I started this blog not knowing what I wanted to say. After all, I just pumped out a tantalizing tid-bit a few days before and here I am foolishly attempting to once again be clever and pensive enough to catch your attention and perhaps, if I play my cards right, you will come back a little more clever and pensive than you were before reading these ramblings. The theme for this evening is friendship. Which, I assure you, I will not do justice because friends, are the people who get to have all of you.
They get the good, the bad, and the horrendously ugly. They've seen every emotion your body can pump out and God bless mine for still sticking around for my demonically possessed menagerie of human expression. But that's the great thing about friends, about real true life-changing friends, they stick around. They don't just pass on through your life only staying for a season, they set up a bomb shelter with enough Vienna sausages to feed an African village and hunker down for the long haul. They get out their dancin shoes when the gettin is good, and pull out the ice cream and man-hatin attire when everything has gone to hell. Well, at least that's what my friends do. If you're a boy reading this, maybe your friends get you really drunk and hire you a stripper. Whatever it is, you get the oh so cliched point: friends are there for all the curve balls life has to dish out.
I guess what I'm trying to say is this: if life is short and it is supposed to be what we make it, do yourself a favor, stop worrying about winning every popularity contest you can think of, dumb the drama queens, and spend the rest of your days with people who truly love and care about you. Spend them with the people who have all of you and love every part of it, even when your head spins around and you spew green goo.:)
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Orange Crush
I'm a white girl. It's no secret. I'm pale as pale can be, so pale in fact that in the winter months, I may or may not glow in the dark. But, once I get some summer sun and increase my already incredibly high risk of getting skin cancer, I am a nice sun kissed bronze, and suddenly, all my clothes look better! And I wear less and less make-up! It's like a sun induced confidence boost! And with this confidence boost I've come to realize that tanning, is a lot like drinking.
Once you have consumed alcohol, everyone looks better, more attractive, and a whole lot happier.
Tanning is the same way. When people are tan, they look better, more attractive, and a whole lot happier. Heck, they look down right healthy! In fact, tanning actually makes people look thinner. Really! It's like the only way in the world to drop at least 5 pounds instantly and all you have to do is lay in a tanning bed or on the beach for 10 minutess a day. And if you really wanna look good, you could drink while you're doing it!
In fact, Hispanic and Black women are a prime example of how being un-white makes you look down right sexy. Our society always describes embellished women with naturally tinted complexions as curvy, voluptuous, and sassy. White chubby women however get sent to Jenny Craig with a celery stick because no one likes white rolls unless they're in a basket on the dinner table.
Yet, most unforunately, baking our pasty selves crispy isn't even a viable solution to the pale skin problem because, alack, like drinking, excessive tanning will not only give you wrinkles and skin like leather, it will also gift you with a first class case of skin cancer and kill you slowly and painfully. Ain't that a pip. Just goes to show that everything in life that's fun and makes you feel and look good will only kill you faster.
So the moral of the story is, eat tofu, live in a dark hole underground, and drink only water, and you'll live practically forever, even if you end up looking like an albino and are unable to see in the daylight. Oh wait, no worries, then you can just stake Bella and marry Edward Cullen :)
Once you have consumed alcohol, everyone looks better, more attractive, and a whole lot happier.
Tanning is the same way. When people are tan, they look better, more attractive, and a whole lot happier. Heck, they look down right healthy! In fact, tanning actually makes people look thinner. Really! It's like the only way in the world to drop at least 5 pounds instantly and all you have to do is lay in a tanning bed or on the beach for 10 minutess a day. And if you really wanna look good, you could drink while you're doing it!
In fact, Hispanic and Black women are a prime example of how being un-white makes you look down right sexy. Our society always describes embellished women with naturally tinted complexions as curvy, voluptuous, and sassy. White chubby women however get sent to Jenny Craig with a celery stick because no one likes white rolls unless they're in a basket on the dinner table.
Yet, most unforunately, baking our pasty selves crispy isn't even a viable solution to the pale skin problem because, alack, like drinking, excessive tanning will not only give you wrinkles and skin like leather, it will also gift you with a first class case of skin cancer and kill you slowly and painfully. Ain't that a pip. Just goes to show that everything in life that's fun and makes you feel and look good will only kill you faster.
So the moral of the story is, eat tofu, live in a dark hole underground, and drink only water, and you'll live practically forever, even if you end up looking like an albino and are unable to see in the daylight. Oh wait, no worries, then you can just stake Bella and marry Edward Cullen :)
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Blood Money
I've been trying to avoid this issue for a long time. After all, you're not supposed to bring up sex, religion, or politics, (I guess because everyone is afraid of actually having good conversation) but as a political science major at North Carolina State University (GO PACK!) currently residing in Washington D.C., the time has come to defend my political views.
I am a Republican. Please, refrain from sobbing, screaming, cringing, or throwing rotten vegetables.
I am a Republican because most of the people in my life, some of whom I love very much, are in the military or planning to join the military and the Republican party supports the military better than the democratic party. Now, this is a free country and you are entitled to disagree with me, but allow me to explain myself.
Every Democratic representative I have researched thus far voted against the war in Iraq, but voted to send military forces to Afghanistan and is in favor of not only continuing our stay in the land of Afghans, but also wishes to continue searching for terrorist threats in Pakistan and have spoken positively about sending troops to Libya. However, the same representatives have continually voted against increasing military and department of defense funding. In fact, some wish to decrease it.
Now, can anyone find Waldo and what the hell is wrong with this picture? Whether you agree with any of the aforementioned conflicts is irrelevant, but please, no matter if you are a Libertarian, Communist, Socialist, Democrat, Independent, Green, please understand that we cannot fight the war on terror, or whatever the heck we're doing in Afghanistan or whatever we might do in Libya, on a shoe string budget. In fact, if we try, we risk putting the lives of U.S. troops in danger.
Republicans on the other hand, have continually voted to increase military spending and have drafted a 2012 budget that will increase department of defense funding by
4%. Knowing that my family, my friends, my neighbors, and their, family, friends, and neighbors will have funding to be well equipped in combat is what keeps the nightmares at bay.
So, to all the people out there that have made faces every time I have owned up to my right wing status; now you know, I bleed red in hopes that others won't have to..
I am a Republican. Please, refrain from sobbing, screaming, cringing, or throwing rotten vegetables.
I am a Republican because most of the people in my life, some of whom I love very much, are in the military or planning to join the military and the Republican party supports the military better than the democratic party. Now, this is a free country and you are entitled to disagree with me, but allow me to explain myself.
Every Democratic representative I have researched thus far voted against the war in Iraq, but voted to send military forces to Afghanistan and is in favor of not only continuing our stay in the land of Afghans, but also wishes to continue searching for terrorist threats in Pakistan and have spoken positively about sending troops to Libya. However, the same representatives have continually voted against increasing military and department of defense funding. In fact, some wish to decrease it.
Now, can anyone find Waldo and what the hell is wrong with this picture? Whether you agree with any of the aforementioned conflicts is irrelevant, but please, no matter if you are a Libertarian, Communist, Socialist, Democrat, Independent, Green, please understand that we cannot fight the war on terror, or whatever the heck we're doing in Afghanistan or whatever we might do in Libya, on a shoe string budget. In fact, if we try, we risk putting the lives of U.S. troops in danger.
Republicans on the other hand, have continually voted to increase military spending and have drafted a 2012 budget that will increase department of defense funding by
4%. Knowing that my family, my friends, my neighbors, and their, family, friends, and neighbors will have funding to be well equipped in combat is what keeps the nightmares at bay.
So, to all the people out there that have made faces every time I have owned up to my right wing status; now you know, I bleed red in hopes that others won't have to..
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Tick Tock Goes The Clock
I'm not big on regrets. I don't usually dabble in "what ifs", I like to avoid dwelling on the "could have beens". But I do like to remember. I like to take everything in, drink it up, store it somewhere deep, and then, sometimes before I go to bed, or even on the off chance I have enough free time to let my mind wander, I'll pull out those memories, and I relive them. Not the bad ones, the ones we have to remember so we can learn and grow and never repeat our mistakes. But, the memories of my Grandmother letting me decorate her fire place for Easter the year before she died, the day I watched my parents renew their vows and dance like no one was watching, walking on the beach at 5am the week after my high school graduation-these are the memories I dig up. The ones that make me smile and give me happy dreams,the ones that remind me that I should keep making more.
Life is short. It might not feel that way, after all, the average life expectancy in the U.S. is around 72 years of age, which is nothing to sneeze at, but it really isn't that long. Especially when we throw ourselves against the grindstone and work for tomorrows that never really come. And, trust me, I'm completely guilty as charged, but sometimes regrets are so overwhelming that we let them rule our lives. We allow them to consume our every thought and eventually, the here and now disappears beneath the shoulda woulda couldas of yesterday.
Usually my blogs are ridiculously long rants about nothing too important, but this one doesn't need to be drawn out because the more time you spend reading this, the less time you have to take advantage of what is happening right now. Stop waiting for tomorrow, stop waiting for the rainy days, stop waiting for the almosts, the maybes, the things you can't control; and start living now. Cling to the people you love, call up the people you miss, do that one thing you've been dying to do, just take the time to step outside and look at the beauty that God created for you to enjoy because this is it folks, this is all we get. Because really, when we reach the end of the road, it's the memories: the sunny days, the moonlit nights, the way that special someone looked in the candlelight, that complete us, because in the end, the people we love and the times we share with them are the only things that get left behind. So forgive, forget, and create. :)
Life is short. It might not feel that way, after all, the average life expectancy in the U.S. is around 72 years of age, which is nothing to sneeze at, but it really isn't that long. Especially when we throw ourselves against the grindstone and work for tomorrows that never really come. And, trust me, I'm completely guilty as charged, but sometimes regrets are so overwhelming that we let them rule our lives. We allow them to consume our every thought and eventually, the here and now disappears beneath the shoulda woulda couldas of yesterday.
Usually my blogs are ridiculously long rants about nothing too important, but this one doesn't need to be drawn out because the more time you spend reading this, the less time you have to take advantage of what is happening right now. Stop waiting for tomorrow, stop waiting for the rainy days, stop waiting for the almosts, the maybes, the things you can't control; and start living now. Cling to the people you love, call up the people you miss, do that one thing you've been dying to do, just take the time to step outside and look at the beauty that God created for you to enjoy because this is it folks, this is all we get. Because really, when we reach the end of the road, it's the memories: the sunny days, the moonlit nights, the way that special someone looked in the candlelight, that complete us, because in the end, the people we love and the times we share with them are the only things that get left behind. So forgive, forget, and create. :)
Monday, March 21, 2011
She's got the gifts of one liners, and the curse of curves.
So it's that time of the year again,the major holidays are over, summer is creeping around the seasonal corner, and my skinny jeans are tighter than Snoop in a Cadillac. Now, before people get defensive and offended let me qualify the rest of this blog with this statement- I understand I am not obese in any way, shape, or form, but after wishing I could grease my thighs to get my jeans on this morning, I realized that late night pizza and cook-out shakes, were probably contributing to the food baby bumb growing on my child-bearing hips. So, to remedy this problem I have decided to go back to the gym and "eat healthier" which as we all know, is a euphemism for giving up all things delicious. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy a nice whole wheat bread and a cup of yogurt, but let's be honest, neither one holds a candle to a fresh baked brownie.
Yet, every time I jump back on the healthy bandwagon, I, for whatever reason, ask myself how June Clever kept her girlish figure? Did the house wives of the 50s put on a modest jogging suit, run around the block at a clip, and then come home just in time to throw on some pumps, and baste the turkey? In the midst of this Tim Burton daydream of a Norman Rockwell lifestyle, I remember that these women may not have had fancy gyms or even a pair of tennis shoes, but they did have a secret weapon: a healthy societal body image.
Have you ever seen a pin-up girl? A real one, not a painting, from the 40s, 50s, or 60s? They're gorgeous! They're round, and curvy, and voluptuous, hell, they look so good they made men wanna fight for their country! And the most attractive part about them is that they were real women. They weren't air brushed or spray tanned, they didn't suck, tuck, or shake weight, they just let their bodies do the talkin while men all over the world drooled. It's poetic really. :)
But sadly, this is no longer the case, well, not usually. And ladies, it's really not guys fault. Some may complain, but most (as I have said before) are great guys that think we're beautiful and enjoy a little something to grab onto. We are really our toughest critiques. We pinch, poke, and squeeze, imagining that things are bigger than they are, continuously drawing mustaches on Victoria Secret Models to tame the green eyed monster welling up within. When in fact, there is nothing wrong with us. Did you know that at least once a week women mentally add five pounds to the weight they see in the mirror?!Why do we do it? I mean, it doesn't make us happy.It doesn't do anything for our self-esteem, and if 9 times out of 10, guys think we look fine, then really, what's the point of beating ourselves up on the reg?
One of my favorite quotes of all time is from the movie Eat, Pray, Love inspired by the book written by Elizabeth Gilbert. As Elizabeth and her Swedish friend Sophie sit in a pizzeria in Naples, each devouring their own pie, Elizabeth asks Sophie if she wants another. Sophie balks at the idea. She says she's been gaining weight and her and her boyfriend have started to get more serious so she really shouldn't if she's going to be expected to get naked soon. Before she can make up another excuse however, Elizabeth looks to her and says "Has any man every run away after you've taken your clothes off? No. They've reached their goal and they're not turning back once the gettin is good." And then, they each have another pizza.
Having struggled with my weight all of my life, even at one point battling an eating disorder (which is a lot more common in teenage girls than even the media would have you believe), I know disliking your body can pretty much ruin your life. But I'm done stressing over it, I think we all should be. So,I'm buying new skinny jeans and taking one from June,Elizabeth, and the countless women that lined the foot lockers of both World Wars, and letting the curves do the talking. I'll still go to they gym and probably lay off the 2am pizza, but only because I want to prolong my life span lol. I refuse however, to pinch, cinch, suck, poke, prode, or squeeze, because I think it's time we started to love ourselves again, brownies and all. :)
Sunday, February 27, 2011
I should just pay you to teach me how to dougie
I didn't realize that college was a euphemism for: more pointless classes. Except this time, you have to pay for them.
In high school, I can remember wondering why I had to take pointless classes in so many subjects that I was never going to use in my adult life. Granted, I enjoyed some of them, but let's be honest with ourselves, not one of my future employers are going to ask me to name all of the major rivers in America and demand I draw them on a map to prove that I indeed the best gal for the job.
Yet, these are the tests that I had to study for my Junior year of high school.
But, I muddled through. I pushed, I stressed, I succeeded, I failed, I toiled, I squeaked by, I managed, I survived four years in a cell block prison, following the man's rules and learning what I could from the few exceptional teachers I did have. Mentally rolling my eyes at the one's that didn't want to be there any more than I did, all so I would be rewarded. So I could finally go to college, a place where I was sure I would finally find the intellectual stimulation I have always craved. A place where I could study what I wanted and leave the nonsensical hullabaloo behind.
What a red herring.
Since arriving to my location of higher education, I find myself slipping into the same vicious cycle of mundane, inane, shenanigans. I have to pay for, and take, classes I don't care about. Classes that will never help me get into law school or onto capitol hill. Classes in which I have to do assignments that no one will even grade. Classes that require ridiculously long papers that my professors don't want to read. Papers, that are graded more on how much I agree with my instructor or how many complex sentences I use,rather than my actual grasp of the concepts presented in class. And when I'm sitting in a lecture, asking questions, trying to start discussion, really trying to dig into a concept; I'm more or less brushed off and politely told that I have no idea what I'm talking about because I do not have a PHD. Honestly, I've just had enough.
In this country we push education. We demand everyone go to school until the age of 16 and if you drop-out, you're considered a social deviant that will never amount to anything. We cut arts funding and stifle creativity. We discontinue vocational training, forcing potential electricians and mechanics to wither away in science class, coloring diagrams of cells, wishing they were anywhere else. We create tests to measure progress and find fault, when they really prove neither. We demand that kids become "well rounded", that they break there necks doing hundreds of things they really don't want to do to get to college only to do it all over again and graduate feeling like they still haven't learned anything useful. Still lost. Still wanting to know what they should be when they grow up.
Why is that? Why do we stop discussions in classrooms before they even start? Why do we force kids to take classes they don't want? Why do we teach everything for a test that won't matter when the bills need to be paid and the rent is due? Really, I don't think anyone could give me a satisfactory answer, but here's my suggestion:
Let people learn how to think, not what to think. Let artsy kids create. Give mechanically minded kids an outlet. Put the tests away and connect with a classroom. Indulge kids, let them learn what they want, let them get really good at one thing instead of expecting them to be good in a thousand things that don't really interest them anyway.
In the eternal words of the Beatles - Let it be. Life is too short to waste with all of this bureaucratic red-tape. It's time we started cultivating minds that are content and confident in their abilities. Not hazy mounds of grey matter jam packed with needless information that will just get data dumped to make room for the topics on the next exam.
In high school, I can remember wondering why I had to take pointless classes in so many subjects that I was never going to use in my adult life. Granted, I enjoyed some of them, but let's be honest with ourselves, not one of my future employers are going to ask me to name all of the major rivers in America and demand I draw them on a map to prove that I indeed the best gal for the job.
Yet, these are the tests that I had to study for my Junior year of high school.
But, I muddled through. I pushed, I stressed, I succeeded, I failed, I toiled, I squeaked by, I managed, I survived four years in a cell block prison, following the man's rules and learning what I could from the few exceptional teachers I did have. Mentally rolling my eyes at the one's that didn't want to be there any more than I did, all so I would be rewarded. So I could finally go to college, a place where I was sure I would finally find the intellectual stimulation I have always craved. A place where I could study what I wanted and leave the nonsensical hullabaloo behind.
What a red herring.
Since arriving to my location of higher education, I find myself slipping into the same vicious cycle of mundane, inane, shenanigans. I have to pay for, and take, classes I don't care about. Classes that will never help me get into law school or onto capitol hill. Classes in which I have to do assignments that no one will even grade. Classes that require ridiculously long papers that my professors don't want to read. Papers, that are graded more on how much I agree with my instructor or how many complex sentences I use,rather than my actual grasp of the concepts presented in class. And when I'm sitting in a lecture, asking questions, trying to start discussion, really trying to dig into a concept; I'm more or less brushed off and politely told that I have no idea what I'm talking about because I do not have a PHD. Honestly, I've just had enough.
In this country we push education. We demand everyone go to school until the age of 16 and if you drop-out, you're considered a social deviant that will never amount to anything. We cut arts funding and stifle creativity. We discontinue vocational training, forcing potential electricians and mechanics to wither away in science class, coloring diagrams of cells, wishing they were anywhere else. We create tests to measure progress and find fault, when they really prove neither. We demand that kids become "well rounded", that they break there necks doing hundreds of things they really don't want to do to get to college only to do it all over again and graduate feeling like they still haven't learned anything useful. Still lost. Still wanting to know what they should be when they grow up.
Why is that? Why do we stop discussions in classrooms before they even start? Why do we force kids to take classes they don't want? Why do we teach everything for a test that won't matter when the bills need to be paid and the rent is due? Really, I don't think anyone could give me a satisfactory answer, but here's my suggestion:
Let people learn how to think, not what to think. Let artsy kids create. Give mechanically minded kids an outlet. Put the tests away and connect with a classroom. Indulge kids, let them learn what they want, let them get really good at one thing instead of expecting them to be good in a thousand things that don't really interest them anyway.
In the eternal words of the Beatles - Let it be. Life is too short to waste with all of this bureaucratic red-tape. It's time we started cultivating minds that are content and confident in their abilities. Not hazy mounds of grey matter jam packed with needless information that will just get data dumped to make room for the topics on the next exam.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Good Girls Go Bad
Women, for whatever reason, are always attracted to what society likes to call "bad boys". We do. We love their dominant demeanor, their broody personalities, and of course, their wild, care-free, seemingly invincible out-look on life. They make us feel protected and their wily ways make us feel like we must tame them. They are a challenge, a mystery, and incredibly sexy. They're what we dream about, and, 99% of the time they're the reason we cry ourselves to sleep, become best friends with Ben and Jerry, and question/despise everything we ever loved about ourselves. Because, sexy or not, they're, for lack of a more eloquent phrase, douche bags. And lately, they seem to have multiplied in number,infecting the masses faster than swine flu and breaking more hearts than McDonald's. The cause of this epidemic? A little ol' phrase I've heard muttered by some of the most outstanding men in this world- "Nice guys finish last" (minds out of the gutter please, this is serious business).
Every time I hear a fine upstanding gentlemen tell me they regret their chivalrous ways and kind heart, because girls walk all over them and end up dating/sleeping with/marrying a leather clad *insert foul slang word for male genitalia* I am incensed!
"What is wrong with these women?" I exclaim. "Don't they understand that you think they're perfect in every way and their prick of a boyfriend critiques them into shamed submission?!"
But,as true as my blunt ejaculations are, they make me a hypocrite, because I too continuously chase after the bad boys. I pray, beg, and plead even, for love to come my way. I cry out to the heavens "Dear God! Bring me a man like Bruno Mars who will love me just the way I am! Who will catch a grenade for me even if I kiss him with my eyes wide open!" And now, in hindsight of course because no one ever sees clearly any other way, I see that God has given me many Brunos to fawn over. Attractive men. Strong men. Sexy Men! Men that have lofty goals and ambitions! who are genuinely good people that just want to find a girl and make her happy. To give her the world on a silver platter. They even want to be faithful! I mean, these guys are the real deal, shining armour and everything.
And I always wrote them off, as so many of us do, because they were so easy to love. There was no fight for acceptance, no dysfunction to re-figure, and no guess work. Oh,the money I could have saved on daises with these men! Never having to sit for hours anxiously chanting "he loves me, he loves me not".But time and time again, I walked away from happiness and strode into the steroid assisted arms of confliction and low self-esteem. Because, for whatever reason, our culture has brain washed me and my fellow females to believe that if you aren't fighting, or if you aren't working at it, your relationship is almost, indefinitely broken. So we seek out challenges we never win and, most unfortunately, break the sweetest of hearts.
So this blog is an apology to all the good guys out there. To the white horse riding, armour clad, dragon slaying men who have been fooled, by many women, into believing they "just aren't good enough"; I am truly sorry. You are never given enough credit and always seem to get the short end of the stick. You get cheated on, used, heck, you might even have been abused, and you most definitely finish last. But, only because God saves the best for last. For, after we've had enough of the bad boy blues, we come back, battle scarred and bedraggled, begging you to give us another chance, dying to be rescued from our tower. And, then, after many more apologies and a few dinners before and after a couple dozen movies, you live happily ever after.
Every time I hear a fine upstanding gentlemen tell me they regret their chivalrous ways and kind heart, because girls walk all over them and end up dating/sleeping with/marrying a leather clad *insert foul slang word for male genitalia* I am incensed!
"What is wrong with these women?" I exclaim. "Don't they understand that you think they're perfect in every way and their prick of a boyfriend critiques them into shamed submission?!"
But,as true as my blunt ejaculations are, they make me a hypocrite, because I too continuously chase after the bad boys. I pray, beg, and plead even, for love to come my way. I cry out to the heavens "Dear God! Bring me a man like Bruno Mars who will love me just the way I am! Who will catch a grenade for me even if I kiss him with my eyes wide open!" And now, in hindsight of course because no one ever sees clearly any other way, I see that God has given me many Brunos to fawn over. Attractive men. Strong men. Sexy Men! Men that have lofty goals and ambitions! who are genuinely good people that just want to find a girl and make her happy. To give her the world on a silver platter. They even want to be faithful! I mean, these guys are the real deal, shining armour and everything.
And I always wrote them off, as so many of us do, because they were so easy to love. There was no fight for acceptance, no dysfunction to re-figure, and no guess work. Oh,the money I could have saved on daises with these men! Never having to sit for hours anxiously chanting "he loves me, he loves me not".But time and time again, I walked away from happiness and strode into the steroid assisted arms of confliction and low self-esteem. Because, for whatever reason, our culture has brain washed me and my fellow females to believe that if you aren't fighting, or if you aren't working at it, your relationship is almost, indefinitely broken. So we seek out challenges we never win and, most unfortunately, break the sweetest of hearts.
So this blog is an apology to all the good guys out there. To the white horse riding, armour clad, dragon slaying men who have been fooled, by many women, into believing they "just aren't good enough"; I am truly sorry. You are never given enough credit and always seem to get the short end of the stick. You get cheated on, used, heck, you might even have been abused, and you most definitely finish last. But, only because God saves the best for last. For, after we've had enough of the bad boy blues, we come back, battle scarred and bedraggled, begging you to give us another chance, dying to be rescued from our tower. And, then, after many more apologies and a few dinners before and after a couple dozen movies, you live happily ever after.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Case of the Pimpled Pincher
If you haven't already heard, I was robbed this morning. A squeaky clean thief with a love of fine toiletries, filched my rather pricey shampoo, conditioner, and face wash which included a rather relaxing and effective "scrublet". After being completely flabbergasted by the situation and writing a scathing facebook status (which was both assertive and entertaining so I could get as many "likes" as possible :p),I begrudgingly accepted the fact that the pilferer was never going to return their plunder. Then I decided to write this blog and assess the state of humanity which I have decided is as disheartening as cardiac arrest.
Once upon a time a man named Henry David Thoreau went to a pond named Walden and wrote a really boring book about living all alone in the northern wilderness with nothing but a pond with a charming name and a bean field. And even though the book is about as thrilling as watching grass grow and red ants battle each other for a grasshopper carcass, Thoreau managed to make one really valid point-people only steal because they are without. He believed if everyone had all of the same things and lived in the same social class, we would not only be communists, we would eradicate the art of thievery because no one would be left wanting.
It was this tid bit of philosophy that I attempted to use to understand why someone would take, not my entire shower basket complete with wash cloth, razor, and body wash, but simply my "big sexy curls" haircare products and blemish controlling foam. This is my conclusion:
I don't care if they had flat hair and zits and wanted sexy curls and blemish free skin, we are not at Walden pond, we are not communists, and I want my freaking stuff back :) Ground breaking right? I thought so.
So to everyone out there, just know that we no longer live in a world where you can leave your windows open and doors unlocked. You can't let your kids run wild until the street lights come on, and you most certainly cannot leave your shower caddy in a college bathroom. Because Car, Kids, or beauty products, if it's not nailed down, someone will take it and, like that hilarious and no famous black man on Youtube says, "they rapein' errbody out here" so do as he says and "hide ya kids, hide ya wife, and hide ya husbands too".
Once upon a time a man named Henry David Thoreau went to a pond named Walden and wrote a really boring book about living all alone in the northern wilderness with nothing but a pond with a charming name and a bean field. And even though the book is about as thrilling as watching grass grow and red ants battle each other for a grasshopper carcass, Thoreau managed to make one really valid point-people only steal because they are without. He believed if everyone had all of the same things and lived in the same social class, we would not only be communists, we would eradicate the art of thievery because no one would be left wanting.
It was this tid bit of philosophy that I attempted to use to understand why someone would take, not my entire shower basket complete with wash cloth, razor, and body wash, but simply my "big sexy curls" haircare products and blemish controlling foam. This is my conclusion:
I don't care if they had flat hair and zits and wanted sexy curls and blemish free skin, we are not at Walden pond, we are not communists, and I want my freaking stuff back :) Ground breaking right? I thought so.
So to everyone out there, just know that we no longer live in a world where you can leave your windows open and doors unlocked. You can't let your kids run wild until the street lights come on, and you most certainly cannot leave your shower caddy in a college bathroom. Because Car, Kids, or beauty products, if it's not nailed down, someone will take it and, like that hilarious and no famous black man on Youtube says, "they rapein' errbody out here" so do as he says and "hide ya kids, hide ya wife, and hide ya husbands too".
Thursday, January 6, 2011
A Dream is a Wish your Heart Makes
It is 3:00 in the morning and I'm trying to think of extremely intelligent and witty things to say to the hundreds of people who have been reading my blog. It tickles me positively pink that you're all out there, curious tourists visiting the ruins of my mind, wearing socks with your sandals and ridiculous hats made of straw that you will never wear again after the trip is over. It will however, sit in the back of your closet collecting dust next to fur coat you inherited from your great aunt Eunice but can't actually wear because the world will call you a murderer even though you don't own a club and have never been within bludgeoning distance of a baby seal. But the truth is, it's way to early in the morning to be clever so I'm just going to stop trying so hard and come out with it- I really don't think we should have to grow up.
Little kids dream. They dream all the time without boundaries. They may not be able to read, or write, or color between the lines, but by Golly they are going to grow up and become an Astronaut if it kills them. And the great thing is, they don't stop dreaming. They don't stop dreaming until they graduate from college and suddenly, even though they can read, and write, and even color between the lines, they're not smart enough to become an Astronaut. Not even with an engineering degree from the best school in the world....
Why? Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we throw away our dreams when we get older or eventually refuse to dream at all? Why do we let ourselves slip into the mundane rat race of life after working so hard to make the little kid inside of us proud?
I've heard people say that they let their dreams die because they got new dreams. Dreams of picket fences and baby carriages, and as long as they're happy, I don't see the problem. After all, I've known people that all they've ever wanted to do was become a parent, but what about everyone else who fell into a cold hard reality by default. Those who were told, or imagined, that their dreams were just too big, that they should set the bar a little lower because otherwise, they'll just be disappointed? I don't see many of those people with smiles on their faces and songs in their hearts.
So here it is, the Peter Pan cure to hopelessness, refuse to grow up. Dream, imagine, create, develop, plan, scheme, plot-just don't settle for safe. I know it's a lot easier said than done, but we really do live this life once. Why not do it up right? Why not shoot for the stars and not stop until you're out of the Milky Way? Personally, I see no reason not to want it all and then go back for more, especially because I'd rather die knowing that I lived the dream, than die dreaming of how I could have lived.
Little kids dream. They dream all the time without boundaries. They may not be able to read, or write, or color between the lines, but by Golly they are going to grow up and become an Astronaut if it kills them. And the great thing is, they don't stop dreaming. They don't stop dreaming until they graduate from college and suddenly, even though they can read, and write, and even color between the lines, they're not smart enough to become an Astronaut. Not even with an engineering degree from the best school in the world....
Why? Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we throw away our dreams when we get older or eventually refuse to dream at all? Why do we let ourselves slip into the mundane rat race of life after working so hard to make the little kid inside of us proud?
I've heard people say that they let their dreams die because they got new dreams. Dreams of picket fences and baby carriages, and as long as they're happy, I don't see the problem. After all, I've known people that all they've ever wanted to do was become a parent, but what about everyone else who fell into a cold hard reality by default. Those who were told, or imagined, that their dreams were just too big, that they should set the bar a little lower because otherwise, they'll just be disappointed? I don't see many of those people with smiles on their faces and songs in their hearts.
So here it is, the Peter Pan cure to hopelessness, refuse to grow up. Dream, imagine, create, develop, plan, scheme, plot-just don't settle for safe. I know it's a lot easier said than done, but we really do live this life once. Why not do it up right? Why not shoot for the stars and not stop until you're out of the Milky Way? Personally, I see no reason not to want it all and then go back for more, especially because I'd rather die knowing that I lived the dream, than die dreaming of how I could have lived.
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