Cristina: the point is, even if a girl doesn’t like you for some reason, she’s not going to tell the entire eligible female community to stay away
Steven: but they meet on every 3rd of the month…
Cristina: *sigh* *smack*
Steven: right about the time they sync their menstrual cycles
Steven: thats true right? don’t ruin my illusion
Cristina: HAHAHA can you imagine that meeting?! “okay, ladies, first we’ll read the minutes from last month’s meeting…we established that Justin Bieber is still the king of pop, and that we REALLY love Joseph Gordon-Levitt. We also added Joseph Porfert and Randy Naylor to the do-not-date blacklist. Lady chairman, if you will.” “Yes, now before we start with new business - ” “LADY CHAIRMAN I HAVE AN EMERGENCY ADDITION TO THE BLACKLIST.” “…yes, miss congresswoman?” “I move that we immediately vote on putting Steven on the blacklist as well, because he was awkward when we talked.” *rabble rabble rabble*
Cristina: …they would totally vote nay. that’s not a valid reason to blacklist you.
Cristina: “miss congresswoman, your reasoning is unsatisfactory. motion denied.”
Steven: THAT IS WHAT HAPPENS, I KNEW IT
Cristina: i mean uh…
Cristina: IF a meeting of such sort WERE to take place
Cristina: >.>
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
I wish I could make this a handout for my kids.
here are the rules of life. read them carefully, because i have learned that they are all true. and i’m sure when i’m even older, i will discover more that i didn’t want to listen to now.
1. life is not fair - get used to it.
2. the world will not care about your self-esteem. the world will expect you to actually accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.
3. you will not make $60,000 or even $30,000 a year right out of high school. you won’t be able to support yourself working a single part time job. if you want independence and nice things, you have to work your ass off for it.
4. if you think your teachers and parents are tough, wait til you get a boss (or two or three).
5. when push comes to shove, flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. you’ll learn you have to do whatever it takes to survive, if it’s important enough to you.
6. if you mess up, it’s not your parents’ fault, so don’t whine about your mistakes, learn from them.
7. before you were born, your parents probably weren’t as boring as they are now. they got that way after years of paying your bills, cleaning your clothes, and listening to you go on about how cool you think you are. remember that they were once teenagers just like you, and the difference is that they are more mature and educated than you. you could stand to learn a thing or two from them.
8. your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has not. there are some schools that don’t give out failing grades (VB does the E thing instead of F for Failing) and they give you a ton of chances to find the right answer. life doesn’t give a shit about your feelings, and you will fail and no one will even give you a hint that you might be failing. school (even college) does not bear even the slightest resemblance to anything in real life.
9. life is not divided into semesters. you don’t get summers off and there are very few employers who are interested in helping you find yourself. do that on your own time and don’t let it get in the way of your work when your older. to put it bluntly, do that now.
10. TV isn’t real life. i know it sounds obvious, but there are thousands of young adults out there who are shocked that they actually have to do all that random crap like pay HOA dues, find car insurance, go to work every day, etc.
11. be nice to the nerds. befriend them if you can. because chances are, you’ll end up working for them one day.
1. life is not fair - get used to it.
2. the world will not care about your self-esteem. the world will expect you to actually accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.
3. you will not make $60,000 or even $30,000 a year right out of high school. you won’t be able to support yourself working a single part time job. if you want independence and nice things, you have to work your ass off for it.
4. if you think your teachers and parents are tough, wait til you get a boss (or two or three).
5. when push comes to shove, flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. you’ll learn you have to do whatever it takes to survive, if it’s important enough to you.
6. if you mess up, it’s not your parents’ fault, so don’t whine about your mistakes, learn from them.
7. before you were born, your parents probably weren’t as boring as they are now. they got that way after years of paying your bills, cleaning your clothes, and listening to you go on about how cool you think you are. remember that they were once teenagers just like you, and the difference is that they are more mature and educated than you. you could stand to learn a thing or two from them.
8. your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has not. there are some schools that don’t give out failing grades (VB does the E thing instead of F for Failing) and they give you a ton of chances to find the right answer. life doesn’t give a shit about your feelings, and you will fail and no one will even give you a hint that you might be failing. school (even college) does not bear even the slightest resemblance to anything in real life.
9. life is not divided into semesters. you don’t get summers off and there are very few employers who are interested in helping you find yourself. do that on your own time and don’t let it get in the way of your work when your older. to put it bluntly, do that now.
10. TV isn’t real life. i know it sounds obvious, but there are thousands of young adults out there who are shocked that they actually have to do all that random crap like pay HOA dues, find car insurance, go to work every day, etc.
11. be nice to the nerds. befriend them if you can. because chances are, you’ll end up working for them one day.
Monday, June 18, 2012
"be that self which one truly is." (kierkegaard)
Below are some things that i feel define me in some way. all of these things significantly contribute to the kind of person i am, whether negative or positive. some are merely amusing anecdotes, others are deeper and more personal. one of my character defects is a tendency to overshare, and keeping that in mind i have limited some details in this post. that is not to say i am ashamed; i only censor to protect those i love. my life does not only involve me, it involves others, therefore some discretion must be involved.
[UPDATE: Today is April 02, 2014 and I have added some annotations to make this relatively current.]
Every once in a while i get all introspective and sort of try to regroup. this has happened quite often with me these past eight months, since a huge part of my recovery is self-discovery. there are some things about me that will never change. other things will change, or already have changed drastically. i can honestly say that i feel like a completely different person today than i was a year ago. and i’m still learning, and therefore changing, every day. a year ago today i was caught up in a storm from which i could not break free. it tore me up, hurt me, abused me, and ultimately broke me.
the beauty of this, however, was that once i realized i wanted to climb out of that hole, there was nowhere to go but up.
i have been working hard these past eight months to learn who i am — the good, the bad, and the ugly — and to figure out what was safe to keep, what needed to be fixed, and what needed to be thrown away. sort of a spiritual spring cleaning, if you will. as you can imagine, it’s not as easy as throwing out those tacky hand towels that aunt so and so gave you six years ago. instead, it requires that you strengthen parts of your soul and prune others. you begin to admit exactly who you are, and in the process, realize that it’s not all bad like you had feared, and that there is plenty of you to love.
and love yourself, you shall.
[UPDATE: Today is April 02, 2014 and I have added some annotations to make this relatively current.]
Every once in a while i get all introspective and sort of try to regroup. this has happened quite often with me these past eight months, since a huge part of my recovery is self-discovery. there are some things about me that will never change. other things will change, or already have changed drastically. i can honestly say that i feel like a completely different person today than i was a year ago. and i’m still learning, and therefore changing, every day. a year ago today i was caught up in a storm from which i could not break free. it tore me up, hurt me, abused me, and ultimately broke me.
the beauty of this, however, was that once i realized i wanted to climb out of that hole, there was nowhere to go but up.
i have been working hard these past eight months to learn who i am — the good, the bad, and the ugly — and to figure out what was safe to keep, what needed to be fixed, and what needed to be thrown away. sort of a spiritual spring cleaning, if you will. as you can imagine, it’s not as easy as throwing out those tacky hand towels that aunt so and so gave you six years ago. instead, it requires that you strengthen parts of your soul and prune others. you begin to admit exactly who you are, and in the process, realize that it’s not all bad like you had feared, and that there is plenty of you to love.
and love yourself, you shall.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Baby Storm and his/her looong-ass road ahead.
I came across an article on Yahoo News the other day titled “Parents Keep Child’s Gender Under Wraps.” Click through if you’d like to read it. Basically, the general gist is, this Canadian couple had a child whom they named Storm (who is now 4 months old) and they refuse to disclose the child’s gender to anyone other than the midwives who helped deliver the child, the child’s two brothers, and a close family friend. They were quoted as saying that their choice to not disclose his/her gender is “a tribute to freedom and choice in place of limitation, a stand up to what the world could become in Storm’s lifetime (a more progressive place? …),” and saying that their decision gives Storm the freedom to choose who he or she wants to be. The mother, a teacher at an alternative school, said “What we noticed is that parents make so many choices for their children. It’s obnoxious.”
They raise their other two boys (ages 5 and 2) with the same mindset, allowing them to choose clothing from both boys’ and girls’ sections of stores, and they are “unschooled” - a version of homeschooling which puts a child’s curiosity at the center of his or her education. Both wear pink and have long hair, and are frequently assumed to be girls - although the oldest chose not to attend a conventional school because of the questions about his gender, and has asked his mother to make sure other people know he’s a boy. When asked whether the confusion over his gender upsets him, he nodded yes.
Now. First of all, my disclaimer: I don’t believe that anyone who knows me can honestly say that I am in any way against gender equality and/or the right to sexual freedom. And I can totally see what the parents are TRYING to do, and what they’re TRYING to stand for. I don’t believe they are acting with any sort of malicious intent.
However. With that said:
I don’t feel like this is the best way to raise these children. What if, instead of “liberating” her children from the evils of assigned gender roles, she is in fact just confusing them about their sexuality or “portrayed” sexuality? What if, by encouraging them so much to “think outside the box,” they feel they’re expected to cross-dress or bend gender roles? In other words, what if, by encouraging them to choose clothing out of both the boys and girls sections, they feel they are required to? Her children are at an extremely delicate developmental stage right now. They are impressionable, and rely on mommy and daddy to make the best decisions for them in order for them to grow into well-adjusted adults.
I feel like a more appropriate course of action would be to not ask them to make choices one way or another, but to simply allow them to be whomever and whatever they want to be, and support them in their choices. If they want to wear girls’ clothing and choose activities normally enjoyed by the opposite sex, go for it! Don’t shoot them down, and encourage their choices. But that’s one thing - making them think that they want to when they’re too young to really know what they want is another - and it could be detrimental to their emotional and psychological development. I don’t believe there is anything inherently wrong with raising your girls as well-adjusted girls and allowing them freedom to make non-gender-specific choices. Same goes for boys, obviously. But I feel as though this mother goes so far out of the way to be “progressive” that she may be inadvertently forcing her children to behave in a way they don’t want to (which is exactly what she’s fighting against) but the worst part is, she’s expecting them to behave in a manner that can and probably will cause the child pain, suffering, and shame. You cannot force individuality, just like you cannot choose your gender any more than you can choose your sexual preference. I am talking, of course, about the older boys, not the baby Storm.
Storm will have his/her own problems when s/he realizes s/he has major issues with his/her sense of gender identity, which is psychologically considered essential to a fully integrated personality and a large part of a person’s self schema. To paraphrase one of the gay men who commented on this article, “So you want to change the world, fantastic. Good for you. Teach your children to be free thinkers, don’t use them as lab rats just to prove your point.” These children are TOO YOUNG to make educated decisions on such a complicated issue. Grown ADULTS have trouble making decisions like this.
I can see how this kind of upbringing would have been great for people who ended up having gender identity issues as an adult, but the problem is that this mother has no way of knowing if Storm or her boys would have developed such issues - they may be more common than society admits, but I’m not sure if they’re so common as to justify risking your kid like this. Now, instead of potentially clearing up the kid’s later gender-identity issues, the mother has likely caused a whole slew of them.
They raise their other two boys (ages 5 and 2) with the same mindset, allowing them to choose clothing from both boys’ and girls’ sections of stores, and they are “unschooled” - a version of homeschooling which puts a child’s curiosity at the center of his or her education. Both wear pink and have long hair, and are frequently assumed to be girls - although the oldest chose not to attend a conventional school because of the questions about his gender, and has asked his mother to make sure other people know he’s a boy. When asked whether the confusion over his gender upsets him, he nodded yes.
Now. First of all, my disclaimer: I don’t believe that anyone who knows me can honestly say that I am in any way against gender equality and/or the right to sexual freedom. And I can totally see what the parents are TRYING to do, and what they’re TRYING to stand for. I don’t believe they are acting with any sort of malicious intent.
However. With that said:
I don’t feel like this is the best way to raise these children. What if, instead of “liberating” her children from the evils of assigned gender roles, she is in fact just confusing them about their sexuality or “portrayed” sexuality? What if, by encouraging them so much to “think outside the box,” they feel they’re expected to cross-dress or bend gender roles? In other words, what if, by encouraging them to choose clothing out of both the boys and girls sections, they feel they are required to? Her children are at an extremely delicate developmental stage right now. They are impressionable, and rely on mommy and daddy to make the best decisions for them in order for them to grow into well-adjusted adults.
I feel like a more appropriate course of action would be to not ask them to make choices one way or another, but to simply allow them to be whomever and whatever they want to be, and support them in their choices. If they want to wear girls’ clothing and choose activities normally enjoyed by the opposite sex, go for it! Don’t shoot them down, and encourage their choices. But that’s one thing - making them think that they want to when they’re too young to really know what they want is another - and it could be detrimental to their emotional and psychological development. I don’t believe there is anything inherently wrong with raising your girls as well-adjusted girls and allowing them freedom to make non-gender-specific choices. Same goes for boys, obviously. But I feel as though this mother goes so far out of the way to be “progressive” that she may be inadvertently forcing her children to behave in a way they don’t want to (which is exactly what she’s fighting against) but the worst part is, she’s expecting them to behave in a manner that can and probably will cause the child pain, suffering, and shame. You cannot force individuality, just like you cannot choose your gender any more than you can choose your sexual preference. I am talking, of course, about the older boys, not the baby Storm.
Storm will have his/her own problems when s/he realizes s/he has major issues with his/her sense of gender identity, which is psychologically considered essential to a fully integrated personality and a large part of a person’s self schema. To paraphrase one of the gay men who commented on this article, “So you want to change the world, fantastic. Good for you. Teach your children to be free thinkers, don’t use them as lab rats just to prove your point.” These children are TOO YOUNG to make educated decisions on such a complicated issue. Grown ADULTS have trouble making decisions like this.
I can see how this kind of upbringing would have been great for people who ended up having gender identity issues as an adult, but the problem is that this mother has no way of knowing if Storm or her boys would have developed such issues - they may be more common than society admits, but I’m not sure if they’re so common as to justify risking your kid like this. Now, instead of potentially clearing up the kid’s later gender-identity issues, the mother has likely caused a whole slew of them.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
"tell me about a familiar experience that centers around emotion."
There’s nothing like it.
The muffled footsteps of people shuffling into their seats, the crackling of programs being explored. The smell of wood and dust and day-old coffee that lingers in the air - a sort of warehouse smell to which I’ve become so accustomed it almost feels like home. The lingering taste of the banana and vitamin water that has become tradition. All of a sudden I’m keenly aware of my every muscle, my every joint, the very air that enters my lungs. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The world around me has been reduced to the pounding heartbeat that seems to have taken over my whole body. I can feel my fingertips pulsating. I’m not scared, I’m not nervous - I’m ready. I want to get out there. I want to see what I can give today.
I feel alive.
A hush settles over the house and the lights dim. One more deep breath and then the click of my heels brings me out of my dark velvety cocoon and out into the open space where I am most vulnerable. I nestle into the curve of the piano, taking a moment to run my fingers over the dark wood lid, grounding me and pulling me closer to the music until I can feel it as much as hear it. Any leftover apprehension and doubt is carried away by the first few notes to envelop me.
The words that are the vessels for each floating note carry with them love, longing, sadness and joy. They carry me over and above myself until I no longer feel trapped by reality but surrounded by the beauty of Possibility. I am everyone who has ever felt anything before. I savor their passions and endure their fears, and in return I offer up my own soul. Everything I am, everything I could be, and everything I have been is on display, raw and naked. I have become pure emotion.
As the notes die down and I begin to fall back to reality, I gather up what’s left of me in an attempt to bring myself back down to earth. My pulse begins to race as I welcome the overwhelming rush and exhilaration of having thrown yourself to the wolves and survived. Trembling, I dip my head and lower myself in open gratitude, genuinely thankful for the reward of applause.
As my footsteps carry me back to the comforting thickness of heavy velvet curtains and darkness, I realize with a pang of disappointment that it’s all over - for now. Next time. I’ll be ready next time as well. After all…there really is nothing like it.
The muffled footsteps of people shuffling into their seats, the crackling of programs being explored. The smell of wood and dust and day-old coffee that lingers in the air - a sort of warehouse smell to which I’ve become so accustomed it almost feels like home. The lingering taste of the banana and vitamin water that has become tradition. All of a sudden I’m keenly aware of my every muscle, my every joint, the very air that enters my lungs. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The world around me has been reduced to the pounding heartbeat that seems to have taken over my whole body. I can feel my fingertips pulsating. I’m not scared, I’m not nervous - I’m ready. I want to get out there. I want to see what I can give today.
I feel alive.
A hush settles over the house and the lights dim. One more deep breath and then the click of my heels brings me out of my dark velvety cocoon and out into the open space where I am most vulnerable. I nestle into the curve of the piano, taking a moment to run my fingers over the dark wood lid, grounding me and pulling me closer to the music until I can feel it as much as hear it. Any leftover apprehension and doubt is carried away by the first few notes to envelop me.
The words that are the vessels for each floating note carry with them love, longing, sadness and joy. They carry me over and above myself until I no longer feel trapped by reality but surrounded by the beauty of Possibility. I am everyone who has ever felt anything before. I savor their passions and endure their fears, and in return I offer up my own soul. Everything I am, everything I could be, and everything I have been is on display, raw and naked. I have become pure emotion.
As the notes die down and I begin to fall back to reality, I gather up what’s left of me in an attempt to bring myself back down to earth. My pulse begins to race as I welcome the overwhelming rush and exhilaration of having thrown yourself to the wolves and survived. Trembling, I dip my head and lower myself in open gratitude, genuinely thankful for the reward of applause.
As my footsteps carry me back to the comforting thickness of heavy velvet curtains and darkness, I realize with a pang of disappointment that it’s all over - for now. Next time. I’ll be ready next time as well. After all…there really is nothing like it.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Story of my Life.
March 12, 2011. 12:37 AM. While completely sober, Cristina heads downstairs for a cup of Kool-Aid, which she brings to her room and promptly spills all over her bed. At this point, she isn’t even surprised at her clumsiness; in fact, she simply sighs dejectedly and trudges off in search of replacement sheets.
But what’s this? The self-deprecating acceptance of her clumsiness gives way to a new, somewhat unwelcome emotion when she realizes that, in a cruel twist which adds insult to injury, there is not enough left in the cup for her to take her evening medication. More must be procured, perhaps in a child’s sippy cup, or a sealed water bottle.
She heads back downstairs, annoyed and exhausted. Places the cup on the counter - so. Lifts the pitcher. Thinks twice, and lifts the cup. Determined not to make another mess, she slowly retreats back to her room, where, steadying the red plastic vessel with both hands, she drinks deeply without incident. Relieved, she places the cup on the desk opposite of her bed in order to minimize any more accidental toppling.
She crawls into bed and lets her hair out of its elastic band. As her jet-black curls tumble loose, she tosses the elastic aimlessly across the room, only to hear the faint click of elastic on plastic, and the sound of the cup tipping over, spilling its meager remains across the desktop.
The room is silent, save for her frustrated sighs. A moment passes, before we hear her turn over and go to sleep, mumbling only one audible phrase:
“Fuck. That. Shit.”
But what’s this? The self-deprecating acceptance of her clumsiness gives way to a new, somewhat unwelcome emotion when she realizes that, in a cruel twist which adds insult to injury, there is not enough left in the cup for her to take her evening medication. More must be procured, perhaps in a child’s sippy cup, or a sealed water bottle.
She heads back downstairs, annoyed and exhausted. Places the cup on the counter - so. Lifts the pitcher. Thinks twice, and lifts the cup. Determined not to make another mess, she slowly retreats back to her room, where, steadying the red plastic vessel with both hands, she drinks deeply without incident. Relieved, she places the cup on the desk opposite of her bed in order to minimize any more accidental toppling.
She crawls into bed and lets her hair out of its elastic band. As her jet-black curls tumble loose, she tosses the elastic aimlessly across the room, only to hear the faint click of elastic on plastic, and the sound of the cup tipping over, spilling its meager remains across the desktop.
The room is silent, save for her frustrated sighs. A moment passes, before we hear her turn over and go to sleep, mumbling only one audible phrase:
“Fuck. That. Shit.”
Thursday, March 10, 2011
vulnerability
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.
C. S. Lewis
C. S. Lewis
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)