A Word about STFU Parents

In the past few weeks the author of STFU Parents outed herself on the Rickie Lake show. She's written about the responses she's been getting, and it's overwhelming how much fire she's come under because of this.

She's being very diplomatic about this whole thing, because if I were her I'd bring up the fact that she doesn't make this shit up.  Parents; you are driving people crazy, and you refuse to take responsibility for the fact that you honest think we care what your kid's poop looks like!

Are you even thinking about that kid's future?  All this stuff is online forever, so your kid's bathtime photo is now available to every potential employer and spouse.  Nothing is sacred anymore, and you are taking away your child's right to privacy on the most basic level.  You are also teaching them that nothing is sacred and grooming them to be fodder on the playground as well as giving their full name out to those creeps that shouldn't be on the playground.

An occasional picture of them fully clothed and poop free is just fine, but know that every time someone Googles your child's name that picture is shown.

And don't blame STFU Parents for having this blog because she doesn't have a child.  That is the weakest excuse I've ever heard.  Someone told her she'll really appreciate the online community she'll have when she has kids.  THAT IS SO NOT EVEN THE POINT.  She gets submissions (she doesn't troll for them at all) from Social Media, not websites solely dedicated to babies and all their poopy goodness.  She's never stated she was against social forums for that kind of thing.  In fact, this week no one has allowed her to say much at all.  She's just being yelled at that she's jealous because she is "childless."

On a personal note, I enjoy the crap (literally) out of her site.  And it's possible that I am not physically able  to have children.  So everyone telling her that she'll change when she has kids...makes me think how hurtful everyone is being if she is in the same boat.  Everything they are saying about being a great mom community is shot to hell with the statements they've been making.

Everything you do has consequences, as I'm sure this post will for me.  But I accept that.

'Cause When the Heart Breaks it Don't Break Even

I care too much. It's one of the worst faults I have. If someone says to me, "Yeah, but who cares?" There is rarely a time when my head doesn't scream to them "I DO! I CARE!"

It's become a detriment. A weight. And I've learned to not care about certain things. Well, not NOT care as much as realize that there are some things that aren't worth worrying about that much. If dishes sit around for a couple of days, the earth isn't going to rotate right off it's axis. Everything will be fine.

I do this with my friends too. I'm an extremist friend. If you are my friend, and you need help, I'm right there. I'm doing the right thing for you, whether it's tell you that the boy who doesn't like you is an idiot, or trying to win that idiot back. But if one of my friends is doing something really stupid, I'm not keeping my mouth shut. I'm telling them exactly what they need to do to remedy a situation. I'm a great friend.

Never in my life has anyone abused this like a recent friend. I found this site on the internet and the line;

No matter how many friends you have, if you are their pillar, you will feel lonely and lost at the times you need them most.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. That is exactly what has been happening to me. This whole friendship I've been giving and giving and getting nothing back. Not because she was a bad person, but because she just wasn't capable of giving anything back. And even though I do love to help, it's like my advice wasn't being listened to. She wasn't learning anything from my sound advice. And I wasn't getting a friend in return.

It weighed on me. With what I've gone through, what I'm still going through...I don't have the emotional capacity to be anyone's pillar anymore. I've gotta get out.

Sky High Expectations

Along the lines of the last post, Lover Boy and I had a disagreement last night. Every once in awhile I begin to feel like a self-imposed martyr.

I feel as if you get up in the morning, and go to work. It doesn't matter if you are sick (to a point), or you didn't get enough sleep the night before, or if you slept wrong and your arm hurts. You go to work, baring not being able to stop throwing up long enough to get to work.

Even throwing up sometimes means you still go into work. I had a job where I was the only one on shift, the store needed to be opened, and the manager refused to answer his phone. So, I left the bathroom opened, and helped customers in between running to the bathroom and throwing up.

You get home, and you start cleaning up after yourself/others. You make dinner, you eat it, you wash the dishes. You go through the mail and pay the bills and clean the bathroom and take out the garbage and do all those little things you put off.

I usually try to get things done before I do something fun like clear out the DVR. I'm not saying that always happens. I have days when I literally can't do it, and I eat a spoonful of peanut butter while watching "The Real World: DC." until about 8pm, when I climb into bed and read until 10 and then go to sleep.

This would be the perfect way to live, if I was living alone. Maybe, if I was living alone, I would actually slack off more. But, I feel I owe it to Lover Boy to keep the place relatively clean. After all, he works 12 hours a day to my 8 1/2, and I have the afternoon to do my things as apposed to his mornings before he has to go to work.

It's still a new house, though. We've lived there since late December, and we still have boxes. We still have things to hang up. Chandeliers that need to be re-placed, and light bulbs.

I guess these are things that I could do on my own, but the 50's housewife in me thinks the "man of the house" should do these things. He SAYS he'll do these things. Then, they don't get done. It was a joke about one of these things that lead to our fight last night.

I harbor all these emotions about how I have to do everything, and how it's SOOOO unfair. But, the truth is, I built these expectations. Just because I can go home and be a powerhouse about my stuff doesn't mean that he will be about his. It doesn't help that I ask him to do something, and then don't see him. We work opposite shifts, and our only day off together is Sunday.

He will do things in his own time, but I don't want to be a fishwife in the meantime. I don't want to have to nag for things to get done within the week. I'm tired of working so hard.

But I'm the only one pushing me.

Depression is NO excuse

I read this blog post this morning and it made me so mad. Mad about people with depression.

From a young age until I was a legal adult, I was depressed. I never sought help, so I don't know if it was clinical, or what. But I thought about suicide all the time, and I tried it without success once. But I was one locked door away from a roof and a jump, and I would've done it.

However, even in my depression haze, I knew I had responsibilities. If someone needed my help, I would be there. If I made a date to meet someone, I would show up and being as happy as I could be. I know I failed on that front. I know I was a horrible person to be around, but it was something that I couldn't see until I had lost all my friends.

It was when I was truly all alone that I could look at why I was depressed, and either shit or get off the pot. It was my way, and even though I'm not every going to be the happy-go-lucky type, I'm not the drag I was.

But when I read Sarah's post, it was the constant irresponsibility that infuriated me. It has always infuriated me that even in my deepest depression, I could never fully let go. I couldn't stop myself from not caring about other people. I couldn't not answer their phone calls or keep them hanging on an evening we were supposed to go out. Call that "not depression" if you will, but I don't think that being an asshole and being depressed are mutually exclusive.

Even if I'm in a bad mood and go to work, I still greet security with a "good morning" and a smile, because it's ME that's having a bad day, not them. If I walk past them without a greeting, then I've just ruined a part of their day. I refuse to drag anyone else down with me, if I can help it.

It seems that some people that are depressed (and some that aren't) think nothing of bringing other people down with them. They cancel plans and sleep in, and don't think about anyone but themselves. I say, if you want to detach from the world, do so. But don't let people down in the process. If someone wants to spend time with you, give a yes or no answer. Don't bring them down with you. Give them a chance to be happy, even if you don't want to be.

*EDIT* Before you comment on this post, which is my most popular post, please read it all.  Then read the comments.  Then think about why you put "depression excuses" into Google that lead you here.  In the end, I'm saying that you can't be a flake and blame it on your depression.  It turns out I do have depression caused by hypothyroidism, so I do know depression.

Gee, do you think they'll get it?

When are people going to learn that the direct approach is the best approach?

Yes, I'm bitching about Facebook again.

Now this stupid junior-high style bullshit is going around where females are posting the color of their bra as their facebook status, with no explanation. They are supposedly doing this to race breast cancer awareness, and to eff with the males because they won't know what's going on.

Yeah, the best way to raise awareness about something is to NOT MENTION IT AT ALL!!!!!!!

And what is it even doing? If you get everyone to do it, then what? So they know about breast cancer. Did you think they didn't know about it before? Do you think posting my bra color is going to suddenly made me find a cure, or get involved anymore than I already am? Nope. It's not doing a damn thing.

So knock it off.

Experiencing Life...Live.

I have to vent: I hate social networking so fucking much. I am SO sick of passive aggressive, plain aggressive, and deliberately vague status updates.

There is nowhere else on earth to be direct and to the point, so stop being vague. Don't say "Is thinking of someone special..." Get up off your ass and find that person, and tell them. The rest of us don't give a shit.

"Please pray for Joe in his time of need." Who is Joe, and why do I need to pray for him? Does God really listen to vague-ass prayers like that? I don't think so.

" :-) " That's not a status update. That doesn't tell me what is going on in your life, or what you are up to.

All I'm asking is just to use status updates for actual status updates, not some bullshit thing that you claim you don't even want to talk about. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT, STOP POSTING IT ON THE FUCKING INTERNET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

/end rant.

Is it too late to take it back?

I was watching Australia with a friend the other day, and we got to talking about how much times have changed. It doesn't seem that long ago in American history that we got all our news in the newsreels at the movies. The movies where, there was only maybe 2 screens and one movie playing at a time.

Now, you can't have a conversation with someone without them checking their cell phone. People knew about the plane crash on the Hudson before news people could pick it up because of Twitter. People saw it on their cell phones long before the TV could pick it up.

Now we know what our high school sweetheart is doing on a daily basis thanks to MySpace and Facebook, and everyone gets nervous and anxious if they leave their cell phone at home. Society is now so dependent on getting everything immediately. And we do! Who is that actor guesting starring on our favorite show? IMDb will take care of that, you'll never have to strain yourself again.

My question is, which is better?

There is something nice about not knowing how someone's day was before you got home, so you have something to discuss over dinner. Hell, having dinner together!

Not constantly feeling as if you were missing out on something. Being able to meet somewhere that you set up weeks earlier, knowing they'll show up and not flake out last minute, and enjoy just each others company.

There is something alluring about life being so simple and pleasant.

On the other hand, I'm a tech girl. I love making my video blogs and updating my twitter account...and writing my blog, knowing I'm reaching out to a world that a decade ago wouldn't even know I existed.

It's two different worlds...I'm not sure which I'd prefer.

A Blog about Nothing

For the past week and a half, my check engine light has been on. It shines up at me like a dysfunctional doomsday clock; I have no idea when this emergency will actually occur. Every once and awhile it will take some sort of coffee break and turn off for a few hours or even days. But it always comes back.

I decided to get an oil change today in case that might be the problem, since I'd checked and the oil was pretty dirty. Inevitably that means meandering around Walmart like Novalee Nation in Where the Heart Is. It's not happy.

So I decided to hoof it in the nasty 117 degree heat across the parking lot to the comic book store to pick up the new Buffy, Angel, and Spike comics (shut. it.) and back so that I had something to keep me busy for an hour.

I got back and my car hadn't moved, so I settled into the waiting room where I was joined in minutes by two unattended children. Both were maybe 6 or 7 years old, one skinny and one sadly humongous. Skinny immediately went over to the TV and turned it up and started flipping channels. Soon he realized that the only channel he was going to get was PBS, so he left it and went to a chair next to his sibling and started in on the ice cream sandwich he had been given in lieu of parenting.

You know what comes next; one kid with an ice cream sandwich, and another with a Klondike bar. It was only a matter of time before the entire floor was covered in chocolate. Still no parent in sight. I got a phone call so I took it away from the little brats. When I was done I came back in to finish my comics (I said shut. it.) only to find the floor covered in smeared chocolate (nothing like walking in it after you've dropped everything.) and....wait for it....

covered in ants.

Now I can't even sit down and read. I have to go outside, stand, and read.

Thankfully my car was done a few minutes later, and I opened my car door to find they had set my parking brake.

Had this been my old car, no big, it doesn't even work. But this was my new, hard, obnoxious car. The doors close on you when you aren't looking, I have the bruises to prove it. I sighed and went to work on trying to get the parking brake off.

15 minutes later I was throwing things and yelling. I got out of the car to head inside to ask someone to help me when I saw this huge man, the size of a lightweight sumo wrestler, crossing the parking lot. I begged him to help me, and he obliged.

I've always relied on the kindness of strangers.

Sometimes They Twitter Like Birds...

Obviously nothing has happened to me worth writing about. I've been getting into the mini-blogging that is Twitter, that bas been nice. I could recount the immaturity of friends that I've had to deal with in the last month, but in all honesty it's to stupid to repeat. And it's all been friends of friends anyway. I'm not cool enough to have my own drama.

Mostly it just made me think about how selfish everyone is lately. A friend of mine blogged this, and It moved me so much that I had to steal it for my own devices:

"The Way We Live Now"

[Scott McLellan, in his recently published book] wrote that President Bush “convinces himself to believe what suits his needs at the moment,” and has engaged in “self-deception” to justify his political ends ...

Bruce Springsteen once said "President Nixon legitimized 'the scam'" and gave people the green light to engage in less-than-ethical behavior throughout the rest of the 70s. The ends justifies the means. Never complain, never explain. And for quite a few years after that, ethics went out the door, and the country was never quite the same.

The same thing happened with Bush. Take a look around you.

Do the majority of people you deal with, aside from your closest circle of friends who hopefully you picked wisely, convince themselves to believe what suits their needs at the moment? Do people you work with lie with ease, and believe what are obviously lies to justify their own ends?

I've seen it get worse and worse to the point where an entire generation has entered the work force thinking this is the way life is, that you have to get ahead by believing you are better than anyone else around you and that's more important that hard work, loyalty and dedication.

Bush legitimized self-deception, proved that it works and that there is much to be gained by throwing people under the bus. It's not "What can you do for me?" It's "What can you do for me ... today?"

I hope Obama's impending election will change this, and that the laws of karma turn full circle. That's the change I want to see."

I don't necessarily agree with the political aspect, but more about how people are lately. It's sad that this has happened. I wish something could be done about it, but I don't see it happening in the near future.

A Tiny Bit of Vidication

This Article vindicates me just a little bit from my earlier post. I hope that every woman reads that entire article. We all have a completely fucked up way of looking at food.

I wish I could go back to the time when I was young and I ate when I was hungry. A desert was something that was a treat when it came around, but it wasn't something that consumed our thoughts.

I wish I could think about food as keeping myself alive, not my reason for life.

Sexual Responsiblity

No, a different kind. I just have to get up on my soapbox for a minute about people having sex.

Why do insist upon inviting me over right before, so I have to catch you either in the act, or you refuse to open the door and answer your phone when I get there. I don't fucking understand you.

You are in a relationship, and if you wanted to have sex, why did you invite me over? I realize that on a certain level it's sexy for you to have sex and just get away with being caught, but don't take to long and then leave me on your front stoop, banging on your door.

It's rude. I don't care if you've been in a relationship for years or weeks. It's awkward for me, having to admit that you are having sex when I'd rather just pretend that you didn't. The mental picture of anyone I know personally getting it on is something I'd rather not picture. Then I have to imagine you naked, and I'd rather not.

Long story short, If I'm on my way over, keep it in your pants. It's really starting to piss me off.

A Catharic Bit of Fiction

I’m torn up about our breakup last night. Not the fact that we broke up, of course, but just about your complete ass-hattery. Not only are you not who I thought you were, but I had no idea that one human could hold so many contradictions. Your asinine use of circular logic had me all but rolling on the floor. The way you can twist existence so that the earth revolves around you at twice it’s normal speed is amazing.

In the last few weeks of our relationship I’ve seen you go from normal to fear of commitment, and it’s been an exciting ride. From the ‘wow, sleeping with a hot blonde everyday is fun’ to ‘wait, you want me to support you in a decision?’

The greatest part was the way you projected all your mental issues on me. You had a problem with food, so I had to stock my own apartment with low-fat soymilk because it was ‘better for ME.’ Not you, but me. Suddenly my health was a huge concern, because I asked you once to stop me before I over-ate. And then I got the wrong brand of soy milk, and it was like the sky had fallen.

Near the end your behavior became what psychologists call the “Anxious/Ambivalent Attachment style.” I know you like to spout all your existentialist crap, but you rarely know what any of it means, so I’ll explain. An Anxious/Ambivalent attachment style is when someone has an expectation about social relationships characterized by a concern that others will not return affection. Now, as much as you’d like to say the same thing about me, I’ve got another one for you; the Arousal: Cost-reward model. What, you say? Well, that’s a theory that helping or not helping is a function of emotional arousal and analysis of the cost and rewards of helping.

Long story short, you’ve got a LOT of issues kid. And I’m giving you a complex by using all these big words, so I’ll let you take a break. Plus, I only got through the “A”s in my psych book, and we’d just be here all day.

But I’ll end on a note that is sort of close to the end of the alphabet:

You are a Complete Tool.

I Don't Know You, So You're Fat

I'm about 30 pounds overweight. I've been 30 pounds overweight for about 3 years now. Of course I'm not happy about it, and I've tried every stupid fad diet on the planet. I read articles like this and this and this. And I always did what everyone else does; skim through it and assume I ate too much. I consumed WAY to many calories.

I tried to do The Master Cleanse, in which you don't eat and just drink a gross beverage that requires an ice water chaster to get down. That resulted in me throwing up my stomach acid on day 3. It's supposed to last 10 days. I tried SlimQuick, which did nothing for me after the first day, and that was just from the extreme amount of caffeine that resides in those pills.

One day a few months ago, I was on StumbleUpon, and I came upon a cool calorie counter. You could put in McDonald's, Cheesecake Factory, Lean Cuisine, everything. I thought "Finally, I can put everything I eat into this thing, and I can see where I need to cut calories."

I entered everything in, and when I wasn't sure about something (like if it was cooked in butter) I just assumed the most calories.

The final total of calories I consumed per day was 400-600 calories. The average caloric intake for a woman is 2,000 calories.

That's right. I was technically anorexic. I had all the signs, and I never put two and two together. Because all those articles were telling me that I was fat because I ate to much. I never thought that the only reason I couldn't shake this weight was because my body was in starvation mode.

Plus, I had/have all the other signs; Insomnia, Pale Complexion, Hair Falling Out, Becoming Dizzy when Standing To Fast. The only time I ever ate was when I was with people. Because I was a social eater, my friends chalked it up to the fact that I was eating to much as well. Even I didn't realize that the only time I was eating was when I was with them.

Even this very minute, I should eat something, but there is no one around. I feel stupid eating by myself.

Accidental Anorexia....who would've thought?

And it's funny...I would have known this sooner if I had bothered to finish any of those articles. Then I'd know that Diet Soda isn't making me fat, it's just a crappy excuse that the author uses so that we feel like crap about ourselves.

Maybe some of us aren't losing weight because we are eating to much. Maybe we are starving, because we only read half of the articles. I only drink one soda every few days, but reading the first few lines of that article had me swearing off diet soda forever.

I don't know what it is that makes us so susceptible to what people say, but it needs to stop.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go eat something. After 9pm. And I'll still be thinner in the morning.

I Hate Oprah

I know that I promised not to watch Oprah again. I hate her so much, with her judgmental self-righteousness. But a few weeks ago I saw the beginning and couldn’t help but watch the whole thing in order to make fun of it.

It started by her asking the audience to get out a piece of paper and write down five words that describe your marriage or relationship. For the record, I decided to play along, and choose silly, communicative, loving, fulfilling, and happy.

Then she brought Gary the WonderShrink. GtWS said that what every relationship needs to strive for is what he calls “spiritual partnership.” His description for this was “Equal, together for the purpose of spiritual growth. To that I had to say, “que?” I mean, are they talking about people trying to better themselves, or are they talk about religion?

He started in on Jerry Maguire and how Renee’s line, “You complete me” ruined the relationships of people everywhere. He said “Only you can complete yourself.” So far I was with him. But then he said “There are no such things as soul mates.”

He didn’t even elaborate; he just stated it as if he said “We are out of cheese.” As if that statement was just supposed to be taken and accepted. Oprah actually said “We are screwed by romance in this country.”

Then GtWS started to elaborate on the whole “Spiritual Partnership” thing. He started out by asking what a couple’s real intentions were when they entered into the relationship, because intention is motivation. I had to ask “Shit, I had to have a reason why? I couldn’t just do it because we were compatible and loved each other??? No one sent me that memo!” Which is when he said that companionship and love do not enter into those intentions.

He talked about how people needed to live lives of meaning, purpose, and to get motivation from their “spiritual partnership.” Oh, and the “Spiritual Partnership” ends when the spiritual growth stops. Who has this much energy???

Then both Oprah and GtWS start harping on romance again. They pretty much say it’s all a lie, and it doesn’t exist. Romance is Dead. Next on Oprah.

And, um, remind me again…how many times has she been married? None you say? Huh. Well, she’s the expert then. Wonder how many times Good Old Gary has been married.

GtWS said he doesn’t say you should do any of this, or make any changes to your relationship…only do something if you are feeling unfulfilled. Hell, right now I’m just glad I’m not stuck in an unloving relationship with Gary or Oprah.

By the way, Gary the WonderShrink is the author of “See to the Soul.” Funny how you can talk about soul, yet not believe in love or romance.

I Just Need it to Hold My Stuff

I think of handbags as pure function. When I got out looking for a handbag I look for just a few things;

• Is the price reasonable?
• Will it hold all my shit?
• Does it look like my grandma pawned it off on me? (If it does, I won't buy it!)
• Will it match..basically, is it black?
  

As long as it fits the criteria, I will buy it. It hasn't ever been a problem, me finding a purse.

Not until now.

In-between the last time I found a purse ($5 at Old Navy, it lasted for over a year!) and now, handbags have suddenly become a different thing. It's not longer a place to hold all your shit, but a status symbol.

Coach is the perfect example of how ludicrous the "handbag industry" has gotten. This is a $300 dollar bag from Coach:
Do you see all that writing on the bag? Yeah, that's telling you that it's a Coach bag and it's only made from the best materi--Who Cares??? You just paid $300 to advertise for Coach! A quick Google search showed me that there are some handbags that cost more than I paid for my car. My car!

Regardless, my $5 bag from Old Navy is about to die on me. I had to go shopping for a new bag. I ended up paying $75. If you are grading on a curve, that's not bad.

But I'm still angry I had to pay that much for a damn bag. It better last until I die, because I never want to spend that much money on another bag again. The label says it's Kathy Van Zeeland. In fact, Kathy included a little note inside the handbag thanking me.

I'm glad someone is happy about it. I'm still a little sick to my stomach. Maybe it'll grow on me, but for now it's functional, and I'm content.





Do you think I made the right decision?

Emotionally Disconnected

When we were babies, our emotions were out there on our sleeves. We had happy and upset and not a whole lot in-between. Skip to about five years old, and we are starting to understand the more complex nature of things. Maybe a pet has already died, or someone had hurt our feelings. Our parents/guardians have to now make a decision; how do you tell us little kids how to deal with our emotions.

If someone is making fun of you, you A) Ignore them, B) Make fun of them back, or C) Something else. The result is another emotion. If that emotion is good, then we have found our coping mechanism.

When/How do they show us how to repress our emotion? What makes a lover and a fighter? Why do I get upset when people I’m meeting up with are late, and serial killers feel no remorse for the lives they have taken? Why do I laugh when a guy is talking about how hot Morgan Fairchild was (naked) onstage in The Graduate, and someone else loses it and yells at them about how offensive it is?

As we grow older, we call it being “mature” and “immature.” We can no longer throw a fit because we didn’t get what we want. Different things have more of an impact. As Americans we like things wrapped up; we like our ending. Nothing ever really dies in our minds if there isn’t a clear-cut ending. We have no control of what upsets us and what doesn’t.

So why do people always tell us to get over it? Why are we constantly trying to control our emotions, and most of the time we lose control? Sometimes life is so hard, and our emotions just take over…sometimes we are so upset that we shut down. We start laughing because we are tired of crying…or we just plain stop caring. We cared so much for so long, that we just can’t care anymore. Where did those emotions go?

Where do emotions go when they are suppressed?

Inner Psychologist

Sometimes my inner psychologist gets the best of me, and I wish I could psycho-analyze certain types of people. Not that there is anything wrong with any of these people, but I just want to get inside their head and find out what makes them tick. Here are just a few;

Bouncers/Bodyguards Who Work in Nightclubs
I want to know how they got into this job. How does one decide that they will become a bouncer? Do they feel like they can hit on the chicks because of their job, or do they not because they want to keep their job? Do they still get turned on by all the hot chicks, or have they had to deal with so many drunk ones their taste for them is gone? Where do they go if they want to go out and have fun? Is it easier to have a girlfriend, or stay single in that environment?

Doctors/Nurses That Are Residents of Hospitals
How do you deal with death on a daily basis? Do you go home and just cry some nights? Do you feel that you are somehow responsible for some of the patients that you treat that don’t come out 100%? Does working at the hospital most resemble E.R. or Gray’s Anatomy (or neither)?

The Guy going to clubs and trying to hook up at age 45
I’m going through a huge quarter-life crisis right now, and I can just imagine the guys that fool themselves into thinking they are still 21. What is running through these guys heads? Do they really think they are going to hook up with a 21 year old blonde bimbo? When you only have Bud Light in your ‘fridge and club shirts in your closet, do you ever stop to think about the future?

Religions that Don’t Have Holidays
You don’t have any days to look forward to!

Religions that Do Celebrate Holidays
Don’t you feel stupid looking forward to holidays, when you know they are just any other day?

Someone who is the opposite of me in every way
Because really, who wouldn’t want to know how that mind worked???

"At 23 I thought I would be somebody" ~Reality Bites

You are flipping channels and you see it; That Movie. The movie that you loved so much as a kid and haven’t seen in forever. You settle in and wait for the memories to flood back.

Two hours later you sit in front of the TV, floored. This was the movie you loved so much? You were a kid when you watched it last, but there was so much sexual innuendo and violence. Or, even worse, it hits you differently. You find yourself identifying with the parents instead of the children of the story.

When you were a kid you remember thinking “When I have children I am NOT going to treat them like that.” Now you see where the parents are coming from. You would do the same thing the parents did. You feel like if your 7 year-old self was standing before you, she’d be bitterly disappointed in the way you’ve turned out.

There have been so many movies over the years that have done this to me. I never realized the sexual tension between Gena Davis and Jeff Goldblum…The realness of Reality Bites…the struggle of Angela’s parents on My So-Called Life. Hell, I was unaware that there was an abortion in Dirty Dancing until a few years ago when I watched it again. I just thought she had a bad flu or something.

People put so much emphasis on not letting children see anything sexy. A movie can show someone’s head being ripped off and get a lower rating than a tame love scene. If they are afraid of children growing up and doing what they see in movies, I’d rather they fall hopelessly in love than go on a killing spree. It goes over their heads more than you think.

My mom never told me I couldn’t see anything because it was R rated or unfit. I think limiting a child to what they can see is like telling a child they aren’t smart enough to understand, and no one likes to be told that. I hope I remember to do that when I’m a parent.

When I'm sad I eat, When I'm happy I eat?

I was thinking about the whole "art imitating life or life imitating art" issue the other day--and I thought I had it all worked out in my head until I saw Rod's blog. The actual paragraph that made me think was this:

"I read recently, as I was studying up on creativity, on where it comes from and how to wrap your arms around it and welcome it into your spirit, that it's nearly impossible to be creative if you're not happy. This struck me as being very true. If your energy is tightly focused on how cluttered your desk is, or how sleepy you are, or how you never get any time for yourself, it won't be delightfully, wonderfully, frighteningly open. It is the openness that allows the fragments of images and words to merge into a new idea. You cannot be open if you are not happy."

I'm the complete opposite: some of my best writing has come from my darkest hours. My best work to date is an assignment I knew I couldn't finish to my liking on time, and my suicide note. Oh calm down, it was a long time ago. In fact, every time I read it, that thing makes me laugh. I was so angry with the world and life that I wrote things that I knew would cut to the heart of everyone I addressed. I'm not afraid to admit that it was a damn good piece of writing. I wrote it to make an impact. In fact, I make make it into a book some day. Wouldn't that be morbid...but oh so funny?

Anyway, I thought tortured writers were the norm until I read Rod's post. I even thought that maybe artists made art because we were the only people who saw the world for what it really was. Our art was our way of escaping. While scientific people called artists dreamers, it was actually them who lived in the fantasy world.

Think about it; They don't call them "starving artists" for nothing. Because artistry isn't mainstream, we can't get jobs that pay enough to support our passion. We could never call our art our job, only our hobby. Very few of us will ever be successful enough to say we are artists, not "entry level workers with a very creative mind." At best we will become successful only after we die.

So we live our lives, trying everyday to escape the painful real world. We hope for the best, knowing we'll have the worst. If only we could all marry rich. That would solve a lot of our problems!

And who knows; Maybe it's just me!