pass by another woman that does appear to have her shit together and looks UH-mazing, I immediately feel incompetent. Yes, at 43 years old I randomly get intimidated. Is it because I don't understand I'm enough, or I'm comparing myself? Who am I supposed to be comparing myself to anyway? I'm not young, I'm not in shape like I was a few years ago, and there's a chance I've forgotten where I left my apartment key. Brushing hair is overrated, and apparently sleep is too, as I sit up in my bunk bed typing this pointless blog entry. Oh yeah, have I mentioned I sleep in the top bunk of my crashpad that host about 22-25 people? It's a three bedroom apartment with about 4 bunks per room...its not too bad. I pay about $300 per month and everyone is rarely here at the same time because we are all flight attendants on different schedules. New flight attendants deserve a reality tv show, with a theme song and a voice resembling Robin Leach saying: Lifestyles of the Bitches and Shameless. Until next time, good night.

No Ingles

Running through what some may call the 'ghetto' terminal of Charlotte due to all the construction and mass confusion, I enjoyed some entertaining thoughts. I was rushing to catch a plane in another terminal and heard someone shouting across the way: "Ma'am! Do you speak English?" I look over and the woman was waving me down, I squinted my face and then remembered I was in uniform. I didn't realize I resembled a Spanish speaking origin, or maybe it was just the fact I was wearing my glasses and that made me look 10 times more intelligent. An intelligent bi-lingual woman, I'll take it! I responded as I picked up my pace towards the direction of my plane: "No Ingles!" 

Flight Attendant Bedtime Stories

Dim lights, patterned carpet, the sound of the fan running, that old building smell, and little ol' me in this huge ass hotel bed. Alone. The heat on, yet I'm still cold. Eyes heavy from tiredness, the aching growing stronger from lack of sleep. Still trying to recover from nights before, when I had a deadhead to New York from Washington, DC. Realizing it was midnight by the time the company got me to my hotel room. I fell onto the bed, not seeing any point to change clothes because four hours later I would be shuttled back to the airport to work the flight back to DC. Thinking I could sleep the rest of the day was wishful. My 38 by 75 inches of personal space in the crashpad may only be half the size of this hotel king mattress but, for some odd reason it doesn't make me feel as lonely.