All that is gold does not glitter.

All that is gold does not glitter.

‘All that is gold does not glitter, all that wander are not lost’ is one of the first things I read this morning as I signed onto my facebook. It strikes me. As does another one that describes the experiences we learn in life, the situations we are put through, and the choices we make with the information we withhold. So, I think. My choice. What do I do with the information I have gathered throughout the years.

For years I have considered myself a lost wanderer. For centuries so has the rest of the world. Maybe it is because the term wander has coincided with lost; thanks to definitions that give us the relations between the words and the meanings they portray. Let’s start anew, fresh. Let us make our own correlations, and our own meanings of life.

If we can define ourselves, then we can make choices based off the events that have brought us to this point in our lives. We can be the masters of our own disguise.

Red Sea.

Red Sea.

They call themselves fisherman. But they are not fishing, and they are certainly far from anything that is man.

They are murderers, and they live in a sea of blood. It should be their blood. But it is innocent blood. Blood that never asked to be shed. Blood that was lured in by the racketing sound of fear. Blood that took away their babies, their family, and last but never least, themselves.

They are the rarest form of beauty. But beauty nonetheless. They are the dolphin. And they are here to stay. But they need our help. Help from the real women and men of the world. Help from the ones that can see through the blood red seas and make them clean again.

Help from the ones that aren’t afraid to stand up.

-Mirrorless me.

**If you are any person that calls yourself a man or woman in any decency, then you will txt dolphin to 44144. To learn how to end the murder and violence happening in Japan every year! If not, then you’re just a bitch.

Cosmos Anyone?

For most of our lives, many women have spent endless hours if not their whole life searching for the perfect man. One that displays charisma, who smiles, is thin, full of color and life, flexible and most importantly understanding.

Now that sounds like my kind of man, and I found him. All of you reading this right now have found him too. It all came to me the other night while I was at my girl friends house, laying on the couch, reading my cosmo. I came across a three page spread of some of the sexiest men located all around the country. And then it hit me, the way I hit men out of my house who don’t carry those qualities. I shouted loud enough for my neighbor and our five animals to hear, “Pfftttt, who needs a boyfriend, I have a cosmo!”

My perfect man is a cosmo magazine and he comes in the November issue on an eight by eleven, full of color, thin and flexible sheet of paper. I like to refer to him as the “paper boyfriend.” He is sleek and sexy, and never rejects me. As a matter of fact I have a choice! Most of the time I am lucky if I have one pick of the litter, but not today. Today I can choose from several men, and if I get bored with North Carolina I can escape and move halfway across the country to Mr. Hawaii.

Paper boyfriends are the best kind of man there are out there. I can yell at them, change in front of them, dance like I’m having seizures, and the best thing about this all is that he will look at me the same no matter what. I could even get fat, let my boobs hang to the floor, and deny sex all at the same time. And you better bet your button that he’s still smiling at me by the end of the night.

After carefully reviewing the pros and cons, as many women can be caught doing, I have come across but two downfalls. Abuse by paper cuts, which is acceptable and heals in twenty four hours. And, the limited conversations that may not take place during this relationship. But what could possibly be so bad about that? He would be a great listener. And if any of you ladies date the same tard nuggets I do, then you’ll understand that silence is golden.