I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar!

I am a strong woman. No, I’m not a feminist. I am just a strong individual. Feminism is not for strong individuals. Feminism says, “Women and men are not equal, but we need to be!” And I don’t believe an ounce of that. People think that feminism is about a woman’s strength, but it’s not. It’s about whining and bitching about how shit isn’t fair. And that’s the exact opposite of being a strong person.

I know I’m tough. I’ve been through so many things, been at such low points, but I made it through them all and THAT is what shows my true strength. Not wearing ugly clothes and holding up a sign about my ovaries somewhere. Yes, I generalized. Whatever. Sue Me. I know all feminists aren’t like that, but I found it humorous. Anyways, you get my point. I don’t have to slap a label on myself and stand with a bunch of other insecure, inferior feeling people to find my strength. 

I KNOW on my own that my gender is not inferior nor is is superior to any other gender that may be out there (men or some mix between both). And I don’t need someone else to back me up. I’m secure in myself enough to not feel inferior to men, or about my race or my age or other things like that that DO NOT define us. What defines us are our actions/reactions, thoughts, choices, morals, preferences, and emotions. Why would any ignorant person out there think that one gender is better than the other? We are BOTH needed the same amount for the reproductive process, which is the only reason for our gender differences. So it’s ridiculous to think one reigns supreme over the other.

I know that men and women are equal. And no paycheck, organization, or person can make me think differently, regardless of their actions or words.

A Really Fucking Weird Dream of Mine

So I just thought back on something as a memory and realized its ridiculousness and how recent it was in my mind and have concluded that it was a dream of mine last night.

I was at some concert in like…a highschool or something on a big stage. And two black people came out with white paint all over their faces. And I remember thinking, well if they can be in white face, is it not racist for white people to be in black face?

I must’ve had It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia on my mind lol

I only wrote this down because I hardly ever remember my dreams

Teaching Myself Life Lessons n Shit

So I just learned something about determination. After 2 laborious hours of digging my car out of the snow/mostly ice to go get cigarettes, I thought about what made me do something like that. And it’s the fact that people, when we want something, we will go to great lengths to get it. Goes back to the old saying “where there’s a will, there’s a way.” And you know what? It’s so fucking true. I mean with most things anyways. I’m not saying if you want to turn yourself into a cat that you can if you try hard enough. Although I guess if that was like…really your life goal and you committed yourself to scientifically being able to genetically mutate yourself into a cat, hey you might accomplish it after x amount of years. I mean look at that reptile dude from Ripley’s Believe It or Not…

Sincerely, the power we possess as human beings is phenomenal. So what has been stopping me from doing everything I want? What has stopped me from being the me I want to be? I have come to the conclusion that I really must not want it as bad as I thought. My motivation and willpower is lacking. And that fucking sucks. Because not having the motivation to get yourself to a place you want to be will just keep you unhappy and feeling like shit.

So you know what I want to do with my life? I want to be happy. And that’s a blanket, broad statement, yes. But I have specifics about what will make me happy.

It will make me happy to love myself. And how do I do that when I feel like such a fucking overwhelmed wreck most of the time? Well I’ve got to pinpoint what exactly is making me feel so shitty and change it. And really change it.

I have to say, I really neglect my health. I’m not obese, I don’t have any deadly diseases or anything like that. But I’m not healthy. And I know being healthy will help me just…feel better in general. It will give me more energy to be motivated to change things. A continuous cycle that’s actually good for me.

I NEED to get more sleep each night. Okay I know writing this at 1am is a little contradictory, but whatever. Figuring out my mind is higher on the priorities list because otherwise I will just be laying in bed thinking all of this for hours until I pass out from exhaustion. Which is how I usually fall asleep. I don’t just fall asleep peacefully, I literally have to pass out from being so tired. And you know why? Because I don’t use enough energy every day! I get a shit load of calories, carbs, and sugar from greasy shitty foods and sit on my ass most of the day. That has to change. I need to eat vegetables, cut out bread (which is like 50% of my diet), eat fruit, and actually drink water. Yeah I’ve noticed I will literally have a day or two where I do not drink water. That doesn’t sound smart.  And I need to DO MORE each day. Whether it’s lift these little weights in my room, do some crunches, take my dog for a walk (when there isn’t a foot of snow outside), etc, I need to use more energy each day. And then actually go to sleep at a human time. Like 11. Not super early, but enough time for me to get my 8 hours of sleep before school.

I also need to stop getting on facebook so much. The amount of time I waste…

And I want to get better at guitar. But that’s not going to happen from just looking at it. Which means I need to actually fucking practice. And on a regular basis. I haven’t touched my guitar in weeks because I’ve been feeling so fucking fucked up. And then I’m worse at guitar when I pick it up after not playing in weeks which makes me more frustrated with myself. I just need to get in the habit of playing for maybe a half hour or even just 20 minutes every day.

And I need to clean up my room (short term goal kind of…my room is pretty messy…maybe long term). But this clutter is making my mind feel cluttered. I need to go thru all of my shit, throw away the stuff I don’t need or use, and organize what I want to keep. Forreal.

I also need to do yoga again. I guess that’s kind of exercising. But really, yoga and meditation. I need to center myself.

And stop watching TV because really it’s pointless. I sit, some of my brain cells turn to goo, and I am left with nothing but a smaller brain and a hunger to watch more. And a physical hunger for unhealthy food.

And I need to take school more seriously. I haven’t even read past chapter 1 (out of 4) and I’m over half way done with school. I literally paid two thousand dollars, my dad paid eight, for this schooling. It’s about damn time I gave it the respect it fucking deserves.

I need to stop getting wrapped up in sexual encounters!!!!!!!! They waste my time, the hurt my heart, and they make my bipolar disorder even worse. I get sent into episodes of hypomania, then mania, then manic depression when they (inevitably) don’t work out. And my psyche cannot take any more. When I was packing up my stuff from Dakota’s house, I literally started hyperventilating, shaking, felt like I couldn’t breathe, and found that my mind would not stop repeating “I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t fucking do this what the fuck am I fucking doing.” Like really. I told my really good friend Ethan about it and he said it was probably a panic attack. What the hell? I don’t want to have panic attacks! And that’s not the first time stuff like that has happened to me which means I apparently have a history of panic or anxiety attacks. So if that’s what trying to be with someone who I KNOW isn’t right for me is going to do to me, then I have GOT to fucking stop fucking myself over. It’s this self destructive behavior that needs to stop. I purposely will choose to do things that fuck me up. It’s like, in the moment I’m not thinking “hey this will mess up a shit load of things” but after I’ve done them I’m like….”why the hell did I do ANY of that? I knew it wouldn’t be good.” My subconscious is out to get me. And you know why? It’s because I don’t love myself. In fact, I loathe myself. And I’m done with that. I’m not that fucking bad. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and done some pretty goddamn horrible things in my life, but as long as I have love in my heart for everyone and everything, who cares about my past? I’m overflowing with love to give, but I keep it all compartmentalized in this part of my heart that never gets used. I don’t give any to myself or anything in my life. I just spill out hatred and jealousy and fear. And I can’t keep living like this. Like really. If I keep operating in fear, it will literally be the death of me. I’m tantalized by the thought of suicide every day that I don’t love. And I’ve come to realize that loving isn’t just sexual (seems like a duh thing, but hey I’m still learning). I can love myself, I can love this temple I call my body, I can love my brother, my dog, my home, my car, etc.

It’s so hard to love with all the negative energy in me though.

Alright, I have a lot more I’ve learned but right now I need to meditate. Negative energy is flowing out of me in the form of tears.

Out with the bad and in with the love.

Tales of Token #1

My dog is a unique individual. I feel like he’s in this sub level between dog and human consciousness abilities. At times, I feel like we can almost communicate telepathically. It’s probably because we’ve tripped together on a couple different things (one on accident). Yeah he’s a cheeky bastard, he ground scored some mushrooms once. And we had been vibing on Love together. He actually that time got so high he pissed himself. Like, he was laying down with his eyes closed, possibly sleeping, in bed with me and just started peeing! He jumped up surprised as fuck haha. It was ridiculous.
I love my dog though, man. He’s a real card. And he’s ghetto.

How ghetto is he?

So he absolutely LOVES squeaky toys. But he can’t have them. Why? Because the scoundrel will chew up that squeaky toy to get to the very squeaker itself and then proceed in attempting to eat said squeaker. It’s kind of difficult to always have to be on the lookout when he’s playing to see if he finally got it. Ya know? And the determination of that boy…well he’s as stubborn as me and I’m a Taurus.  But anyways, the taboo squeaky toy is one of Token’s very favorites. He’d pass up a treat for a squeaky toy any day. Well, at our new place in West County, he has this really old, falling apart, raggedy soccer ball. And it must have holes in it or something because half of it collapses in. But if you take the muddy ball in your hand and press the caved in sides of the half closer together, air blows through the holes and makes a slight, “tssss,” sound. It faintly resembles a squeaker. This sound now delights him to no ends. He’ll come running up to you, mud covering his entire legs, belly, and tail, carrying this pathetic excuse of a soccer ball, making repeated hissing noises. He’ll maybe do a little leap or bound if I’ve been gone for longer than usual and he’s especially excited to see me. Making mud pies fly everywhere of course. I love my spunky lil pup.

Right now we’re inside. He’s sitting with his nose shoved to the door trying to put it underneath. Not struggling, just resting his head there, as close as he can get to outside of this room. He hates how small the inside space is. I feel bad, but he’s been in much smaller for much longer and he can deal with it now. He’s just bein a brat. He has room to play fetch with some cardio if he jumps up on my bed it’s a decent distance. I mean i literally can throw the pieces of string that used to be a tug-o-war toy across the room. But I digress, he’s interested in the band practice. Token hasn’t listened to too much funk. I can tell the sounds intrigue him. I mean, they kind of frighten him because he runs past the band room every time they’re playing yet when he’s in my room he’s like “But Mooooommmm I wanna go see what everyone ELSE is doing!!”

I guess I personify my dog as bratty, mischievous 5-year-old. It’s pretty appropriate most times.

Token spent Friday at my parents’ house without me while I was recovering from strep throat and then we both spent Saturday night there. That’s a picture my mom sent me Saturday morning with the caption, “Goodmornin mama!”

I give what I get.

Ever feel like no one’s really putting any energy into you? You think they are at first and they show signs of it from time to time but then it’s just nothing?

Maybe I’m just clingy.

But whatever energy someone puts into trying to be near my presence is the same amount I’m going to put into being around theirs. Why waste time trying to be around someone who doesn’t want to be around you?

I’m not foolish enough for that one.

100 Word Challenge For Grown Ups Week 76 Beneath the Surface

He begged me to stay. I didn’t understand why. We had only been living together for 6 months. Sure we had known each other for years, but we fought nearly every day since I moved in.

“It’s not worth the energy,” I told him, “I bother you clearly. I do things wrong and I’m selfish. I’ll likely do more horrible things and I’m liable to feel a need to escape from mundane life at any second. I need to break free.”

He mulled over everything I had said, everything we had experienced.

“I can live with that,” he muttered.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind- My thoughts after seeing it for the first time.

So I just finished watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. So many different thoughts and emotions were invoked in me because of this film. A lot of surprising ones. Like jealousy for one. And sorrow. And joy. And loneliness. Overwhelming loneliness. But it’s a beautiful movie nonetheless. It made me want what they have. And I don’t usually get that way watching movies about lovers or couples and what not, but I think I enjoyed this because it wasn’t some bullshit lovey dovey fantasy. It was real. It showed true aspects of what I think of love as. It didn’t just focus on oh how wonderful it is to be in love. No, it showed the rough, grittiness of love. They yelled at each other, hurt each other’s feelings, and ran away. But even after having their fucking memories erased, the bond between them, the way they made each other feel, couldn’t be denied.

I think my absolute favorite part was at the very end. They had just found out that they had both gotten each other erased from their memories. They each listened to the tapes that had been mailed back to them, their own voices saying horrible things about a person whom they thought they just met. And Joel runs after Clementine down the hall of his apartment building and asks her to wait. She says wait for what? And he’s tongue tied. Tells her he doesn’t know what for, just wait for a while. And you start to get the sickly sweet feeling of a cheesy ending coming on, but before you get let down, they surprise you. She doesn’t just, like most ditz characters in movies, fall for some cheesy line that doesn’t make too much sense if you really look at it. She tells him how imperfect she is. And he tries to say that he doesn’t see anything wrong with her. This next part is what I love so much. She says no but you will. You’ll find things wrong with me and I’ll get bored of you and feel trapped because that’s what I do. And I can so relate to that. That’s how I always end up feeling in relationships. I feel like me and Clementine are kind of similar though she’s a bit quirkier than me. But after Clem just laying it out point blank that things are going to go wrong, Joel is silent for a moment, absorbing it in. And then he does the craziest thing, he accepts it and says “okay.”

That. That is my favorite part. It’s only one word and we say it more often than we realize, but it just goes to show that its not necessarily the vocabulary or sentence structure even, just the meaning behind what’s being said that can really impact someone. He has accepted that yeah, they’re going to argue and annoy or bore one another, but he loves her and he’s willing to deal with it. And I think that’s what love is. It’s unconditionally caring about someone and realizing that hey, you’re gonna have times where this person makes you madder than hell or vice versa, but the pros outweigh the cons. The deep feeling of compassion and good will towards someone. It’s something magical. And it only works if both parties feel that way.

Which is why I’m so doubtful I’ll ever find love.

Who could accept all my bad and feel like the good outweighs is? Maybe some day I will find someone I feel like that about and who shares the same feelings for me.

That is a true soul mate.

Oh my god. This is an epiphany.

Shaunanagins

I’m going to describe to you a hypothetical scenario.  (Just hypothetical, mind you. I am not admitting to anything.).

You check Facebook. You see a post from an old friend.  This post suggests that they’re doing cool stuff, and they’re doing it well. Yes, someone else’s life is awesome.

You’re a good person, of course, so your first thought is: Hey, that’s cool! Good for my friend!

(…except that it’s not.)

You start clicking through pictures.   They have really cool looking new friends (who, you assume, are way cooler than you). And they’re hot.  When did everyone get hot? When did everyone start doing cool stuff?  By this point, your friend has completely trumped anything hanging around your profile–three months worth of George Takei “shares” and one music video from the 90s, to be exact.  You look up.  You are surrounded by all the laundry you have to do…

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You Just Keep On Usin Me Til Ya Use Me Up

I promised myself I wouldn’t write a piece on here about all the bullshit that has been happening with immature people that I thought were out of my life but apparently love being in it. Ugh. Anyways, I’m not. The incident will be mentioned though.

I wanted to focus more on opinions and self worth instead. I’m not gonna lie, hearing that someone who you used to be good friends with is now making up absurdities about you and telling them to people you don’t know was a little bit unsettling to me at first. I think to your average person it would be upsetting even. But I wasn’t upset or angry, I was just…disturbed. Bothered a smidge. After much stoned thought and consideration, I’ve come to the epiphany that…that entire occurrence shouldn’t even penetrate my thoughts.

For one, this girl, this sad sad little girl is not someone I would particularly want to have any kind of interaction with at all. I feel mostly pity for her. No scratch that, I feel purely pity for her. So why would her thoughts or opinion of me even perturb me in the slightest, right? Exactly. Poof. Logic just eliminated an unnecessarily and irrational emotion. Now I can grow and move past that.

Secondly, the people that would be stupid enough to choose to have her around them much less give anything she says any validation. Those are not people I want to include in my world. She has meaningless things to say and anyone that partakes in petty things like that are not valuable to my time. And quite frankly I don’t have much free time (except Mondays yayyy!) and all of it is pretty much designated at the moment. Like I have a list of things to do in my free time. Whether it’s just bettering myself or that laundry sitting in the washing machine downstairs…

What I’m saying is, I know that I am a good person. I try to do good every day and love everyone and stay away from the bad people in this world who release negative energy. I don’t want to say I’m better than that, but I almost kind of do. It’s cliche unoriginal whatever, but it’s like the simplest way to say what I’m feeling. I mean like, I deserve better from the  people I allow in my world. So if someone is going to constantly do malicious things toward me, I just need to simply not let their energy into my mind. Their negative presence. Because I deserve to get back what I put out. I’m tired of always putting out good energy and getting nothing back from people. Reminds me of the Bill Withers song that Dakota sang at open mic night last night, just keep on usin me til you use me up.

Anyways my high ass is digressing.

So really what I’m saying, everyone and everything involved in negativeness of all kinds isn’t worth my time or energy.

And the only reason I feel this blog is worth it is because now the next time I inevitably encounter someone that drains me mentally, I have already logically explained away any useless problematic emotions or feelings of obligations/attachments or whatever.

And I have record of it.

Score.

DPChallenge

In response to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/01/28/writing-challenge-1000-words/#more-13580

          I wore a green shirt. I figured it would blend in more. Black is cliché, yellow obnoxious. Green is cool. I could feel the lady in red following me. Looked an awful lot like a CIA agent that followed me last February. Even the elderly couple did a double take. The man with the messenger bag hadn’t noticed that I had already noticed him noticing me. And no one knew I was about to push the elderly couple in front of the trolley and make a run for it.

Why had it come to such distasteful, brute violence? My face was all over the news in Italy; wanted dead or alive for conspiracy, high treason, and murder. But they didn’t know the real story. The government was controlling the media, has been since the beginning. The government can lie and no one is there to question it. It only makes sense that after so long, corruption would ensue. And I, Hank Jonathan Tucker, liberty loving American, will fight to illuminate the darkness. Regardless of what they want, we all Americans deserve to know the truth.

So why is a good, honest, freedom fighter like me balding at the ripe age of 37 and in a foreign country? Genetics and a corrupt power figure called the President has decided that lies are best for the population of America. And those who disagree will be silenced by any means necessary.

I used to be in the CIA. Nothing too big, not a secret agent, that’s for sure. No, I did paperwork on cases. Filed and coded it all.  Lots of time behind a keyboard. But the pay was decent, and I didn’t have to talk to too many people. But a fella like me gets bored from time to time and sometimes sticks his nose in places it shouldn’t be. Those times get guys like me in trouble. A tip to anyone doing paperwork in the CIA, don’t steal keys to open secret file cabinets with secret documents in them. They sure don’t appreciate the enthusiasm. And after they let you go, they really try to make you GO. AWAY.

I wasn’t quite sure how I had gotten this far. Since I’d began my life on the run, I’d lost a lot of good friends. Smart ones, the kind that should’ve lasted a lot longer than your average Joe like me. But it didn’t matter how or why I’d been able to run from the CIA and FBI for a year in constant hot pursuit. All that mattered was that Gianmarco, the seaman I’d met earlier that week, was a 15 minute run from exactly where I was standing and waiting to leave at the exact second I stepped on the ship. A fellow believer of truth for all governments, he was willing to escape with me. He had been exiled from Italy more than three years ago. He had come back to see his wife and little girl. We met at a safe house. Being near the same age and having similar interests, sailing was always a hobby of mine, we’d forged a necessary bond immediately. He needed someone to help command his ship to South America. Our plan was to find a covert place in Porto Alegro, Brazil to hide for a bit.

My heart started racing. I had a split second to plan and execute everything flawlessly. I braced myself and gave the elderly couple a large shove in front of the moving trolley. I willed my legs to move as quickly as they could, one in front of the other. But alas, all my plans, all of Gianmarco’s plans, in vain. The lady in red, or Agent Henderson, and the man with the messenger bag, also known as Agent Lockwood, both revealed their previously concealed firearms and each obliterated my knee caps.

They said my head had fallen in the edge of the road as my body dropped limp on the sidewalk. Goddamn trolleys. The coma lasted almost a year. I woke up, muscles too weak to lift myself, in a prison infirmary. The nurse told me my court date is going to be set for next week. The needle is on the line. This is the end of the line. All I can say is that I hope the rest of the world will wise itself up and start fighting for the truth. God knows my days are numbered.