"The more I learn about people, the more I like my dog"- Addressing an Ugly Trend and a Further Look into Why I Am the Way I Am

     Mark Twain couldn't have said it better. I used to be a "people person", but people kind of ruined it for me. No one is born scared, fear is learned from experiences. Hence why toddlers tend to be pretty fearless. We haven't been beaten up by life yet. Even as young kids, we dive off of high dives because we haven't fully learned the numerous ways in which we can be hurt.
     When I was a wee thing, as an only child, I was very affectionate towards the children I met in day school and early grade school, but I really didn't know how to act or treat them. I didn't understand personal space bubbles at all, and loved getting half an inch away from a classmate's face to have a conversation with them (which to me indicates that I didn't have Asperger's Syndrome as they thought, since I didn't mind eye contact back then). How does a child like that turn into a 26 year old woman whom barely likes being touched, avoids eye contact unless I really like the person, and while still enjoying social interaction (in a non-work related environment), needs copious amounts of solitude to recuperate and not snap? Well, quite a few things.
     I won't reiterate what's already been said, but I'll highlight a few things from past blogs in light of this topic. I learned how to act in Catholic school. I learned personal boundaries the old-fashioned way, and yes, fear was a huge part of that learning experience. Granted, it took MANY years of being shamed outside of school and being accused of being "lesbian" for giving my friends outside of school too many hugs. It wasn't until high school that I really learned how to behave in our modern society, by pushing a lot of buttons (which I think a lot of teenagers do) to see what's acceptable and what's not. Part of why I started my own bath and body product company, in all truth, is due to all the shame I received from being told I smell all the time in my freshman/sophomore year of high school. Sure, it was bullying and a lot of it was unwarranted, but at the same time, I read something recently that stated that kids learn how to behave through bullying, and to a certain extent, it's true, but like a lot of things in life, there's a line between what's helpful and what's harmful. As a whole, I think people get their rocks off from delving way into the harmful range. As someone who's been a bit of a demeaning and belittling bitch at times, I can say from experience that there is a rush that comes with giving people a taste of their own medicine. When it leads to someone harming themselves, though, that's when it's too much. So many people are quick to say that kids nowadays are wusses, but I highly disagree. I tend to think it's more of an issue of people not knowing when to stop. It's easy to see in every day life: people get alcohol poisoning because they don't know when to stop; people with eating disorders end up in the hospital because they don't know when they've fasted or binged enough; people egg each other on and get into fights that are recorded and put on Facebook for the world to see because of someone who keeps pushing buttons until they get punched, beaten with a lead pipe, etc. They say "everything in moderation", but moderation is a dying art form.
Anyway, back to the topic at hand. A lot of fear was instilled in me when it came to the world of dating. Suddenly, my tactile nature was mistaken for being horny, which in turn led to being pressured and nagged for sex relentlessly by my first boyfriend (I did not succumb and was rewarded for my close to 2 years of loyalty and better judgment with being cheated on with 5 people and broken up with right before our 2 year anniversary with "You should be happy that I've found someone better", "better" being this girl gave him fellatio 7 times a day), and of course, to other things (consensual and non-consensual) that I later regretted. Yes, I'm not afraid to admit that people took advantage of me, I daresay even call it rape. No, I don't think that entitles me to special treatment, unless expecting people to not say that I liked it and that I deserved it is somehow "special treatment". As someone whom was exposed to sexuality at a young age (involving "cybering" from age 12 on) and has been in 6 (or 7, depending on how generous I'm feeling with the term "relationship" that day) failed relationships, I can say with all honesty that I'm so very much jaded and tired of romance. Sure, sex is an instinct and it's still an itch that needs to be scratched occasionally, but unless I really like the person, why bother? Sure, I can feign affection, and occasionally really do feel it, especially if there's some "afterglow" euphoria going on, yet I don't feel the need for it 24/7 and 365 days a year. Anyway, that's all that needs to be said on this account for now.
     The absolute worst culprit, not surprisingly, is the one that brings the most hostility and stress: my past jobs. When I was still a fresh youngin' of 17, I got my first job working at Thule (you know, the Swedish bike rack and other sport-related car equipment company) in the recall section of their customer service division. I dealt with a lot of mean people, but since it was just a summer job, I was able to bounce back from it with no long term damage. I won't go off on a full tangent, but long story short, my last permanent job at a call center for a fancy fruit bouquet company was probably the most harrowing experience of my life. My experiences being homeless, raped, etc. pale in comparison to the unspeakable way customers treated the customer service reps at this company. I'd include having my life threatened on that list, but that happened at that job too. Who would think that working for a company based on fucking fruit would lead to so much ugliness? Well, same thing that makes a lot of people who work in toy stores too long turn into bitter misanthropes: money makes monsters out of people. If I were to tell you that a full grown man threatened to drive from Indiana (or Illinois, I forget) to Connecticut and shoot everyone in the call center I worked in like fish in a barrel, just because his grandfather's gift was late, you'd probably think it was a work of fiction. Sorry to disappoint, but that happened during the insanity known as Valentine's Day. One of my co-workers got a prescription for Klonopin from her doctor solely to get through Valentine's Day. It speaks volumes when people need to be doped up to keep their job. I, not being a huge fan of synthetic drugs, took the hit with nothing to numb myself, but after Valentine's Day, I had enough. I put in my resignation notice in March, said I would stay until after the Mother's Day rush, but as of May 15th, I would be gone regardless of whether I had another job or not. Some people would say this was foolish, and from an objective point of view it was, yet I look back on my Facebook statuses from back then and say, "Wow, I was a wretch, what possessed me to be like that?" My friends would try to be nice to me and I'd snap at them for little to nothing, and I really couldn't handle work stress on top of the usual stress of interacting with friends and family. It was also effecting my work horribly. I remember one time dealing with a particularly nasty customer in West Hartford, CT, and my blood was boiling so badly that I swear I saw red, and was memorizing her address, wanting to go to her house and slash her tires after my shift. It took a lot of will power to calm my rage and settle down, but I ended up just taking this rage out on myself in the form of drinking myself to sleep on many occasions. I spent the rest of that year trying to heal. I went to a spiritual (mostly Wiccan) camping retreat immediately after I quit my job, and most people there probably couldn't stand me because I hid in my tent and cried most of the time. This sounds like paranoia, but a (at the time) friend confirmed this when his roommate who went to the retreat went from thinking I'm okay to really disliking me and saying how annoying I am after the retreat. It was when I got my seasonal job at Lush Cosmetics in my local mall that I realized how far I had fallen, when I was unceremoniously fired on Black Friday for being "too nervous and making the customers uncomfortable". I walked out of the store, found a quiet spot to sit, and didn't cry or anything...I just went kind of catatonic, staring at the people scurrying around, energetically going about their Christmas shopping, totally oblivious to anything but their own joyous tunnel vision. That's when it hit me: I didn't trust anyone. I felt so many people wanted to harm me, even family and friends. There was no place for me in this world. I wanted to die more than ever, or at least in the words of Mystery Skulls, this time I just wanted to disappear.
     Now, to tie this ramble in with my original topic: Why I like animals more than people and can't stand when others belittle this, and alternately, why people whom prefer animals over people shouldn't be asshats and give us a bad name. Well, to put it succinctly, animals are innocent. Sure, they can be aggressive, sure, they can be smelly, sure, some can potentially kill us, but they do what they do for simple reasons: survival. They don't have nearly as many complications in their psyche as we do. They don't have ulterior motives (except when pets are affectionate for food, but that's a learned behavior from being around people, and animals in the wild have no reason to be like that) and do a lot of what they do for survival. So, like with babies and children, they don't deserve a lot of abuse that they oftentimes get. As I mentioned in my blog about being a furry, when you've been so poorly treated by most people, or are socially awkward and can't relate to a lot of people, how is it so hard to accept that you might just like anything that's not human a lot more? I guess there are many more resilient people than I am. I really don't understand how someone can work for years and not die of liver cirrhosis from drinking oneself to sleep every night, yet there are people who get up every day and do it. I don't get how people can get raped, beaten, etc. and still go on and be in other relationships. I really don't get how people in the medical field can deal with the worst of humanity, like aggressive pill poppers needing a fix, and still value human life (yes, this happened to me and I promptly decided I probably wasn't cut out to be a Medical Assistant, too bad I realized this after paying $17,000 for a course of study that's not even paid me back for that). I take a similar stance to my wonderful former fruit customers who ended their calls with, "IF I CAN'T GET CONSISTENCY AND TRUST THE OUTCOME, I JUST WON'T EVER ORDER FROM YOU PEOPLE AGAIN!" Why is it so easy so completely shut delicious fruit out of one's life, yet so hard to understand when someone does this with major life decisions, be it romance, children, or life in general? I guess that's yet another question I have that has no clear answer.
     Do I hate all people? No, I've become very picky about whom I like and spend time with, though. I'll still be kind and decent to people unless they give me a reason to be a bitch to them (which a lot of people do with their driving). Society as a whole makes me want to do what I've said I want to do before, by going off and living in the woods. Unfortunately, living that way can lead to John Candless-style tragedies (see/read Into the Wild for more reference), so I cope the way I can. Since I'm in no position to go back to school to become a Veterinary Technician/Assistant, I've decided to volunteer with the Humane Society and have started my own small bath and body business, especially since my awkwardness and lack of long term job experience makes me no employer's top pick to hire. There are lots of times that I just stay home, not see friends, do chores and clean a house that resists being tidy, care for my cantankerous and dementia-ridden old grandmother, argue with my mom about why I do not want a husband or children and hear about how this is ruining all the dreams she had for me (which, ironically, back when I did want these things and took measures to make them happen, I was still ruining her dreams because she didn't approve of my choices of whom I wanted to be with), blog or make bath bombs and other doo-dads, and listen to Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, CinnamonToastKen, and other Youtubers on a regular basis. That's on a productive day. Even online, I try to keep to myself and not cause a stir, but sometimes I get roped into drama, which of course is to be expected when dealing with people.
     I thought people whom I consider friends knew this about me, and knew better than to try to make me feel ridiculed for being this way, but yet there's an ugly little trend that's happening with people taunting those whom are against hunting, prefer animals over people, etc. This really isn't cool. For the record: I am okay with guns and hunting when it's for food. I am deeply upset when people kill and torture animals just for shits and giggles. It's sick. The whole "keeping populations in control" thing is a very touchy issue and I'm not an expert, so I'll refrain from commenting and just keep signing petitions to protect wildlife and thank goodness that I live in a fairly enlightened state when it comes to environmental matters. I don't like PETA because PETA's extremists are more revolting than the people they protest. I am not a vegetarian for many reasons. However, I have never once killed anything intentionally, except maybe for some mosquitoes, fleas, and other deleterious pests. However, as I said before, I will never belittle human lives in the face of tragedy. You'll never hear me tell a 9/11 joke because I lost a cousin in 9/11. I disagree vehemently with the Twitter post where some twit says that the tragedy that happened in Paris yesterday is not a big deal because people kill billions of animals annually and no one is making an issue of that. People like that have their heart in the right place, but for crying out loud, do not belittle one life to say that the one you prefer is more valuable. It won't change anyone's mind and since many people are mourning and people aren't always rational during times of grief, they will shut out everything you say and will probably attack you. Knowing when it's appropriate to say things part of another another dying art form known as tact.
      In conclusion, even if you can't trust people, or you don't like what someone is saying, at least try to be respectful. Sometimes being respectful is as easy as keeping your mouth shut. Don't confuse respect for cowardice. Gandhi once said that non-violence is sometimes the most courageous thing a person can do. At the risk of sounding trite, the world would be a better place if people could just take all of this into account, maybe then I'd be updating my Etsy and searching for dessert items in my house, as opposed to worrying about the world's problems in this blog.

     

Between Grief and Fear: Some thoughts after watching Fran Bow *WARNING: SPOILERS!*

     I'll address the elephant in the room first: Why did I watch a playthrough of Fran Bow instead of just playing it myself on Steam? Well, it's simple, really. My netbook has a hard time with Steam, so even if I had the $15 to buy Fran Bow, I wouldn't be able to play it.
     So, like with most games, I opted to watch a Let's Plays of it. I watched Jacksepticeye's playthrough, since he's a lively player and gives decent commentary. Yes, I know CinnamonToastKen did a playthrough for Fran Bow as well, but as much as I like Kenpai, I don't think I could stay awake during a lengthy game series with the Bob Ross of video gaming as the narrator. I prefer him for short games like Boiling OSSAN Eggs and Crazy Hangover parts 1 and 2.
     Anyway, I usually am left indifferent with a lot of games that YouTubers play, but Fran Bow is definitely one of the exceptions. From the moment I saw Markiplier play the demo, I was hooked. It wasn't a jumpscare fest or a run of the mill shoot-em-up testosterone fest for sure. I was even more excited when I found out that it became a full length game! However, things got a lot more twisted and surreal in the full game.
     For those who don't know, Fran Bow is a point-and-click style adventure game about a little girl whose parents are mysteriously and brutally murdered and she escapes her house only to end up in a mental asylum. The game details her journey to escape the asylum and find her beloved cat, Mr. Midnight.
     Firstly, I love the story. It is dark and at times fairly gruesome (I've read some reviews that grossly exaggerate the nature of the imagery. It's absolutely mild compared to most horror movies. At least the horrific imagery has a purpose, and isn't just for shits and giggles like in pretty much every Tarantino film!), but it is also incredibly cute and whimsical. If I had to compare it to something else...and I really cannot believe I'm making this comparison...I would say it's like a love child between the movies Coraline and Suckerpunch. Now, this may seem like an outlandish comparison, but I have my reasons for drawing these parallels. It has the "young girl in an extraordinary circumstance that gets herself through life-destroying changes by using her imagination" theme that Suckerpunch has, along with the whimsical imagery and the blurred lines between imagination and reality that Coraline has.
     The art style is also very adorable, just like in Coraline. Fran is a lot more polite, meek, and mild than Coraline, but she is still brave. There are also many references to Alice in Wonderland in the game, which only adds to the trippy atmosphere. I also enjoy the steampunk touches in the game, combining a bygone era (if I recall correctly, Fran Bow takes place in the 1930's/1940's) with bizarre technology, creating what is in some parts almost like an homage to Terry Gilliam, The Neverending Story (I swear, Palontras could very well be Falcor's cousin), and other fantasy books/films. As another review explained, the children's storybook whimsy makes the horror all the more striking in contrast, since you're seeing it from the innocent perspective of a child.
     The most engrossing part is probably the suspense of the Who Dunnit. Fran Bow weaves an intricate web, one so convoluted that the lines between "reality" and the other parallel dimensions blur together very well. I was literally on the edge of my seat when I watched the final episode and saw the absolutely bizarre ending. *SPOILERS GALORE PAST THIS POINT!* The ending is very much open to interpretation, and here is mine:
     I don't think Fran killed her parents, at least not intentionally. I think that demon guy (whose name escapes me but Jack refers to him as "the Lamia demon") may have possessed her, since it's said a few times over the course of the game that he is her weakness. I definitely think that Fran passes within alternate realities and I don't think she's actually insane. She does have a vivid imagination, yet I don't think she could have cooked up something as incredible as Ithersta, since Ithersta is a highly developed world and unlike in stories like Labyrinth, it doesn't seem based on anything she could have read elsewhere. I think Fran is able to fluidly go between these realities not just because of the red pills that she took, but also because she is a child and hasn't been beaten down, so to speak, and lost the curiosity and wonder that so many of us have when we're young. Some people might see the ending as Fran either dying or fully snapping and losing any shred of sanity that she had, but in a game where the wisest character says that death is only what happens when you have no love, it's hard to say for sure. I'm just glad that Fran and Mr. Midnight go back to Ithersta and live happily ever after, because once that plotline about Aunt Grace and the doctor who owned the asylum being in cahoots came into play, I didn't want her to stay in a reality where (as mentioned by the creatures in Ithersta) she is considered dead and really has nothing there for her. In the closing scene, Fran says, "Between grief and fear, there is happiness. I choose happiness", and really, after seeing her parents' bodies butchered on their bedroom floor, losing her beloved cat at least half a dozen times, and traveling to 4 other dimensions, who could begrudge Fran some happiness? In many ways, I really do consider Fran Bow to be the epitome of the perfect cinnamon roll, too pure, too good for this world.
     In conclusion, I think it's probably for the best that the creator of this game left the ending so open to interpretation. This way, people can take from it whatever they want. The more cynical and logical people can say that it's a morality story about how living in a fantasy world is detrimental after the death of a loved one and an example of how far we've come in psychotherapy from the days of lobotomies and abusive asylums (though I think Duotine and the red pills that turned out to not be Duotine after all are probably a lot safer than some of the psych drugs that are out there now, which isn't saying much). Other people with more of a whimsical, spiritual, and sensitive nature will appreciate Fran's never-ending sense of wonder, and how instead of being horrified at everything like most people would be, she just sees everything as odd and charming, or just dismisses stuff as bizarre. Her creative streak is also a lot of fun to watch, which I can tell enriches the puzzle solving parts of the game.
     Even though I haven't played it, I would highly recommend it, and may even play it myself some time in the future.

   
     

Lonely Two-Legged People: A Ramble about Love

     There is so much that's already been said about love that I am almost afraid that I'll be super cliched in this blog, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.
     Since Platonic love is a separate issue and will only complicate this entry, I'll stick to discussing romantic love. So...what is love? (Yes, cue the bobbing heads and 90's techno beat.) Well, it's a lot of things to a lot of people. According to the 2005 movie Casanova, love is the weather being good, because rain is just another kind of good weather; according to the movie Hedwig and the Angry Inch's song "Origin of Love", from where I got part of my title, love is the result of some weird story about Zeus cutting people in half so that instead of being two people in one, we're individual people looking for the other half that we lost; and according to dictionary.com, love as a noun is defined as:

1.

a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

2.

a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.

3.

sexual passion or desire.

4.

a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.

5.

(used in direct address as a term of endearment,affection, or the like):

Would you like to see a movie, love?

6.

a love affair; an intensely amorous incident;amour.

7.

sexual intercourse; copulation.

     Well, from my perspective, romantic love is a kind of foreign concept. I often doubt that I have ever loved and doubt that I am capable of it. Part of it might be that people constantly belittle and degrade my past romantic relationships (myself included) so I've got this notion of "You haven't really been in a real relationship" ingrained in my head, but I really don't agree with that. Not to honk my own horn, but I've been through some things that people may go their entire lives and not have to endure. I've had to choose between the person I love and my family on quite a few occasions. I've cared for those I've been with in sickness and in health. I've financially supported my beloved ones. I've been the "man" and the "woman" in relationships. If actions do indeed speak louder than words, then I suppose it's very possible that I have loved.
     I believe I really was in love with my first boyfriend, whom was also my longest relationship (age 14 to age 16). I really believed that he was the only one for me and that if I ever broke up with him, no one else would ever want me. Whether he returned the sentiment, I'm not sure. In retrospect, his main focus seemed to be sex. Not surprising for our age, and since his cheating (5 times) and my unwillingness to have sex with him was one of his main points for breaking up with me, I guess his libido overruled his feelings. It's bittersweet to think that often maligned "puppy love" can be far more genuine than mature love. To me, it makes sense. When you've got emotional baggage and all sorts of misgivings and a chequered past, how can you honestly claim to love with your whole heart?

     With my second and third relationship, they were very short and I'll chalk the second up to a summer fling (as much as it burns me to do so since I was so dedicated to this boyfriend and he was good to me) and the third as a one night stand. The fourth is a long, arduous story about which I could write an entire blog unto itself, but I can safely say there was some love involved at some point. The fifth was fairly innocent but I think it was based more on mild infatuation than actual love. The sixth was a torrid affair (it's debatable how much love there actually was) that I thankfully ended before it caused as much damage as the fourth, and last but never the least, the seventh was incredible and devastating at the same time. The seventh showed me how much I could love, but at the same time it's rendered me a shell of whom I used to be, and honestly, I don't want to return to how I used to be very much because it's that person whom got me into the mess in the first place. In retrospect, the sixth and the seventh, and definitely the fourth,probably would have been infinitely better as casual flings instead of full-fledged relationships.
     Most days, I find it a miracle when any two people can effectively communicate and interact. When two people can get along well enough to be in a relationship for any period of time, it's just plain mindblowing. 

     A lot of people seem incapable of understanding why I'm so jaded when it comes to the topic of love. Some might trace it back to my parents' marriage, which ended in 1997 when my parents divorced. Some might say it's because my parents were infinitely better friends than lovers. Some might say it's been my own tumultuous relationships. Some might say it's because I witnessed countless friends whose lives have been turned upside down, and in some cases nearly ruined, by tainted love. I'm sure those things helped shape my particular view, but it's hard to say what the root of the cause is.
     Some things I've experienced I feel are fairly universal: Love is becoming open and vulnerable to new things, whether good or bad. Love is a lot of the things listed in that Bible quote that has become a wedding cliche. Love is pain. Can I say with certainty that the good outweighs the bad when it comes to love? Absolutely not. This is very much an opened ended issue and probably should be taken case by case.
     On an unrelated note, I will say that love at first sight is a funny notion. I tend to agree with the thinking that it's actually lust at first sight, since we cannot possibly know everything about a person in one glance, no matter how good we are at reading people. I tend not to believe in it, but then it happens to me because Irony seems to get a lot of amusement out of messing with me. I met a very talented young man this weekend and couldn't help but be drawn to the beautiful words that flowed from his mouth and the stunning images that emerged from his hands. He's also happily married and I can safely say that I'm not his type. I'd be lying if I said this was the first time I've been in a situation like this, so I'll just contentedly be a fan of his and not waste my time with foolishly longing for an embrace I may or may not get again, a kiss that I know will never come to pass, and other fantasies that will do nothing but poison my mind.
     Are there other, better fish in the sea? Of course. Whether my fishing lure is in any condition to try to catch them is another issue entirely. I have a couple of fish in nearby waters that seem to like my company, but I can't promise that they'll lead to anything, so again, I'll just take it one day at a time and see where life leads me.

     I'm not sure how to wrap this up except to say that I welcome any and all input in the comment section. I haven't gotten any comments on my blogs and I would really love some. Thank you for reading and I hope to write more soon, especially when I'm not in a brain fog like I am right now.

The Animal in Me- Yeah, I'm a furry, so what?

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Name Change

     Hello, my dear readers. I just wanted to take a moment to explain that I've changed the title of my blog because after a random Google search one day, I learned that there was another blog on Blogger called Humble Observations. Plus, it didn't quite feel right to me. Sure, I value humility and wish to be an observer in this world, like Annie Dillard, but I think Candy Coated Cranium suits me much more. Anyone else think it's cute? :)
     Anyway, I've been a bit slow with this blog because I have so much to write about but am not sure what to talk about first. I had a really horrible day when it came to interacting with my grandmother, and I was going to write a blog about her and my experience helping my mom deal with her hoard, but I just got too angry while writing it and saved it as a draft for now. Maybe when I'm calmer I'll go back and finish it, but for now, it's much more beneficial to my well being and happiness to just not acknowledge her existence.
     Hopefully today won't be too much of a set back. I would really hate to lose my writing muse. I've already lost my musical muse...but that's another story for another day.

How Can I Practice Self-Love When Love Is Needed Elsewhere?: Reflections after watching St. Francis of Assisi

     I would like to state, before I say anything else, that I do not wish to sway, or change anyone's opinions or beliefs with this post. Believe what is real to you. All I am here to do is express what I have learned and share it with all of you. If you have not head of St. Francis of Assisi, here are some links to give you some knowledge, so you can better understand my blog:

1961 movie that I just watched about his life: https://youtu.be/rG5jVcYA1aM
In all honesty, I didn't like it as much as Brother Sun, Sister Moon, but it's still a lot more comprehensive in many ways than Brother Sun, Sister Moon.
Wikipedia article about St. Francis of Assisi: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_of_Assisi
     As I mentioned before, I spent 8 years of my life in a traditional Catholic school. My story of how I got there is an unusual one. When I entered first grade, it was at Johnson Academy in Stratford, CT. My memory of this time is a bit fuzzy, but long story short, I did not belong. I was a strange child, with a vivid imagination and I did not like the structure of school. I could barely read or write and I remember my mind being like static, unable to comprehend a good bit, permanently off in my own world. Recently my mom came across my disciplinary file from back then and it was not only a good laugh, but a wealth of knowledge. I seem to have been a very spirited creature (yes, creature is probably the best word for my younger self) and was pretty much a real life cartoon character (which I'll admit that at times, I still very much am). If the class was doing a project that I didn't like, I simply did not do it and barked like a dog all throughout class. Apparently, a child psychiatrist whom the school sent me to go see thought I had Asperger's Syndrome and ADHD, and as with most children in my generation, they wanted me to go on Ritalin. My mom put her foot down, already being furious with my father for allowing them to put me in special ed, and wanted me to go to another school where I could learn without being scrutinized like a lab experiment. However, most private schools, Catholic or otherwise, were well outside of their price range. My grandmother whom I call Lulu, the one who's a hoarder, did one of the only decent things she's ever done by me in my entire 26 years on this planet. She had taken note of a school in Monroe, CT: A very small one, ran out of the basement of a traditional Catholic church, with only 50 students at most (the numbers dwindled through the years). She told my mom that the nuns who ran it were very old fashioned, still wearing the full habits (No laymen's clothing or sheer veils for them!)and seemed very nice. So, my parents and I checked it out. Mind you, I was 6 years old and had never seen a nun in my life at this point, but I think I probably put my best foot forward and introduced myself to the mother superior, saying something to the effect of, "Hello, my name is Ariana Mucci and my favorite color is pink!" The whole concept was foreign to me, and I remember asking my parents if it would be a boarding school, like in The Little Princess(I related everything to what I had seen in movies, since I lacked interaction with other children in my age group. This probably is from where my tendency to relate things to pop culture stemmed)to which she assured me that it was not.
     I would be lying if I said that I took to Catholic school, and the Catholic faith in general, like a duck to water. While I liked that I finally found out to whom the lady in the creche scene is, I didn't like that church was an hour longer than it was at our Advent Christian church, and I really didn't like that children were expected to be present all through the Mass. This was a great departure from being taken out halfway through and brought into the "Sunday school" room and fed doughnuts. I also hated my ugly, scratchy uniform and didn't care much for my first grade teacher, a nun named Sister Mary Rose. She wasn't the worst, but still would accuse me of doing things that I did not do and sometimes I felt she was more heavy-handed with me than with other children, since I didn't come from a family of 16 or been praying the Rosary since fetushood.
     I'd like to interject right here, before I forget, that when I say "traditional Catholic", I'm referring to the form of Catholicism that was universal before the reforms that happened in the Second Vatican Council in the 1960's. I've been to the modern Catholic Mass, and while I find comfort in being around anyone who loves God and Jesus, I find the ceremony itself annoying as hell. Excuse my frankness, but I really dislike acknowledging the other parish members as a part of the Mass (you know, that Handshake of Peace thing...it makes my skin crawl)not to mention after many years of slowly but surely learning and understanding Latin, it kind of feels chintzy to hear the entire Mass in English. Some people like the changes and I respect their opinions, however, I will be sticking with the old ways myself.
     Back to the story of St. Dominic's Academy. While I can't say that it was all peaches and cream, in fact, some memories are American Horror Story: Asylum-esque to put it nicely. I still look back on some parts of those days with a great bit of nostalgia. If it was all bad, I wouldn't be teary-eyed as I write this. For every instance of hatred and discrimination aimed at me, there were many more instances of God's endless mercy shown to me. In general, I think back far more fondly on the priests that I've met than the nuns that I've met (hence why I bristle so much when people try making every priest out to be a pedophile).
     I've been told many times, whether by friends or lovers, that I am "too intelligent to be a Catholic". To me, there is no greater insult. Just because I love God does not mean that I cannot appreciate the marvels of science and the world around me. I appreciate other creeds and paths of life as well. Heck, I once went on a 4 day camping retreat with 99.9% Wiccan/Pagan individuals during a time in my life when I was feeling very vulnerable and in great need of healing. I listened to what they said, I received tarot and crystal ball readings, etc. and in a way, it was beneficial, but I did not feel the cool, sweet wave of being one with God, the Universe, all that is good that I get when I am kneeling at Mass, breathing in the frankincense, and meditating upon what I can do to give back to the Creator for all He has given to me. I did not get the same sense of wonder in those woods and in the drumming circle around the campfire that I got when I traveled to the Shrine of the North American Martyrs in Auriesville, NY, where much blood was shed and lives were sacrificed. (Actually, in retrospect, it's kind of awkward that I felt such a feeling of peace there, since I do have much respect and admiration for Native American culture, but at the same time I understand things from the perspective of the missionaries as well.)I'm not belittling the path of Wicca, or any other faith, by any means, as I see quite a bit of truth in that path as well, just saying that the belief system that gives me the most sense of purpose and peace is the one that dates all the way back to Christ Himself, taught by St. Francis of Assisi as well. I especially love St. Francis because of his love of animals. Since I used to be a people person, but people kind of ruined it for me, I've grown disillusioned from the greedy, corrupt, and downright depressing society that mankind allows itself to be enslaved to, and I wish in many ways that I could be a part of wildlife or a Catholic Hobbit (yes, I'm aware that such a group of people exist), where I can live in a society that lives in harmony with Nature, while still worshiping the way I have all along. Sometimes, I even wish I could be a hermit, and only have to interact with people if I so wish, and just live secluded in a little cabin with lots and lots of animals. Unfortunately, because of mankind's greed and lust for control, it's looking more and more impossible to be able to do this without being a millionaire already, which kind of defeats the purpose. I can't just cast off all my earthly belongings and go live in the woods or the outskirts of town, because the infernal state owns the woods and the outskirts of town is yet another friggin town. However, if I've learned nothing else from Catholic school, it's that where there is a will, there is a way, and maybe, somehow I will be able to fulfill my dream, the only thing I've ever wished for myself, of living a peaceful and preferably solitary life, caring for unwanted animals and giving them a happy home until they are adopted.
     This brings me to the topic in the title: Self-love and how I've always struggled to wrap my mind around this concept.
     It's hard nowadays to be able to eat, breathe, or fart in peace without hearing someone tell me or someone else, "YOU GOTTA LOVE YOURSELF!" and RuPaul's classic line, "If you can't love yourself, how the hell you gonna love anybody else?"
     Okay, let's put aside the obvious implications that arise from the dirtiest part of my mind involving Hitachi massagers and ask this: What the does it mean to love yourself and how it is accomplished? I got so tired of hearing this that I decided to Google it one day. I came across a wealth of information, most of which sounded like the cheesy self-esteem class from that one episode of Daria, until I settled on a few articles written about self-love from the perspective of the One Great Commandment that summarizes all of the Ten Commandments: "Love Thy Neighbor as Thyself". If I can find the article, I'll post it in a comment to this blog. The author explained that Christians as a whole are taught to treat each other how they want to be treated, but not a lot of emphasis is put on how to treat oneself. The author also went on about how loving oneself basically means letting go of the past, not comparing oneself to others, and other misery-making habits. I saw a lot of merit in the article, but still, something about it wasn't sitting too well with me, so I did a lot of soul searching and contemplation about another concept that I was raised with: humility.
     Humility, as defined by dictionary.com, is defined as: "the quality or condition of being humble; modestopinion or estimate of one's own importance, rank,etc."

      That's a nice, concise definition, but I tend to like this definition, using Bible references, a little more: a prominent Christian grace (Rom. 12:3; 15:17, 18; 1 Cor. 3:5-7; 2 Cor. 3:5; Phil. 4:11-13). It is a state of mind well pleasing to God (1 Pet. 3:4); it preserves the soul in tranquillity (Ps. 69:32, 33), and makes us patient under trials (Job 1:22). Christ has set us an example of humility (Phil. 2:68). We should be led thereto by a remembrance of our sins (Lam. 3:39), and by the thought that it is the way to honour (Prov.16:18), and that the greatest promises are made to the humble (Ps. 147:6; Isa. 57:15; 66:2; 1 Pet. 5:5).It is a "great paradox in Christianity that it makes humility the avenue to glory."

     I honestly don't think I have the authority to say one way or another if self-love can coexist with humility, so suffice to say that this very subject is something I'll leave up to individual interpretation. All that I know for certain is that I myself have sinned and am flawed. To me, the idea of self-love is kind of "resting on one's laurels" and it makes self-improvement much harder when one is full of pride as is. Like in the prayer of St. Francis, I get a lot more of a feeling of accomplishment not out of glorifying myself, but out of doing what I feel is right, using my discerning abilities and moral compass. Yes, I understand that what may seem right to me may seem completely wrong to someone else, but that's where the concept of belief comes in. Yes, I know there are people like Carl Sagan whom are famous for saying, "I don't want to believe, I want to know", but that leads me to another point. When Carl Sagan was a young boy, do you think he knew from the get-go that he was going to be an astrophysicist, or do you think maybe he became that because he believed he could? So, yes, even the most logical of people have to believe in the unknown. 
     When it comes to just lil' ol' me, I tend to think that humility is what drives me to do good and accomplish things. No, I'm not trying to say I'm the most humble person ever, just saying it is that drives me. Yes, I'm kind of crazy. Yes, I've made some huge mistakes. Yes, I get severely depressed and feel like I'm never going to accomplish anything and want to shitcan everything. Yes, I get nihilistic and feel like the world would be the same, or even better, if I were to never have existed. However, it's these things that motivate me to do good to others, especially the most helpless of God's creatures. A lot of people (like immediate family members) try to dissuade me from doing charitable things to others and to focus on my family and myself, and to which I kind of have to point out that if they didn't want me to be like this, then maybe sending me to Catholic school where I learned about the lives of saints who pissed their husbands off by bringing lepers into their royal bed (St. Elizabeth of Hungary), and even like St. Francis, left their families to go pursue their own God-given path. That didn't mean that they didn't love or care about their family members, no matter how mad their families were about their life choices. St. Catherine of Sienna, for example, is said to have gone through unspeakable pain and torture by willingly taking on some of her father's Purgatory sentence.
     Well, I think I've come to the winding down point where I have to make a cohesive whole out of this ramble. Self-love might be well and fine for some people, but for me, loving yourself when you feel you've done nothing to merit this love is just empty. I see St. Francis of Assisi, a man who is wise, holier, and admirable, and I see no self-love in him. Was he without love though? Absolutely not. So...sorry, RuPaul, but I'm going to have to agree to disagree with you on this one. If you love people, regardless of whether they love you or whether you'll get anything in return, then you might just realize that being selfless is its own reward. I look at my life and see many instances where someone was only kind because it was a means to an end and then there is no question in my mind about why so many people have trust issues. This goes back to what I've said in past entries where I compare and contrast the "Lone Wolf" lifestyle that so many people are taught vs. the "Wolf Pack" lifestyle of helping one another rather than trampling all over each other to get ahead. Instead of bitching and moaning about what a dark, cruel place the world is, why not try to change it by being a good example, like St. Francis did. The best part is, you don't need to be a saint to do it either.To all those people, regardless of creed or social standing, who take it upon themselves to practice random acts of kindness and ask nothing in return, good on you, keep it up! :)