I'm sure I've bitched about social media before but before I unleashed a status that I'm sure will warrant some unfriending, I thought I'd write something with context.
You know that stereotype of the unfortunate puppy? That puppy at the shelter that is skittish, has an inexplicable water-and-cleaner resistant odor, missing half it's hair, isn't so bright, and is a little jacked in the face that you take home, thinking it will be like a 90s date movie where the girl pulls off her glasses/you give the puppy some TLC makes the girl/puppy happy and attractive but all it does is continually pee and puke all over your carpet, 6 inches away from the tile?
That, to me, is Facebook.
I really want to like Facebook and stick with it but, my.god., I cannot help but feel exhausted and/or frustrated 95% of the time.
Before I continue, I want to clarify that I'm not specifically calling out anyone. It's rare that I follow one person's profile intensely (when I do, it's because they just got married and I want to see ALL the wedding photos--so I creep on you hardcore, just fyi). I mostly scroll the newsfeed and get a composite profile of all my friends.
From this, my friends are highly educated, very angry and active, feminists with the occasional really conservative Christian viewpoint.
Can we have a moment to acknowledge the struggle of ironic posts and titles? Because when you have a blend of social and political standpoints displayed as you're quickly scrolling through "news", I frequently miss that your piece is a satire. I genuinely thought you were a racist/sexist dick.
Before you start mumbling how I could unfriend people, I KNOW. I DON'T WANT TO. I like the posts of two former classmates adventures raising chickens. I'm deeply concerned for a friend I don't see often enough and her struggle with Lymes (it's tick season, people, be careful!). A friend from middle school goes on the wildest trips and I sit here brewing in love and hate/jealousy over the stunning pictures. A friend of my partners has hilarious posts.
I don't want to unfriend people. I don't want to unfollow them. I don't want to miss out on what's going on in their lives--did they get engaged/married (because I'm creeping the SHIT out of those photos)? Did a pet or loved one pass? Are they having a rough time and I need to sincerely make an effort to contact them? Did they move some place cool or start a new job?
This is 85-90% (depends on my mood) of what I want to use Facebook for.
5-10% of the time, I want funny animal videos, awesome graphs on how to make healthy smoothies, and funny statuses on crazy things that happen during your day.
0-5% of the time, I want political, well-written, opinion pieces on what's going on in the world.
And as I am friends with a plethora of wonderful, well-educated people, content percentages are the opposite--85-90% of my feed are opinion pieces, 5-10% are funny things, 0-5% are life changes.
For example, in the last 4 hours people have posted about the following:
-selfie (nothing unique)
-the systematic ignoring of Black issues
-cat photo
-the unfortunate appearance of creationism (at the expense of evolution) in education
-yet another "unbelievable" a cappella cover of "Let It Go"
-yet another "unbelievable" a cappella cover of "Cups"
-yet another "unbelievable" a cappella... I believe it. People can sing better than me. Not like that bar is very high
-public pools urine content (gross)
-cat photo
-comparisons of the Confederate flag to the Nazi flag
-comparisons of the Confederate flag to the Pride flag
-will Jon Snow come back to Game of Thrones (he won't, let it go)?
-condoms that change color in contact with STIs
-the social implications of a condom that changes color in contact with STIs
-selfie (nothing unique)
-what happens when you're drunk
-sex education expansion in certain states
-sex education reduction in certain states
-you "won't believe" how this dog takes care of this cat
-you "won't believe" how this lion remembers its human owner
-you "won't believe"... again, I believe it. Trans-species relationships have been a things since this time called forever
-people for Bernie Sanders
-people for Hilary Clinton
-people against Donald Trump
-cat photo
-people raising awareness for rape culture
-selfie (in a historical location)
-the Charleston shootings
-the racial implications of the Charleston shootings
-superhero corgi cookies
-Philadelphia parking nightmares
-selfie (nothing unique)
-Malcolm X quotes
-Martin Luther King, Jr. quotes
-other random inspirational quotes from famous people of color
-why White people should never post quotes from people of color
-dog photo
-supporting the relentlessly gay fund
-arguing that the relentlessly gay fund was a hoax
-hoaxes inspired by the relentlessly gay fund
-20 child photos
-Caps opener is October 10th at the Devils (boooo Devils!)
-cat photo
By the time I get to the article about how Inside Out is another example of how Pixar encourages children to insult people with intellectual disabilities by having characters call each other "moron", "idiot", "mongo", and the like, I have run out of fucks to give.
Which is a shame, because the article has a valid concern.
And I've seen people post "If you don't give a shit about x, just unfriend me." I do give a shit about x! I want to hear your opinion about it! I want to know about the topics you are passionate
about; that's why we're Facebook friends. I really do want your opinion
on what is a good piece about a given subject. I just cannot muster the
empathy proportionate to my newsfeed. You may only post one or two opinion pieces a day but my composite Facebook friend posts A LOT. CONSTANTLY.
I just really want Facebook to have filters--one of people's "life events", another of "interests and funny things", and a final for "opinions--sometimes, frequently, controversial". When I'm in a good place to hear out your thoughts, I can click on the appropriate filter without becoming numbed and overwhelmed with 60+ people's passions.
I would also like to acknowledge that this post has contributed nothing to people's understanding of what is going on in my life.
June 24, 2015
January 4, 2015
2015 Goals
This year, I'm going to do 52 week-long crash courses on new habits, skills, and goals. Because, let's face it, any resolutions I could make will fail immediately. So I think, aim for the short-term and enjoy the experience and hopefully some things turn into new habits.
Here's the list. Don't judge me on some things.
1. learn about cars
2. get involved in CARAS
3. create a class
4. wear heels for 14 hours total
5. get involved in SSSS
6. cook through recipes
7. treat yo'self!
8. sell some stuff
9. create therapy forms
10. get involved in Girl Scouts
11. change jewelry daily
12. make crafts
13. read articles
14. brush teeth twice a day (as opposed to twice a day MOST days)
15. increase vocabulary
16. study for comps
17. read daily
18. play pool daily
19. finish a book
20. wear makeup daily
21. create therapy handouts
22. learn to sew
23. sort baskets
24. make a piece of furniture
25. go on a trip
26. get involved in AAMFT
27. create and stick to a budget
28. put on lotion 4 times
29. waist train 4 times
30. learn to play drums
31. take a Coursera course
32. meet step goals everyday
33. therapy research
34. cut back on sodium
35. empieza a aprender Español
36. research journals
37. scrapbook 4 pages
38. get re-certified in archery
39. get rid of stuff
40. teaching jobs
41. drink required amount of water
42. cut back on sugar
43. lernen sie Deutsch
44. eat exact calories
45. execute perfect social media
46. learn marketing/small business
47. got to the gym 6 times
48. be more positive
49. learn statistics
50. execute good sleep habits
51. network and reconnect
52. create goals for 2015
Boom. One down.
Here's the list. Don't judge me on some things.
1. learn about cars
2. get involved in CARAS
3. create a class
4. wear heels for 14 hours total
5. get involved in SSSS
6. cook through recipes
7. treat yo'self!
8. sell some stuff
9. create therapy forms
10. get involved in Girl Scouts
11. change jewelry daily
12. make crafts
13. read articles
14. brush teeth twice a day (as opposed to twice a day MOST days)
15. increase vocabulary
16. study for comps
17. read daily
18. play pool daily
19. finish a book
20. wear makeup daily
21. create therapy handouts
22. learn to sew
23. sort baskets
24. make a piece of furniture
25. go on a trip
26. get involved in AAMFT
27. create and stick to a budget
28. put on lotion 4 times
29. waist train 4 times
30. learn to play drums
31. take a Coursera course
32. meet step goals everyday
33. therapy research
34. cut back on sodium
35. empieza a aprender Español
36. research journals
37. scrapbook 4 pages
38. get re-certified in archery
39. get rid of stuff
40. teaching jobs
41. drink required amount of water
42. cut back on sugar
43. lernen sie Deutsch
44. eat exact calories
45. execute perfect social media
46. learn marketing/small business
47. got to the gym 6 times
48. be more positive
49. learn statistics
50. execute good sleep habits
51. network and reconnect
52. create goals for 2015
Boom. One down.
August 11, 2014
Food Chat
Before we dive right into this, I have to warn everyone, I'll be talking about you. My friends. My family. Acquaintances. People I don't care for very much. Everyone.
This week has been filled with lots of examples of talking about food and health. I think it's because most of us do not get proper education on nutrition things tend to go off-script, get ambiguous, and become super-subjective super-fast.
So I'll warn everyone, all of these posts are MY ventures into healthier processes as I define them. I have zero proper education on it, nor am I really interested in getting proper education. Like the message in my last post, food is tedious. I'm sure an education in food and health may cause me to grow a tail, breathe fire and smash all the villages.
But here's a fast question--why aren't we teaching about nutrition? I was having a conversation with one of my friends about the healthcare system and I tried to make the point that "good" healthcare and "health" are very subjective but the only examples I could come up with at the time were "ViagraViagraViagraAbortionViagraViagraABORTIONViagra". I ended up saying I didn't have an example because I try hard (GET IT?! Viagra? Hard? Ok... sorry) to not become the one-trick pony that is sexuality but I'm getting 2 degrees in human sexuality...
... so it's hard.
ANYWAY! I should've come up with nutrition and health. It's so subjective and ... subject?... huh... subject to change with the times. Regardless, I feel like food health should be taught in grade school and should really cross the... subjects... like you would talk about the molecular structure of protein and anatomy in biology; how to calculate calories and convert between 50 measurements of food in math; how culture and people talk about health in English; learn cooking vocabulary in Spanish... but cross all areas of learning so that students have complete and practical comprehension of nutrition--not bullshit that you never use and therefore forget by the time you're an adult (I'm looking at you, Are you Smarter Than a 5th Grader?).
subject.
So anyway, back to me. This week there were also the social venues when (usually the women) band together to talk about how they ran 50 miles today and then they ate blahblahblah. My wonderful friends are athletes. I am, what the French would call, not. The most energy-consuming and coordinated thing I do these days is precariously balance food on dishes/bowls/napkins/hands/llamas down the stairs, to the couch, and while turning on my TV, my DVD player, and grabbing remotes. It's a delicate but majestic process, worthy of Cirque de Soliel, as soon as they become cool with cursing. But as a non-athletic person, when my dear friends start talking about running, I immediately start to think of all the chips I enjoy and how if I had a brownie for every time my friends talked about diets and running...
... I'd be a diabetic.
And it's not just my overly-patient friends, it's others (like my grandmother's neighbor this weekend) too, forcing me into a dialogue about my health which almost ALWAYS comes from a place of knowing more/being better than me. I helped my grandmother move out of rehabilitation this weekend and as we're eating lunch at her home, her neighbor came in to check on my grandmother's recovery from hip surgery. I knew the process was going to take all day so I PACKED ALL MY FOOD. I mean I packed snacks, my lunch, my breakfast. I did it. I showed a level of commitment for this eating healthier thing I have never shown before.
I'm pretty amped about it.
My lunch was a new smoothie concoction that I had tried the day before with revolting results. I decided to try the combination again because it was high in fiber, high in protein but removed the high vom-factor of protein powder. The fact that people can eat that powdery crap is proof of Darwin's theory--healthy people have a genetic mutation that eliminates taste and food texture sensitivities so that they can power through rancid but healthy things and live longer than all the rest of us who have working taste buds. My grandmother and aunt had just finished giving me shit when the neighbor walked in. Yes, I had my smoothie in a basket-pattern Mason jar. It was all that there was available in the house besides baby food jars. And yes, the result looked like I had taken a pipe wrench to the underside of the sink and filled said basket jar with the garbage disposal contents. And yes, it sort of tasted like that but in a sweet and tolerable (note: not delicious) form. But the neighbor walks in and immediately inquires about this fanciful basket jar sludge I was ingesting through a smile that looked like I was REALLY trying not to regret my healthier decisions.
I have quickly learned that people will always ask what's in your smoothie. It makes me think of this CSI episode where this one nutritionist was making human blood/organ powder smoothies (talk about subjective health and nutrition...) because she had Renfield's Syndrome or at least claimed that she did. How the hell did this woman go for years eating people without being bothered to list her smoothie secrets?! Anyway, most of the time people genuinely don't care what's in your smoothie. It's almost like this compulsion to reduce ambiguity. You could say that there's panda tears, bamboo stalks, and soy sauce in it and it's called the "Karma Express" and has been known by the Asian Chinese for years to center your chi... or something. It doesn't have to make sense--karma is part of Hindu traditions, most commonly associated with Indian culture and chi is from Buddhism--no one notices. It doesn't matter most of the time. But every other time (like this one with the neighbor), they do care and want to know what you dared to put in your blender. Mainly for the purpose of judging it.
And, ok, that's a negative way to look at it. But their response does come from this place of feeling they know better about smoothie experiences. I listed my ingredients and woefully ended with "It all sounds good but combined... the taste? Not so much." There was no request for recipes, no suggestions for improvements, just stating the facts. I. don't. like. this. But I had to be polite and listen through a smoothie recipe the neighbor swore by (swore what? Who knows. I don't care.). When the first ingredient was kale I tried to say, "I cannot stand kale. Someone" playful glare towards my grandmother "who may or may not be at this table totally scarred me for life with kale. I think it tastes bitter."
"Oh you don't taste it! Spinach is the one with the bitter taste!"
... sigh...
Let me go and think about the chips I like and about how if I had a brownie for every time I expressed my opinion and received a response that acted like the total opposite was fact, I would be a diabetic.
Let me also say that I totally judge too. Actually, judging is where I AM an athlete. Jump to a judge in a single bound, I do. And I judge the shit out of other people's food choices. Today my mom told me that my dad has high blood sugar so he has chosen to cut out his snack peanut butter crackers but not his pudding or Little Debbie's treats... look me in the eye and tell me you don't judge the shit out of that food choice. I'm training my mind to think in sugar grams and sodium milligrams. It's to help myself. So I get it, Mimi's neighbor, my friends, healthy-minded people--you train your mind to think healthy and it's hard to remember that not everyone is programmed that way. Just like my mind has formed a distinct sex-subjects funnel, it doesn't mean that there isn't more to the world.
There's also more images in this world than this ridiculous dog. But it's funny and I'm lazy.
This week has been filled with lots of examples of talking about food and health. I think it's because most of us do not get proper education on nutrition things tend to go off-script, get ambiguous, and become super-subjective super-fast.
So I'll warn everyone, all of these posts are MY ventures into healthier processes as I define them. I have zero proper education on it, nor am I really interested in getting proper education. Like the message in my last post, food is tedious. I'm sure an education in food and health may cause me to grow a tail, breathe fire and smash all the villages.
But here's a fast question--why aren't we teaching about nutrition? I was having a conversation with one of my friends about the healthcare system and I tried to make the point that "good" healthcare and "health" are very subjective but the only examples I could come up with at the time were "ViagraViagraViagraAbortionViagraViagraABORTIONViagra". I ended up saying I didn't have an example because I try hard (GET IT?! Viagra? Hard? Ok... sorry) to not become the one-trick pony that is sexuality but I'm getting 2 degrees in human sexuality...
... so it's hard.
ANYWAY! I should've come up with nutrition and health. It's so subjective and ... subject?... huh... subject to change with the times. Regardless, I feel like food health should be taught in grade school and should really cross the... subjects... like you would talk about the molecular structure of protein and anatomy in biology; how to calculate calories and convert between 50 measurements of food in math; how culture and people talk about health in English; learn cooking vocabulary in Spanish... but cross all areas of learning so that students have complete and practical comprehension of nutrition--not bullshit that you never use and therefore forget by the time you're an adult (I'm looking at you, Are you Smarter Than a 5th Grader?).
subject.
So anyway, back to me. This week there were also the social venues when (usually the women) band together to talk about how they ran 50 miles today and then they ate blahblahblah. My wonderful friends are athletes. I am, what the French would call, not. The most energy-consuming and coordinated thing I do these days is precariously balance food on dishes/bowls/napkins/hands/llamas down the stairs, to the couch, and while turning on my TV, my DVD player, and grabbing remotes. It's a delicate but majestic process, worthy of Cirque de Soliel, as soon as they become cool with cursing. But as a non-athletic person, when my dear friends start talking about running, I immediately start to think of all the chips I enjoy and how if I had a brownie for every time my friends talked about diets and running...
... I'd be a diabetic.
And it's not just my overly-patient friends, it's others (like my grandmother's neighbor this weekend) too, forcing me into a dialogue about my health which almost ALWAYS comes from a place of knowing more/being better than me. I helped my grandmother move out of rehabilitation this weekend and as we're eating lunch at her home, her neighbor came in to check on my grandmother's recovery from hip surgery. I knew the process was going to take all day so I PACKED ALL MY FOOD. I mean I packed snacks, my lunch, my breakfast. I did it. I showed a level of commitment for this eating healthier thing I have never shown before.
I'm pretty amped about it.
My lunch was a new smoothie concoction that I had tried the day before with revolting results. I decided to try the combination again because it was high in fiber, high in protein but removed the high vom-factor of protein powder. The fact that people can eat that powdery crap is proof of Darwin's theory--healthy people have a genetic mutation that eliminates taste and food texture sensitivities so that they can power through rancid but healthy things and live longer than all the rest of us who have working taste buds. My grandmother and aunt had just finished giving me shit when the neighbor walked in. Yes, I had my smoothie in a basket-pattern Mason jar. It was all that there was available in the house besides baby food jars. And yes, the result looked like I had taken a pipe wrench to the underside of the sink and filled said basket jar with the garbage disposal contents. And yes, it sort of tasted like that but in a sweet and tolerable (note: not delicious) form. But the neighbor walks in and immediately inquires about this fanciful basket jar sludge I was ingesting through a smile that looked like I was REALLY trying not to regret my healthier decisions.
I have quickly learned that people will always ask what's in your smoothie. It makes me think of this CSI episode where this one nutritionist was making human blood/organ powder smoothies (talk about subjective health and nutrition...) because she had Renfield's Syndrome or at least claimed that she did. How the hell did this woman go for years eating people without being bothered to list her smoothie secrets?! Anyway, most of the time people genuinely don't care what's in your smoothie. It's almost like this compulsion to reduce ambiguity. You could say that there's panda tears, bamboo stalks, and soy sauce in it and it's called the "Karma Express" and has been known by the Asian Chinese for years to center your chi... or something. It doesn't have to make sense--karma is part of Hindu traditions, most commonly associated with Indian culture and chi is from Buddhism--no one notices. It doesn't matter most of the time. But every other time (like this one with the neighbor), they do care and want to know what you dared to put in your blender. Mainly for the purpose of judging it.
And, ok, that's a negative way to look at it. But their response does come from this place of feeling they know better about smoothie experiences. I listed my ingredients and woefully ended with "It all sounds good but combined... the taste? Not so much." There was no request for recipes, no suggestions for improvements, just stating the facts. I. don't. like. this. But I had to be polite and listen through a smoothie recipe the neighbor swore by (swore what? Who knows. I don't care.). When the first ingredient was kale I tried to say, "I cannot stand kale. Someone" playful glare towards my grandmother "who may or may not be at this table totally scarred me for life with kale. I think it tastes bitter."
"Oh you don't taste it! Spinach is the one with the bitter taste!"
... sigh...
Let me go and think about the chips I like and about how if I had a brownie for every time I expressed my opinion and received a response that acted like the total opposite was fact, I would be a diabetic.
Let me also say that I totally judge too. Actually, judging is where I AM an athlete. Jump to a judge in a single bound, I do. And I judge the shit out of other people's food choices. Today my mom told me that my dad has high blood sugar so he has chosen to cut out his snack peanut butter crackers but not his pudding or Little Debbie's treats... look me in the eye and tell me you don't judge the shit out of that food choice. I'm training my mind to think in sugar grams and sodium milligrams. It's to help myself. So I get it, Mimi's neighbor, my friends, healthy-minded people--you train your mind to think healthy and it's hard to remember that not everyone is programmed that way. Just like my mind has formed a distinct sex-subjects funnel, it doesn't mean that there isn't more to the world.
August 7, 2014
True Confessions: I'm Addicted to Food
Now, I'll admit that exercise was at least somewhat effective for depressive symptoms. At my exercise peak, I had the energy to do a lot more than usual... once I found the motivation (which exercise did NOT cure thankyouverymuch).
I will also admit, my life does revolve around food. There's been *cough* several times when I go to meet with someone, particularly my boyfriend, and they want to go to a store or something and I respond with, "Yea! That sounds great! After food though. Right? Right. Food."
There was zero shame to my game.
But here, in part 2 of chronicling my healthier habits, there is all the shame, and frustration, and anxiety, and depression. My life still revolves around food but it's in the most tedious and unpleasant fashion.
I've been using the myfitnesspal application on my phone to keep track of how much food I'm consuming, my nutrition, exercise, and water intake. For the most part, the app has been great except it it not as intuitive for daily life.
Like, for example, the app has "chewing" as an exercise. But there's no exercise for "Rampaging in DC traffic"
I've maybe been watching a lot of The Office... I'm sure nobody could tell.
I'm able to get over this issue because it exaggerates the number of calories I burned on the elliptical-- "Oh, training for 25 minutes equals 300 calories? The machine told me 230 but OK!"
It's mainly the food. I figured out months ago, when I downloaded the app, that I have ZERO judge on the size and serving of food. I've had a chai latte practically every morning for the last... yikes, 7 1/2 years... wow. I'm coming up on a chai-aversary in a few years... Anyway! I knew that the habit wasn't GREAT for me but, hey, it wasn't coffee and I had moved myself down from 2% milk down to skim milk (which is essentially white and water), so it couldn't be that bad. Right? Let's see, I'm supposed to have a 300-400 calorie breakfast and chai is 70 calories for every 1/2 cup. "That shouldn't be too bad!" I pour my typical amount of chai concentrate into my mug and then pour it into a measuring cup... there goes 1/2 a cup... and 3/4... and now I've run out of lines... "You know what, fuck this!" I turned off the app and glared at phone for the rest of day for what it did.
I wasn't ready to quit my chai. I wasn't ready to start chronicling my every calorie because I knew it would be fraught with disappointment and bitter surprise, sometimes horror. I wasn't even ready to say "Ok, let's start working our way down to 1/2 cup of chai with half cup of milk. That's totally doable."
I figured out I had to do the leg work first--guilt-tripping yourself out of eating a food is so much easier when you're not craving it. I created a list of snack foods and appropriate meals. While typing this sentence took 2 seconds, I promise you getting to where I was last week when I finally pulled the trigger on this plan took, arguably, 2 years.
Now, here's another moment where I'll admit that my obsessiveness did not help. I bought a ricemaker thinking "rice is healthy and I love it. I will forever eat rice". But, as karma demands it, no, white rice is just as terrible as white bread. Because it's not just about getting a food low in fat or calories, it's about the sodium and cholesterol content if your family has a history of heart disease (*swish* count it!) or sugar if your family has a history of diabetes (*swishswish* COUNT IT!).
You doubt everything you buy. Nothing is good for you. And after spending 5 minutes debating every purchase in the grocery store only to get to the bottom of the nutrition facts and find out the product is riddled with fake sugars and processed evil mystery preservative (anddd family history of cancer for the hat trick *swishswishswish*).
Here's the moment when I would reuse The Office Andy "I can too just sit here and cry" picture.
I will never be safe until I build a biodome.
In case this existential crisis wasn't clusterfucked enough, enter life, stage right. My grandmother recently broke her hip and due to what seems like some true-life-based Saw movie, I've been visiting her in the rehabilitation facility at least 3 times a week. Day 2 of my healthier venture, I agreed to go to a meeting to talk about her upcoming discharge (thank godbuddahallah).
9am: I had my healthy breakfast, I'm good to go!
11am (mid-meeting): CRAP! It's time to eat again? But I forgot to bring a pre-packaged 150 calorie snack. Oh well. I'm not hungry because I had an awesome healthy breakfast.
*somewhere in here my mom volunteers me to stay with Mimi for another 2 hours which then turned into me doing her laundry and returning it to rehab for another 4 hours*
2pm: OMG I DIDN'T BRING A 400-500 CALORIE LUNCH! I'M STARVED!!!
And what do you do when you're counting calories and need lunch? You sure as shit don't go to a restaurant because you won't be able to log it in! So I got a chicken salad sandwich from Harris Teeter. No nutrition facts. SHOULD HAVE SCANNED IT IN THE STORE. But I didn't. I went back to Mimi's to listen to the hum of the dryer and ate my sandwich containing 500+ mg of sodium.
And that all was just one day. Most of the days this week have included some panic to get "healthy" looking food only to eat it and then become pissed and/or disappointed. Today I was back at Mimi's and wanted a burger from this place down the road. It's a very hipster place that totes it's killing of happy cows who were frolicking locally before being lured into the barn with an axe. The dairy cows, if capable of frolicking, are also in said local fields produced cheese for the meat products of their angus brethren. Even the veggies placed on top of this local feast was grown on the same lands, just out of cow-reach. As a proud meat-eating redneck, this makes me very happy. But as an chicken-eating soulless creature trying to eat healthier, I dragged myself into a sandwich chain store and ordered what I thought was a lean turkey sandwich but turned out to be dehydrated, thinly-sliced, shredded lettuce-topped mess.
Side note-- why the hell is deli-thin slice a thing? You can barely taste anything that's thinly sliced. "Oh, you know what really brings out the flavor of that cake? Slicing it into slivers so you can eat 4 of them just to get the same amount you normally would."... said no one ever.
I'm now leaving my house wondering about when I'm going to eat next, what will I eat, what will I eat after that to compensate. Nothing about the unhealthy eating habits have seemed to change, but, arguably, have gotten worse. It's depressing.
I'll close with this: leaving a bag of grapes on the counter is dangerous.
July 30, 2014
Most of My Emotions are Pop Culture References
First blog post of the new year! In August! That's some horrible record, I'm sure.
Today's inspiration for a post has been brought to you by healthier eating.
That's right, healthier, not healthy. I could go on with a long speech how there's always room for improvement and in my efforts, I don't want to become some health snob but let's be real...
... food is fucking delicious.
And the healthier eating is coming with healthier habits. Yes, healthier, not healthy because working out is not fucking delicious.
I stand corrected...
Anyway, I finally woke up early enough to get started on a healthier regimen that I came up with *cough* several months ago. This morning we will be walking through how well that went.
Ideal: Wake up at 8am.
Reality: Woke up at 7:58 am. Thanks to a text from mom. The last thing I remember from my dream was yelling at Diane Sawyer to "Stop petting that dead beaver!" I have been having some seriously whack-a-doo dreams lately and while they could be their own blogpost, I remember how when I read about people's dreams on Facebook, I think, "Good god, no one cares."
Ideal: Get up, drink 8 oz. of lemon water and take a 20 minute walk.
Reality: This was delayed due to playing Simpson's Tapped Out on my phone. Shut up. It's important. BUT I did mosey upstairs, slice my lemon up for the week, and mosey back down to take my laps around the pool table. Online it says to go outside and enjoy the sunshine. No. There's no "enjoy" outside for an introvert or someone who plans to spend the day in their sleep clothes at 8:30am. I also thought that taking laps around my house meant I could check email safely without wandering into traffic.
Here's where the learning curve starts:
---Fact: lemon water makes me gag.
It's just lemon and water. It's supposed to jump-start your metabolism or some crap without all the calories and sugar and such of coffee or chai tea lattes. So, I didn't check my email. I instead asked the Internet why I was gulping down liquid death bile while doing the Indy 500 in my boxers. Luckily, I only had 2 emails, one from Barnes & Noble and one from Kim Kardashian trying to get me to buy her shoes (I did it once and they are hot as shit but she hasn't backed off since)--fast delete.
Ideal: At 8:30am, prepare and eat breakfast.
Reality: At 9am, I grabbed the materials I needed and thought, "Let me take a glance at my berries and make sure they're still ok... oh no! The blackberries are molded! At least the rasp- NOOOOOO!!!"
---Fact: I know my berries are local because it's humanly impossible to keep them from not turning into mold instantaneously.
But, hey, the blueberries were ok which is great news as they are my least favorite berry. Hooray. I can just throw them in with the one-person healthy oatmeal pancake I was making. I tried to soothe my berry anguish by thinking back on the scene from Prison Break when Dominic Purcell asks his son if he wants a little or a big handful of blueberries in his pancakes.
... could I have a big handful, Dominic Purcell? How about two big handfuls?
I miss the hell out of Prison Break. I still get incredibly upset at Fox when I think about how they killed off Wentworth Miller. Honestly, you were already killing the show, did you have to kill the hero too?! Butt weasels...
---Fact: Healthy eating and, thus, healthy cooking is only for morning people.
I ran into the pool table while walking around it 60 times. Ok, that was inevitable. But I got upstairs and dropped everything--blueberries,
---Fact: Blueberries are small and round so when you drop one, you actually drop 5 and they will all roll under the oven or into a lint/hair ball that collected in the corner 5 seconds before you dropped said berries like berry magnets.
bananas, cinnamon, a knife... I went to put away the cinnamon and somehow knocked over every spice in the spice rack. I always sniff-test milk before I pour it in food (even though I use it every morning for chai) and I ran the jug into my face. HOW DO YOU RUN A GALLON JUG INTO YOUR FACE?!... SOBER?!
So, I had made the recipe before and I maybe got too cocky and forgot to put water in the batter.
---Fact: If someone is cooking, don't bother to ask "What's burning?" We all know what's burning.
"Oh, you know, it's my clothes because I decided to go to burning man for a hot second while cooking pancakes." I don't even know if they burn things at burning man.
---Fact: Maybe it IS best to start healthier eating in the morning.
You'll be too asleep to gag on burned pancake. Or maybe your gag reflex will be minimal after gagging on lemon water. Either way, right before your last bite, you'll realize you are Homer Simpson's yearbook photo.
I can't believe I ate the whole thing. Every. burnt. bite.
Ideal: At 9am, start reading professional books in 25 minute increments followed by 5 minutes of stupid Pinterest workouts (like squats and wall sits) using the Pomodoro timer.
Reality: Fuck all of that. I'm writing a blogpost.
I wanted to write at the very least a blogpost every 5 days during the first month of my healthier eating campaign. I knew it would be filled with classic moments like this which would be riddled with "fuck this." The goal is to eat healthier but real pressure is currently for a Halloween costume idea I have for this year. I usually get lazy in the homestretch of Halloween and come up with something rather lackluster so I'm desperately trying to hold onto this grand idea I have. Maybe now it's time for gym? I can go fantasize about Joseph Gordon Levitt, Dominic Purcell, and Wentworth Miller.
... and my boyfriend... of course... mostly my boyfriend...
This August, everything's coming up Milhouse!
Today's inspiration for a post has been brought to you by healthier eating.
That's right, healthier, not healthy. I could go on with a long speech how there's always room for improvement and in my efforts, I don't want to become some health snob but let's be real...
... food is fucking delicious.
And the healthier eating is coming with healthier habits. Yes, healthier, not healthy because working out is not fucking delicious.
I stand corrected...
Anyway, I finally woke up early enough to get started on a healthier regimen that I came up with *cough* several months ago. This morning we will be walking through how well that went.
Ideal: Wake up at 8am.
Reality: Woke up at 7:58 am. Thanks to a text from mom. The last thing I remember from my dream was yelling at Diane Sawyer to "Stop petting that dead beaver!" I have been having some seriously whack-a-doo dreams lately and while they could be their own blogpost, I remember how when I read about people's dreams on Facebook, I think, "Good god, no one cares."
Ideal: Get up, drink 8 oz. of lemon water and take a 20 minute walk.
Reality: This was delayed due to playing Simpson's Tapped Out on my phone. Shut up. It's important. BUT I did mosey upstairs, slice my lemon up for the week, and mosey back down to take my laps around the pool table. Online it says to go outside and enjoy the sunshine. No. There's no "enjoy" outside for an introvert or someone who plans to spend the day in their sleep clothes at 8:30am. I also thought that taking laps around my house meant I could check email safely without wandering into traffic.
Here's where the learning curve starts:
---Fact: lemon water makes me gag.
It's just lemon and water. It's supposed to jump-start your metabolism or some crap without all the calories and sugar and such of coffee or chai tea lattes. So, I didn't check my email. I instead asked the Internet why I was gulping down liquid death bile while doing the Indy 500 in my boxers. Luckily, I only had 2 emails, one from Barnes & Noble and one from Kim Kardashian trying to get me to buy her shoes (I did it once and they are hot as shit but she hasn't backed off since)--fast delete.
Ideal: At 8:30am, prepare and eat breakfast.
Reality: At 9am, I grabbed the materials I needed and thought, "Let me take a glance at my berries and make sure they're still ok... oh no! The blackberries are molded! At least the rasp- NOOOOOO!!!"
---Fact: I know my berries are local because it's humanly impossible to keep them from not turning into mold instantaneously.
But, hey, the blueberries were ok which is great news as they are my least favorite berry. Hooray. I can just throw them in with the one-person healthy oatmeal pancake I was making. I tried to soothe my berry anguish by thinking back on the scene from Prison Break when Dominic Purcell asks his son if he wants a little or a big handful of blueberries in his pancakes.
... could I have a big handful, Dominic Purcell? How about two big handfuls?
I miss the hell out of Prison Break. I still get incredibly upset at Fox when I think about how they killed off Wentworth Miller. Honestly, you were already killing the show, did you have to kill the hero too?! Butt weasels...
---Fact: Healthy eating and, thus, healthy cooking is only for morning people.
I ran into the pool table while walking around it 60 times. Ok, that was inevitable. But I got upstairs and dropped everything--blueberries,
---Fact: Blueberries are small and round so when you drop one, you actually drop 5 and they will all roll under the oven or into a lint/hair ball that collected in the corner 5 seconds before you dropped said berries like berry magnets.
bananas, cinnamon, a knife... I went to put away the cinnamon and somehow knocked over every spice in the spice rack. I always sniff-test milk before I pour it in food (even though I use it every morning for chai) and I ran the jug into my face. HOW DO YOU RUN A GALLON JUG INTO YOUR FACE?!... SOBER?!
So, I had made the recipe before and I maybe got too cocky and forgot to put water in the batter.
---Fact: If someone is cooking, don't bother to ask "What's burning?" We all know what's burning.
"Oh, you know, it's my clothes because I decided to go to burning man for a hot second while cooking pancakes." I don't even know if they burn things at burning man.
---Fact: Maybe it IS best to start healthier eating in the morning.
You'll be too asleep to gag on burned pancake. Or maybe your gag reflex will be minimal after gagging on lemon water. Either way, right before your last bite, you'll realize you are Homer Simpson's yearbook photo.
I can't believe I ate the whole thing. Every. burnt. bite.
Ideal: At 9am, start reading professional books in 25 minute increments followed by 5 minutes of stupid Pinterest workouts (like squats and wall sits) using the Pomodoro timer.
Reality: Fuck all of that. I'm writing a blogpost.
I wanted to write at the very least a blogpost every 5 days during the first month of my healthier eating campaign. I knew it would be filled with classic moments like this which would be riddled with "fuck this." The goal is to eat healthier but real pressure is currently for a Halloween costume idea I have for this year. I usually get lazy in the homestretch of Halloween and come up with something rather lackluster so I'm desperately trying to hold onto this grand idea I have. Maybe now it's time for gym? I can go fantasize about Joseph Gordon Levitt, Dominic Purcell, and Wentworth Miller.
... and my boyfriend... of course... mostly my boyfriend...
November 18, 2013
What I Learned At School Today
This may be a recycled title but I don't know if you've noticed, I'm not creative. Sooo... yea... that's the title.
In the last couple years, I've become disappointed by my movie watching habits. I remember a plethora of days when I would come home and watch Rob Zombie's Halloween for the umpteenth time or even Ravenous-- RAVENOUS! The movie that ACTUALLY made me, ME, not eat meat for two days.
Totally random note: if anyone is looking for a movie with the most random soundtrack ever created and doesn't mind an intense amount of gore surrounding cannibalism and a bastardization of the Native American windigo story, check out Ravenous. You unfortunately see Robert Carlyle's butt and even more unfortunately, you don't see Guy Pearce's butt. However, there's a dramatic scene where the cannibal is chasing a bunch of soldiers in the woods which is... embellished?... by polka music. Folk polka. The director in the commentary said they wanted it to mimic a heart racing... um, ok, sure.
Anyway, in the last year or so, that hasn't been the case-- I come home and watch normal people TV and now that I have cable on my personal TV (biggest mistake ever), I've been watching things like "Bridesmaids" and "50/50". Ok, 50/50 is friggin' awesome; it's funny but makes you think about life. I already gave a play-by-play on Ravenous which is not that epic so I'll refrain from doing it again even though 50/50 is much more deserving. But Bridesmaids? That shit was ridiculous. And terrible. It made me want to Falcon Punch every woman I know and even slap the women I really like (like my best friends) just for good measure. And what happened to the main male role in chick flicks being hot? We used to have Cary freakin' Grant on the big screen and now it's that dude that I know I've seen in a couple films but he's not remotely interesting physically or personality-wise so I haven't really bothered to remember his name... you know, that dude.
Faith has been restored to my movie selection-- chick flicks are still terrible. And I should give myself even more credit because back in April, I had a friend tell me how the new "Evil Dead" movie was actually good. But everyone says that with horror films, I wasn't convinced... until she uttered the words, "The tree-rape scene was REALLY convincing." Tree rape?! Well that's different. Sold. So, go figure, when I got cable on my personal TV a month ago, the first thing I found was the Evil Dead and I started watching it.
This segues into the actual goal of my post: many people have asked me what type of stuff I learn in my human sexuality program. This semester I took a course on human reproductive biology and it is the icing on the "education will suck the fun out of activities you used to enjoy like horror movies" cake.
So, I missed the first few minutes of the movie (if someone could explain what the fuck the necklace in the end was about, that'd be great) but you come in on a mostly White bunch in the woods that have found some shit that is CLEARLY creepy and, obviously, start messing with it. This is where I start pondering how privilege allows White people from suburbia do the stupidest shit. Anybody that comes from a cultural place where you have to be concerned about your safety would never be messing with that shit.
But ok, one goob of the bunch finds a book with a bunch of Latin in it (which later in the movie has random phrases in English sprinkled throughout the pages, which makes ZERO sense) and he starts to read it... aloud. And on the first try, pronounces everything correctly enough to summon demons and shit. Now, in bio, I had to constantly refer to "y-aminobutyric acid", "17-hydroxypregnenolone," and, my favorite, "dehydroepiandrosterone sulphate". I still cannot pronounce these things unless I talk like I was kicked in the head by horse-- how the hell do people in horror movies magically pronounce this crap right to summon spirits. Oh and they just happen to know what the Latin means. Yes, because a) the American school system is that stellar everyone knows Latin b) kids always choose learning Latin over Spanish or French and c) Latin is spoken all the time, everywhere.
But ok, spirits are summoned and now they are going to enter this one chick in a very non-consensual manner, disappearing inside of the poor girl. Here's where my mind trails off to where does that part of the tree go? OMG, IT GOES WHERE THE SPERM GOES!!!
There's a story to this response-- when we were studying the female anatomy we reviewed how the Fallopian tubes/oviducts are not actually connected to the ovary, the edges just sort of open to the ovary, waiting to receive ovum. We continued on to sexual response and such where we talked about how the normal fertile range of ejaculate contains millions of sperm. It swims up the vagina, through the cervix, across the uterus, down the Fallopian tubes in a very survivor fashion. And since sperm is from dudes where they don't ask for directions to the egg, they just keep swimming straight... One of my classmates started putting this together and asked, "Where does the sperm go?!" and, naturally, I yelled across the room, "I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!?!" This shit is like the White House tour, we will show you a couple rooms like the vagina and the uterus, but you do not have permission to just go where ever the hell you want in my body now. No. Tour is over. Leave."
So I'm pretty sure that's where the tree went. And then I'm wondering, rape is about power, not sex, so if you're a demon, why bother? You're a demon. Do you need that extra power trip into the body? Is that necessary? You're just going to jack with the girl's mind for the rest of the movie, she won't have time to be psychologically scarred and vulnerable.
The girl starts acting a little devilish (get it?) and you get the stereotypical scene where it's very clear that she's off her nut and very dangerous but her oblivious friends are asking, "Are you ok? Why are you carrying a shotgun? I don't think you should do that." and she attacks her friend, vomiting blood all over her. This is when I realize, possession is like AIDS. You get it through the transmission of bodily fluids and it's not actually the AIDS that kills you-- what kills you is an infection that takes advantage of your weak immune system, making you cut off your own face.
The movie continues on predictably-- the possessed girl tortures and kills her friends with a couple of them having moments of clarity that save her ass in the end. All sprinkled with lapses of good judgment and poor nonverbal communication reading. Note: if someone is twitching uncontrollably and randomly while holding a shotgun, possessed or not, you probably shouldn't approach them.
And I sit there wondering what a possession movie would look like with all the characters being Atheist or Buddhist. Just something that isn't Catholic.
But that's what school has taught me. Possession is AIDS and you should wrap it before you go reading nonsense out in the woods. You are also probably screwed if you hear polka music.
In the last couple years, I've become disappointed by my movie watching habits. I remember a plethora of days when I would come home and watch Rob Zombie's Halloween for the umpteenth time or even Ravenous-- RAVENOUS! The movie that ACTUALLY made me, ME, not eat meat for two days.
Totally random note: if anyone is looking for a movie with the most random soundtrack ever created and doesn't mind an intense amount of gore surrounding cannibalism and a bastardization of the Native American windigo story, check out Ravenous. You unfortunately see Robert Carlyle's butt and even more unfortunately, you don't see Guy Pearce's butt. However, there's a dramatic scene where the cannibal is chasing a bunch of soldiers in the woods which is... embellished?... by polka music. Folk polka. The director in the commentary said they wanted it to mimic a heart racing... um, ok, sure.
Anyway, in the last year or so, that hasn't been the case-- I come home and watch normal people TV and now that I have cable on my personal TV (biggest mistake ever), I've been watching things like "Bridesmaids" and "50/50". Ok, 50/50 is friggin' awesome; it's funny but makes you think about life. I already gave a play-by-play on Ravenous which is not that epic so I'll refrain from doing it again even though 50/50 is much more deserving. But Bridesmaids? That shit was ridiculous. And terrible. It made me want to Falcon Punch every woman I know and even slap the women I really like (like my best friends) just for good measure. And what happened to the main male role in chick flicks being hot? We used to have Cary freakin' Grant on the big screen and now it's that dude that I know I've seen in a couple films but he's not remotely interesting physically or personality-wise so I haven't really bothered to remember his name... you know, that dude.
Faith has been restored to my movie selection-- chick flicks are still terrible. And I should give myself even more credit because back in April, I had a friend tell me how the new "Evil Dead" movie was actually good. But everyone says that with horror films, I wasn't convinced... until she uttered the words, "The tree-rape scene was REALLY convincing." Tree rape?! Well that's different. Sold. So, go figure, when I got cable on my personal TV a month ago, the first thing I found was the Evil Dead and I started watching it.
This segues into the actual goal of my post: many people have asked me what type of stuff I learn in my human sexuality program. This semester I took a course on human reproductive biology and it is the icing on the "education will suck the fun out of activities you used to enjoy like horror movies" cake.
So, I missed the first few minutes of the movie (if someone could explain what the fuck the necklace in the end was about, that'd be great) but you come in on a mostly White bunch in the woods that have found some shit that is CLEARLY creepy and, obviously, start messing with it. This is where I start pondering how privilege allows White people from suburbia do the stupidest shit. Anybody that comes from a cultural place where you have to be concerned about your safety would never be messing with that shit.
But ok, one goob of the bunch finds a book with a bunch of Latin in it (which later in the movie has random phrases in English sprinkled throughout the pages, which makes ZERO sense) and he starts to read it... aloud. And on the first try, pronounces everything correctly enough to summon demons and shit. Now, in bio, I had to constantly refer to "y-aminobutyric acid", "17-hydroxypregnenolone," and, my favorite, "dehydroepiandrosterone sulphate". I still cannot pronounce these things unless I talk like I was kicked in the head by horse-- how the hell do people in horror movies magically pronounce this crap right to summon spirits. Oh and they just happen to know what the Latin means. Yes, because a) the American school system is that stellar everyone knows Latin b) kids always choose learning Latin over Spanish or French and c) Latin is spoken all the time, everywhere.
But ok, spirits are summoned and now they are going to enter this one chick in a very non-consensual manner, disappearing inside of the poor girl. Here's where my mind trails off to where does that part of the tree go? OMG, IT GOES WHERE THE SPERM GOES!!!
There's a story to this response-- when we were studying the female anatomy we reviewed how the Fallopian tubes/oviducts are not actually connected to the ovary, the edges just sort of open to the ovary, waiting to receive ovum. We continued on to sexual response and such where we talked about how the normal fertile range of ejaculate contains millions of sperm. It swims up the vagina, through the cervix, across the uterus, down the Fallopian tubes in a very survivor fashion. And since sperm is from dudes where they don't ask for directions to the egg, they just keep swimming straight... One of my classmates started putting this together and asked, "Where does the sperm go?!" and, naturally, I yelled across the room, "I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!?!" This shit is like the White House tour, we will show you a couple rooms like the vagina and the uterus, but you do not have permission to just go where ever the hell you want in my body now. No. Tour is over. Leave."
So I'm pretty sure that's where the tree went. And then I'm wondering, rape is about power, not sex, so if you're a demon, why bother? You're a demon. Do you need that extra power trip into the body? Is that necessary? You're just going to jack with the girl's mind for the rest of the movie, she won't have time to be psychologically scarred and vulnerable.
The girl starts acting a little devilish (get it?) and you get the stereotypical scene where it's very clear that she's off her nut and very dangerous but her oblivious friends are asking, "Are you ok? Why are you carrying a shotgun? I don't think you should do that." and she attacks her friend, vomiting blood all over her. This is when I realize, possession is like AIDS. You get it through the transmission of bodily fluids and it's not actually the AIDS that kills you-- what kills you is an infection that takes advantage of your weak immune system, making you cut off your own face.
The movie continues on predictably-- the possessed girl tortures and kills her friends with a couple of them having moments of clarity that save her ass in the end. All sprinkled with lapses of good judgment and poor nonverbal communication reading. Note: if someone is twitching uncontrollably and randomly while holding a shotgun, possessed or not, you probably shouldn't approach them.
And I sit there wondering what a possession movie would look like with all the characters being Atheist or Buddhist. Just something that isn't Catholic.
But that's what school has taught me. Possession is AIDS and you should wrap it before you go reading nonsense out in the woods. You are also probably screwed if you hear polka music.
October 10, 2013
Keeping the King of England Out of Your Face
Over a year ago, I wrote how health is the new religion-- people are super serious about it and will go out of their way to impose their viewpoints on you whether you asked for their input or not. It's hard to imagine that I wrote my post before Crossfit was a big thing because that shit has seriously kicked health up into a whole new level of my-God-shut-up.
But I'm not rewriting that post. I'm writing about how guns are the new religion and their devout followers are more antagonizing than Crossfitters-- which IS a fucking statement.
The title of this post comes from The Simpsons. In one episode, Homer purchases a gun and as he normally does, he becomes overcome with zeal and joins the NRA. After Marge has left for the SLEep-eAZY MOTEL with the kids, Homer has a NRA meeting at his house where he shows off using his gun to turn off the TV, open cans of beer, etc. Krusty stops him screaming, "Guns aren't toys! They're for family protection, hunting dangerous and delicious animals, and keeping the King of England out of your face!"
... Ok, obviously it's better to watch the episode. But the line is funny. I promise.
This post has been a long-time brewing as I have some Facebook friends fighting the man by fueling their one-man minute man militia with tons of guns (as many of them assault as legally possible) and gaining support against the gov'ment by posting copious references to pro-gun, anti-media, anti-government, anti-Obama, anti-liberal, pro-assault weapons, pro-government being run by the people,... pro-leprechauns, and anti-unicorns agendas.
I'll be honest, the messages are all extreme and excessive so I really have lost what their exact point is. I just roll my eyes, block from my newsfeed and move on with my life. And I also want to add, this is not EVERYONE who is pro-guns, anti-central government-- it's the asshats who go out of their way to force these viewpoints when I have made myself perfectly clear that I. am. not. interested.
In the last few weeks, I've also joined an online dating site. They ask a bunch of ridiculously random questions, provide answers, you select your answer and "your ideal match's answer(s)" then how important the question is to you. The website then gives you a percentage on how you and another person agreed on questions. Which makes no sense to me because with some of the questions, I want someone to answer directly opposite of me so that we complement each other but I digress...
One question asked "Which freedom is more valuable: the right to vote or the the right to own guns?" I selected the right to vote, clicked that my match should give the same answer, which is very important and commented, "If anyone selects 'the right to own guns', don't contact me whatsoever." Within FIVE minutes, shit you not, there was a message in my inbox of a guy arguing how we needed guns for when the government robs of us our rights, including to vote and yaddayaddayadda, something dictator-y.
Really? I could not have been more clear. REALLY?! I said DO. NOT. CONTACT. ME... REALLY?!
As you can see, I still cannot wrap my mind around this. You honestly cannot follow through with the simplest instructions? And because you went out of your way to not listen to me, I'm totally going to listen to you... *hinthint to anyone this fucking dense* NO. I AM NOT GOING TO LISTEN TO YOU.
Amidst my frustrated confusion, I cannot help but wonder if that is what is, well, wrong with these gun-toting, government conspirators-- it's humanly impossible for them to not follow directions so the one way to supersede the laws of our society is to label the government corrupt.
Now, I acknowledge I'm very biased by a privilege-- I grew up in Northern Virginia where a lot of the people I know work for the government in some way, shape, or form so I know that the government is made up of mostly good people and not blood-sucking Nazis. I also grew up with the knowledge that if a bomb was dropped on DC, I'm close enough to be in the blast-zone where my life could cease to exist at any moment. That's my reality, my friends; so any terrorizing threats here and abroad towards or from our government are really... not... terrorizing. I continue on with my life, hoping and believing in good in the world and in people and if I end up being wrong, I will no longer be here to be upset by it. So why waste my existence by worrying?
I'm not trying to be political in this post. I'm just saying that not always do you need to share your opinions, particularly when someone has deliberately told you not to. Yes, you have freedom of speech but you also have the right to not speak. Have a fucking enlightened moment where you sit there and think how I'm naive and ridiculous or whatever the fuck you think. Just because I'm not as assaulting about my viewpoint as you, doesn't mean it doesn't exist or doesn't have validity or needs your opinion to be forced upon it. In fact, forcing your viewpoints when I have asked that you not kind of sounds like what you accuse the government or the liberal media of doing... huh.
Finally, who the fuck uses social media to make widespread change at the individual level? Hasn't it been well established since the beginning of the Internet that any boob can post something online and that you should be wary of the information you receive on there? WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ANY DIFFERENT? This is a blog for my smartass rants. It will probably yield some more fucking messages about the gov'ment trying to take mah freedums and gun R the anzer but really nothing will change. I acknowledge that... and actually quite glad that people don't take more stock in my nonsensical ravings.
And even though someone, I just know, SOMEONE will completely and totally miss my entire point of this post will try this again-- IF YOU DISAGREE WITH ME BECAUSE YOU LOVE GUNS AND FEEL THEY WILL STOP THE GOVERNMENT FROM ENDING OUR LIVES AS WE KNOW IT, DO. NOT. CONTACT. ME. AT. ALL. To clarify-- I. don't. care. about. your. opinion. I will not listen and it will just piss me off and counter any point you are trying to make.
... keep the King of England and yourself out of my face.
But I'm not rewriting that post. I'm writing about how guns are the new religion and their devout followers are more antagonizing than Crossfitters-- which IS a fucking statement.
The title of this post comes from The Simpsons. In one episode, Homer purchases a gun and as he normally does, he becomes overcome with zeal and joins the NRA. After Marge has left for the SLEep-eAZY MOTEL with the kids, Homer has a NRA meeting at his house where he shows off using his gun to turn off the TV, open cans of beer, etc. Krusty stops him screaming, "Guns aren't toys! They're for family protection, hunting dangerous and delicious animals, and keeping the King of England out of your face!"
... Ok, obviously it's better to watch the episode. But the line is funny. I promise.
This post has been a long-time brewing as I have some Facebook friends fighting the man by fueling their one-man minute man militia with tons of guns (as many of them assault as legally possible) and gaining support against the gov'ment by posting copious references to pro-gun, anti-media, anti-government, anti-Obama, anti-liberal, pro-assault weapons, pro-government being run by the people,... pro-leprechauns, and anti-unicorns agendas.
I'll be honest, the messages are all extreme and excessive so I really have lost what their exact point is. I just roll my eyes, block from my newsfeed and move on with my life. And I also want to add, this is not EVERYONE who is pro-guns, anti-central government-- it's the asshats who go out of their way to force these viewpoints when I have made myself perfectly clear that I. am. not. interested.
In the last few weeks, I've also joined an online dating site. They ask a bunch of ridiculously random questions, provide answers, you select your answer and "your ideal match's answer(s)" then how important the question is to you. The website then gives you a percentage on how you and another person agreed on questions. Which makes no sense to me because with some of the questions, I want someone to answer directly opposite of me so that we complement each other but I digress...
One question asked "Which freedom is more valuable: the right to vote or the the right to own guns?" I selected the right to vote, clicked that my match should give the same answer, which is very important and commented, "If anyone selects 'the right to own guns', don't contact me whatsoever." Within FIVE minutes, shit you not, there was a message in my inbox of a guy arguing how we needed guns for when the government robs of us our rights, including to vote and yaddayaddayadda, something dictator-y.
Really? I could not have been more clear. REALLY?! I said DO. NOT. CONTACT. ME... REALLY?!
As you can see, I still cannot wrap my mind around this. You honestly cannot follow through with the simplest instructions? And because you went out of your way to not listen to me, I'm totally going to listen to you... *hinthint to anyone this fucking dense* NO. I AM NOT GOING TO LISTEN TO YOU.
Amidst my frustrated confusion, I cannot help but wonder if that is what is, well, wrong with these gun-toting, government conspirators-- it's humanly impossible for them to not follow directions so the one way to supersede the laws of our society is to label the government corrupt.
Now, I acknowledge I'm very biased by a privilege-- I grew up in Northern Virginia where a lot of the people I know work for the government in some way, shape, or form so I know that the government is made up of mostly good people and not blood-sucking Nazis. I also grew up with the knowledge that if a bomb was dropped on DC, I'm close enough to be in the blast-zone where my life could cease to exist at any moment. That's my reality, my friends; so any terrorizing threats here and abroad towards or from our government are really... not... terrorizing. I continue on with my life, hoping and believing in good in the world and in people and if I end up being wrong, I will no longer be here to be upset by it. So why waste my existence by worrying?
I'm not trying to be political in this post. I'm just saying that not always do you need to share your opinions, particularly when someone has deliberately told you not to. Yes, you have freedom of speech but you also have the right to not speak. Have a fucking enlightened moment where you sit there and think how I'm naive and ridiculous or whatever the fuck you think. Just because I'm not as assaulting about my viewpoint as you, doesn't mean it doesn't exist or doesn't have validity or needs your opinion to be forced upon it. In fact, forcing your viewpoints when I have asked that you not kind of sounds like what you accuse the government or the liberal media of doing... huh.
Finally, who the fuck uses social media to make widespread change at the individual level? Hasn't it been well established since the beginning of the Internet that any boob can post something online and that you should be wary of the information you receive on there? WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ANY DIFFERENT? This is a blog for my smartass rants. It will probably yield some more fucking messages about the gov'ment trying to take mah freedums and gun R the anzer but really nothing will change. I acknowledge that... and actually quite glad that people don't take more stock in my nonsensical ravings.
And even though someone, I just know, SOMEONE will completely and totally miss my entire point of this post will try this again-- IF YOU DISAGREE WITH ME BECAUSE YOU LOVE GUNS AND FEEL THEY WILL STOP THE GOVERNMENT FROM ENDING OUR LIVES AS WE KNOW IT, DO. NOT. CONTACT. ME. AT. ALL. To clarify-- I. don't. care. about. your. opinion. I will not listen and it will just piss me off and counter any point you are trying to make.
... keep the King of England and yourself out of my face.
September 19, 2013
Wait, Was That Supposed to be a Turn-On? Yea, It Wasn't.
Soooooo, I didn't think I had been gone for almost 4 MONTHS!!! My bad. I thought it was like, 2, MAYBE 3. But life's been annoying and my computer's been annoying and I'm sure I've been annoying by dealing with annoying things so you should be thanking me that I didn't come on here and write a whiny post........ you're welcome.
ANYWAY! Today I visited my grandmother and I made the God-awful mistake of telling her I had joined an online dating site. She was a little scattered today so that quickly diverted to telling me everything about her neighbor's personal life and then I fumbled to get away from the awkwardness of hearing EVERYTHING about this woman I don't know well and somehow blurted out that I hate dating.
What's with old ladies that we just word vomit to them? OH GOD NOW THE NEIGHBOR WILL LEARN ALL ABOUT MY PERSONAL LIFE.
Delightful.
But I do hate dating. I really do. It's this awkward struggle where you're like, "Do I share EVERYTHING with this person or do I just share *air quotes* everything with this person?" Because there's a part of you that wants to be honest and authentic and be genuine with this person who may be THE person. You don't know. And then when you hold back, when do you start to open the closet of "So heyyyy, I may have some super special qualities. Don't run. Hey! WAIT! I promise I'm not that weird! No! These were here all along and it was ok! No! I can be normal! Andddd you're gone... damn." Then the next time, you're like "Fuck this! I'm emptying alllllllll of my shit onto the table of the first place we meet up and you can just DEAL. OR NOT. Whatever. Fuck you."
And because honesty is always the best policy and you keep telling yourself that you have plenty of friends who stand by your side with all of your personal shit, you go with the second choice-- you lay it allllll out.
At this moment, I'd like to take a moment to say God, Buddah, and Allah (and all the Hindu gods and goddesses I cannot spell) bless the Internet. Because any time that you feel that you have some negative quality, some flaw, there's always, ALWAYS someone out there, on the Internet, who will one up you.
Like seriously, I think I'm socially awkward and these people just put me to shame. I look completely sane. And that's weird.
Some examples from my worldly online adventures. Keep in mind that this is the stuff BEFORE my online dating profile... before. Wrap your mind around this.
"You're a psyc major, THAT'S SO FUNNY! I'm on antipsychotics! I mean, I'm SUPPOSED to be on antipsychotics. Lol!"
"I think you should cut your hair short. My mom and my ex cut their hair short and it looked hot."
"Yea, I don't like meeting people online either. I keep getting conned into relationships by other dudes even though I'm straight. I just feel bad for them."
"You're a therapist? Hey, you could study me! I hate my current relationship and I'm wondering if I should leave it or not. Before you give me the obvious answer that everyone I've talked to has already given me, let me, please, give you the whole long, drawn-out background on why my partner's an ass but I'm clearly a wonderful person still in this relationship calling this person an ass to everyone I talk to including complete strangers such as yourself."
Then there's the classics I receive when I tell people I study human sexuality in order to become a sex therapist:
"Human sexuality, eh? Want to have sex with me?"
"So what is sex therapy? Can you, like, help me with my dick? How about my porn addiction? How about how my dick doesn't work after I've watched a lot of porn and I want to watch more porn?"
"My husband farts. That's not sexy. You're a therapist. Tell him it's not sexy."
"This one person doesn't have sex. You should tell them to have sex."
*From a coworker/superior*-- "Hey, you should host some talks about sex and orgasm right in the middle of it... why are you blushing? You shouldn't blush if you want to talk about sex with people."
Ok, clearly the people don't always says these things this directly (note how I said "not always"-- it totally fucking happens half the time) but, you know, maybe honesty = not so much the best policy. Some thoughts are ok to keep to yourself-- promise. Please check your over-sized baggage that will not fit nicely in the overhead compartment of this conversation.
And it's these moments I think about when I debate on whether I should whip out my personal "stuff" like it's my dick and this is the Internet. I would also like to bless all my non-single family and friends who tell me how I should TOTALLY be myself! Always! Find a man who loves you for who you are! To those people, I love you and your point is valid... but I don't think you understand... I have some serious "stuff". Why the fuck do you think I'm single?
My grandmother is one of those people. After trying to explain the incredible uncomfortableness of being on the receiving end of someone's brutally honest reveal of their personal problems, I switched gears to say, "It's hard to determine what you compromise and stick out for and what you cut your losses and write-off as a mismatch in personalities."
This then diverted down the dark path of why I don't want kids and a hideous behind-the-curtain look at my family of origin which, honestly, just validated my beliefs that children are a VERY bad choice for me. But the point is, dating blows. It blows chunks. Can I magically be in a relationship without jumping through the hoops of dating? Disney did not prepare me for this. Sleeping Beauty and Snow White's ass were sleeping half the movie and here comes this hot man who makes out with their unconscious bodies and they live happily ever after.
At this point, I would like to clarify that I do NOT want men to make out or do anything to my unconscious body. I'm just saying, why do these bitches do nothing and end up happy forever? That's some communist shit.
ANYWAY! Today I visited my grandmother and I made the God-awful mistake of telling her I had joined an online dating site. She was a little scattered today so that quickly diverted to telling me everything about her neighbor's personal life and then I fumbled to get away from the awkwardness of hearing EVERYTHING about this woman I don't know well and somehow blurted out that I hate dating.
What's with old ladies that we just word vomit to them? OH GOD NOW THE NEIGHBOR WILL LEARN ALL ABOUT MY PERSONAL LIFE.
Delightful.
But I do hate dating. I really do. It's this awkward struggle where you're like, "Do I share EVERYTHING with this person or do I just share *air quotes* everything with this person?" Because there's a part of you that wants to be honest and authentic and be genuine with this person who may be THE person. You don't know. And then when you hold back, when do you start to open the closet of "So heyyyy, I may have some super special qualities. Don't run. Hey! WAIT! I promise I'm not that weird! No! These were here all along and it was ok! No! I can be normal! Andddd you're gone... damn." Then the next time, you're like "Fuck this! I'm emptying alllllllll of my shit onto the table of the first place we meet up and you can just DEAL. OR NOT. Whatever. Fuck you."
And because honesty is always the best policy and you keep telling yourself that you have plenty of friends who stand by your side with all of your personal shit, you go with the second choice-- you lay it allllll out.
At this moment, I'd like to take a moment to say God, Buddah, and Allah (and all the Hindu gods and goddesses I cannot spell) bless the Internet. Because any time that you feel that you have some negative quality, some flaw, there's always, ALWAYS someone out there, on the Internet, who will one up you.
Like seriously, I think I'm socially awkward and these people just put me to shame. I look completely sane. And that's weird.
Some examples from my worldly online adventures. Keep in mind that this is the stuff BEFORE my online dating profile... before. Wrap your mind around this.
"You're a psyc major, THAT'S SO FUNNY! I'm on antipsychotics! I mean, I'm SUPPOSED to be on antipsychotics. Lol!"
"I think you should cut your hair short. My mom and my ex cut their hair short and it looked hot."
"Yea, I don't like meeting people online either. I keep getting conned into relationships by other dudes even though I'm straight. I just feel bad for them."
"You're a therapist? Hey, you could study me! I hate my current relationship and I'm wondering if I should leave it or not. Before you give me the obvious answer that everyone I've talked to has already given me, let me, please, give you the whole long, drawn-out background on why my partner's an ass but I'm clearly a wonderful person still in this relationship calling this person an ass to everyone I talk to including complete strangers such as yourself."
Then there's the classics I receive when I tell people I study human sexuality in order to become a sex therapist:
"Human sexuality, eh? Want to have sex with me?"
"So what is sex therapy? Can you, like, help me with my dick? How about my porn addiction? How about how my dick doesn't work after I've watched a lot of porn and I want to watch more porn?"
"My husband farts. That's not sexy. You're a therapist. Tell him it's not sexy."
"This one person doesn't have sex. You should tell them to have sex."
*From a coworker/superior*-- "Hey, you should host some talks about sex and orgasm right in the middle of it... why are you blushing? You shouldn't blush if you want to talk about sex with people."
Ok, clearly the people don't always says these things this directly (note how I said "not always"-- it totally fucking happens half the time) but, you know, maybe honesty = not so much the best policy. Some thoughts are ok to keep to yourself-- promise. Please check your over-sized baggage that will not fit nicely in the overhead compartment of this conversation.
And it's these moments I think about when I debate on whether I should whip out my personal "stuff" like it's my dick and this is the Internet. I would also like to bless all my non-single family and friends who tell me how I should TOTALLY be myself! Always! Find a man who loves you for who you are! To those people, I love you and your point is valid... but I don't think you understand... I have some serious "stuff". Why the fuck do you think I'm single?
My grandmother is one of those people. After trying to explain the incredible uncomfortableness of being on the receiving end of someone's brutally honest reveal of their personal problems, I switched gears to say, "It's hard to determine what you compromise and stick out for and what you cut your losses and write-off as a mismatch in personalities."
This then diverted down the dark path of why I don't want kids and a hideous behind-the-curtain look at my family of origin which, honestly, just validated my beliefs that children are a VERY bad choice for me. But the point is, dating blows. It blows chunks. Can I magically be in a relationship without jumping through the hoops of dating? Disney did not prepare me for this. Sleeping Beauty and Snow White's ass were sleeping half the movie and here comes this hot man who makes out with their unconscious bodies and they live happily ever after.
At this point, I would like to clarify that I do NOT want men to make out or do anything to my unconscious body. I'm just saying, why do these bitches do nothing and end up happy forever? That's some communist shit.
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