Nyctophilia

The definition of Nyctophilia is the love of darkness or night or feeling like you belong in the dark. This usually applies to those who often feel sadness. .

There are times when I feel the darkness. It’s my darkness though, I do love the night. But there is also a part of me that likes to be inside before the light of day. There is a certain time during the night that scares me.

I love the lights, the beat of the night, the night sky. The peacefulness of the night-time is soothing.

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She works hard for the Money

I always wanted to be a bartender, but the work that goes with that just didn’t appeal to me. I will admit to doing some of it when I was younger for a day or too … strictly for the cash.

My dive bar has a reputation for having a difficult time keeping regular bartenders. Some go and never come back while others go and return months later. I have seen a few come back and work only to be fired again or to quit after a few days.

There is one cute little bartender that has returned, she’s cute, perky and full of that sparkle of life. I like her, she’s a good bartender verses the older guy who stands there like a bump on a log. When you’re working for tips, you need to be “on it.” I don’t see this new guy lasting long, too many patrons will start to complain more and more that they wait to long for their poison.

If you are served by a good attentive bartender, please remember to give them a good tip. They’re working hard for their money.

 

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The Joint’s Jumpin’ Jukebox

In the dive bar there is a jukebox (Touchtunes, of course). The owner or bartenders will give a few bucks to a patron who wants to play the jukebox if the joint is too quiet. Charlie would always play some of the best tunes to drink too. There are a few others who play some old tunes from “Back Stabbers” by The O’Jays to “Stuck in the Middle” by Stealers Wheel to some James Taylor to some of todays pop hits. It really varies but there is seldom any rap or hip hop tunes played. Sometimes there is some country or Latino pop played which is all very good.

If you are not aware of it, there is an app so that a person can play Touchtunes without ever having to leave their bar stool. You can find your location and add your money and play all the songs you want from the comfort of your smartphone. Hell you can even connect it to your Spotify account for your playlists.

I seldom play the jukebox because Charlie always did it. Oh something I forgot to mention about the joints jukebox is that it’s also used to relay messages to others in the bar. Like once when I was there with someone who wasn’t Charlie, one of his crew played “Me & Mrs. Jones” by Billy Paul. Then there was another song that was played when I was drunk and hanging out with Mr. Sam. “Never been any Reason” by Head East was played, I was a bit buzzed and I seductively danced to where Mr. Sam was standing. Now, it was kind of labeled as our song for a short time.

Who doesn’t enjoy listening to some good tunes when they’re out drinking and having a good time.

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The Hunky Hairy Hipster

While at my favorite watering hole, a friend of mine was there sporting his normal “man bun.”  I had always been envious of his long wavy locks and I have always had a thing for men with long hair. However, this young man is too young for me to ever think about in only other way.

I asked him if I could take his photo for this challenge.

He seemed very unsure of himself and is a very sensitive young man.

I tried to get him to relax, but the more I spoke to him the more he became nervous. I really like this photo. I haven’t heard his opinion yet, hope he likes it.

French Fries

I love French Fries.

I love them with ketchup and sometimes I eat them without.

I love the crinkled, the steak and the regular fries and of course American. But I don’t like the waffles fries. I like cheesy fries, but not “the with everything” fries.

Sometimes I dip my fries and sometimes I drown my fries. I don’t like my fries with ranch, mayo or anything odd like those things. Just pass the ketchup.

 

 

Emergency Exit

Sometimes I wish there was an “emergency exit” door on my life, during those situations when its awkward, uncomfortable or when I know that my behavior will have consequences. Last night was a perfect night for an emergency exit door. Some times I look for the exit door in my relationships. If I can’t find out I’ll make one or cause the other person to push me out of the door.

I guess I look for the exit when my emotions get too much for me. When I feel that I am losing or when I don’t want to deal with the issues at hand. Isn’t it easier just to walk out of that exit door than to have to look at those issues at hand?

Yeah, it’s a cop-out and a lot of people just walk out of the exit door of your life and don’t look back.emergency exit, sassycat3000, borderline personbality disorder, mental illness, blog for mental health awareness, latina sexblogger, a to z challenge

Being a borderline, my emotions are up & down and back & forth. My hand on the exit door handle, threatening to leave the person whom I wish most to connect with. The fear of being smothered mixed with the fear of losing my autonomy pushes me to the door every time. There were a few times that I walked out of the exit door of someone’s life, stood on the other side of the door frantically pulling on the handle attempting to re-enter from the emergency exit. Its impossible and can’t be done. I stand there completely alone, empty and wanting to feel something. Anything to remove the pain of my stupid mistake. Never meaning to hurt the one I love, but I did. Now I’m hurting as well. Now wtf?!

If you happen to fall in love with a Borderline, please know that it’s not you, its them. You need rules. You need to always be communicating with them and breaking everything down so that they understand as if they were a child, but never ever sound condescending. This will push them quicker than ice cream melting on a 90 degree summer day.

Here I stand looking at the emergency exit door. Just looking at it. Considering all my options. I’m not ready to walk through the door just yet.

Canvas

I appreciate “the artist” allowing me to use him for photos. I tried to take photos of the canvas but the texture of the canvas reflects and you can see the grooves in it.

He’s been hard at work with his recent painting. He is self-taught and always learning about his craft. He has sold a few of his prints in a Chicago gallery. He does have a dark side to his art, but don’t most artists have a tortured soul?

I’m pretty sure he didn’t mind being used by me at all. He is a really close friend, it would crush me if he disappeared from my life. I hope that never happens. I hope he will always be around in my life.

C is for Canvas.

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