Tuesday, October 20, 2015
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.
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.
Friday, October 16, 2015
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."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."
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! :)
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Is Growing Up Literally the Worst Thing Ever? - Thoughts after Seeing Pan
As a self-proclaimed "woman-child", it's probably easy to imagine how much I squeed yesterday when I saw Pan with a friend. Even though I was much more into the princess and talking animal/anthropomorphic Disney movies as a wee Ari, I still thoroughly enjoyed the Peter Pan Disney cartoon, and even really liked Hook (With the beloved Robin Williams *RIP*, Rufio's badassery, and the funny boy who could roll himself up into a human bowling ball, what's not to love?!). I'll try to refrain from spoilers, while trying not to launch into a full blown movie review (as much as I love reviewing things).
This new spin on an old classic seemed promising, very much like Maleficent, and in that respect, I was correct. This movie was a lot like Maleficent, though it was much more upbeat than Maleficent and I cried a lot less during this movie (until the end) but that's another story for another entry. There were a few decisions made that I didn't necessarily like, such as the decision to incorporate modern songs into a movie that's supposed to take place ages before Nirvana, The Ramones, etc. although I will say that the inclusion of Blitzkrieg Bop made sense in a way, since Pan takes place during WWII. When it comes to this fairly unanimous pet peeve, I will concede that it was a lot less obnoxious than in movies like Moulin Rouge and Book of Life.
The story of Peter Pan is definitely thought provoking and Pan is no exception. Like most fairy tales, it's watered down from the original tale that was supposed to be dark and gruesome at times. Some people find it a little disconcerting to change a character who is childlike yet a psychotic serial killer into an archetype of sorts for youth and everyone's inner child. Even when it comes to psychology, they've coined the term "Peter Pan Syndrome" when there's an adult who doesn't want to grow up. This leads me back to the subject at hand: Is growing up the worst thing ever?
There is no easy answer for this. In this modern world, and with the way things are, childhood can be easily squelched before it has run its course. I'm not going to go full Ned Flanders and say that we should live in a quasi-Utopian village based entirely upon Berta Hummel figurines in order to protect childhood innocence, but I also don't want to go to the extremes that I've heard some people express how they feel that children should be exposed to sex, violence, and all the depravity of the world as soon as possible. One of my ex-boyfriends and I used to get into horrific fights about how we wanted to raise our children if we had them. He felt that childhood innocence was just sugar-coating ignorance and he was a firm believer that ignorance was not bliss and that it was a plague that should be exterminated at all costs. Another ex-significant other of mine felt that children are fully capable of having a fulfilling sex life, another notion that made my mind get a figurative Blue Screen of Death and made my nervous system want to run out of my body like a frightened Chihuahua, it was that unnerving to me. Frankly, I believe there should be a happy medium (And for crying out loud, I firmly believe sex shouldn't even be a concern until puberty, because life if complicated enough without throwing that mess into it when you're trying to learn basic things like your ABC's and how to cross the road without getting turned into road pizza). Sheltering kids the way that conservative folks like CWA (Concerned Women for America) want us to do could have just as much negative backlash as sitting little Timmy down and having him watch the Playboy channel, Quentin Tarantino movies, and Requiem for a Dream back to back. Every child is different, as every person and creature is different, but I feel that in general, since a child's brain is still developing, they shouldn't be overwhelmed with things they cannot fully comprehend. Not to mention opinions like my ex-significant others' are coming from the perspective of well-seasoned adults, and as adults, it's hard for us to be able to remember and relate to things from when we were children. As Blackbeard, the character in Pan who's kind of a precursor to Captain Hook, points out, childhood isn't all peaches and cream. Childhood has its own set of problems, but once we are introduced to the grown up world of taxes, bills, child support, etc., the childhood problems look so small in comparison. For example: I remember a particular incident from when I was a member of an...err...specialty forum...around age 15, maybe 16. Granted, I was a very precocious and mature 15 year old whom physically and mentally could pass as at least 18, but I still had the problems of a 15 year old and had to try to cope with the stress from these issues, which at times made me a snotty little bitch. One of the female admins on this forum, a very nice but somewhat stern 36 year old woman named Tina, was actually nice enough to reach out and ask me what was wrong. She noticed that I had gone from being mature and witty to scathing, moody, and acting my age, which made the fellow forum members very annoyed. I don't remember exactly what was wrong at the time, but I'm sure it was family issues, high school issues, or boyfriend issues. Being a 36 year old woman, she tried to be sympathetic as much as possible, but flat out said, "I'm sorry, but when I think back to that point in my life, my problems then seem so insignificant and minuscule compared to my problems now". This was fairly disappointing and made me feel kind of small and insignificant. As a result, I've always tried to not belittle the problems of others, regardless of age or predicament. One of the best ways to overcome and cope with grief that I have found is to not try to measure your grief like a penis, and definitely not try to have a pissing contest over whose grief is the worst. After all, even if you do have the most grief and you can, without blinking an eye, go up to (for instance) Jesus Christ, hanging bloody, beaten, and dying on the cross and say, "Suck it up, buttercup, I have it worse than you do!" what really is that going to accomplish or prove? There is no trophy or award for having the most grief. It suffices to say we all have problems. Some people like the Lone Wolf approach of, "No one can fix your problems but you", which holds true, but I also like pointing out that people who work together can accomplish things faster and easier, solving a multitude of problems in the process. True cooperation is a rare and beautiful thing.
Now that we have gone over childhood innocence and relating to children, I'd like to point out some ways in which growing up, is indeed, a necessary evil that's imposed upon us by society. As much as I love ranking on this modern age, it seems that in retrospect, childhood can potentially last a lot longer nowadays than it did in the past, mainly because we live a lot longer as a whole than we used to. I remember reading a YA fiction novel, I believe it was called Anna of Byzantium, in which Anna points out that at the age of 11, she is considered an adult and could have potentially been in a position of power, being a Byzantine princess and all. Comparatively, at the age of 11, I was having great inner turmoil about whether I should continue to play with my Barbie dolls or not (I came to the conclusion that I needed to stop at age 13 when my Barbie role plays were turning entirely too much into the plots for cheap porn films). However, at the same time, at least in the United States, we're kind of given a Honey Do List from birth that goes a little something like this:
This new spin on an old classic seemed promising, very much like Maleficent, and in that respect, I was correct. This movie was a lot like Maleficent, though it was much more upbeat than Maleficent and I cried a lot less during this movie (until the end) but that's another story for another entry. There were a few decisions made that I didn't necessarily like, such as the decision to incorporate modern songs into a movie that's supposed to take place ages before Nirvana, The Ramones, etc. although I will say that the inclusion of Blitzkrieg Bop made sense in a way, since Pan takes place during WWII. When it comes to this fairly unanimous pet peeve, I will concede that it was a lot less obnoxious than in movies like Moulin Rouge and Book of Life.
The story of Peter Pan is definitely thought provoking and Pan is no exception. Like most fairy tales, it's watered down from the original tale that was supposed to be dark and gruesome at times. Some people find it a little disconcerting to change a character who is childlike yet a psychotic serial killer into an archetype of sorts for youth and everyone's inner child. Even when it comes to psychology, they've coined the term "Peter Pan Syndrome" when there's an adult who doesn't want to grow up. This leads me back to the subject at hand: Is growing up the worst thing ever?
There is no easy answer for this. In this modern world, and with the way things are, childhood can be easily squelched before it has run its course. I'm not going to go full Ned Flanders and say that we should live in a quasi-Utopian village based entirely upon Berta Hummel figurines in order to protect childhood innocence, but I also don't want to go to the extremes that I've heard some people express how they feel that children should be exposed to sex, violence, and all the depravity of the world as soon as possible. One of my ex-boyfriends and I used to get into horrific fights about how we wanted to raise our children if we had them. He felt that childhood innocence was just sugar-coating ignorance and he was a firm believer that ignorance was not bliss and that it was a plague that should be exterminated at all costs. Another ex-significant other of mine felt that children are fully capable of having a fulfilling sex life, another notion that made my mind get a figurative Blue Screen of Death and made my nervous system want to run out of my body like a frightened Chihuahua, it was that unnerving to me. Frankly, I believe there should be a happy medium (And for crying out loud, I firmly believe sex shouldn't even be a concern until puberty, because life if complicated enough without throwing that mess into it when you're trying to learn basic things like your ABC's and how to cross the road without getting turned into road pizza). Sheltering kids the way that conservative folks like CWA (Concerned Women for America) want us to do could have just as much negative backlash as sitting little Timmy down and having him watch the Playboy channel, Quentin Tarantino movies, and Requiem for a Dream back to back. Every child is different, as every person and creature is different, but I feel that in general, since a child's brain is still developing, they shouldn't be overwhelmed with things they cannot fully comprehend. Not to mention opinions like my ex-significant others' are coming from the perspective of well-seasoned adults, and as adults, it's hard for us to be able to remember and relate to things from when we were children. As Blackbeard, the character in Pan who's kind of a precursor to Captain Hook, points out, childhood isn't all peaches and cream. Childhood has its own set of problems, but once we are introduced to the grown up world of taxes, bills, child support, etc., the childhood problems look so small in comparison. For example: I remember a particular incident from when I was a member of an...err...specialty forum...around age 15, maybe 16. Granted, I was a very precocious and mature 15 year old whom physically and mentally could pass as at least 18, but I still had the problems of a 15 year old and had to try to cope with the stress from these issues, which at times made me a snotty little bitch. One of the female admins on this forum, a very nice but somewhat stern 36 year old woman named Tina, was actually nice enough to reach out and ask me what was wrong. She noticed that I had gone from being mature and witty to scathing, moody, and acting my age, which made the fellow forum members very annoyed. I don't remember exactly what was wrong at the time, but I'm sure it was family issues, high school issues, or boyfriend issues. Being a 36 year old woman, she tried to be sympathetic as much as possible, but flat out said, "I'm sorry, but when I think back to that point in my life, my problems then seem so insignificant and minuscule compared to my problems now". This was fairly disappointing and made me feel kind of small and insignificant. As a result, I've always tried to not belittle the problems of others, regardless of age or predicament. One of the best ways to overcome and cope with grief that I have found is to not try to measure your grief like a penis, and definitely not try to have a pissing contest over whose grief is the worst. After all, even if you do have the most grief and you can, without blinking an eye, go up to (for instance) Jesus Christ, hanging bloody, beaten, and dying on the cross and say, "Suck it up, buttercup, I have it worse than you do!" what really is that going to accomplish or prove? There is no trophy or award for having the most grief. It suffices to say we all have problems. Some people like the Lone Wolf approach of, "No one can fix your problems but you", which holds true, but I also like pointing out that people who work together can accomplish things faster and easier, solving a multitude of problems in the process. True cooperation is a rare and beautiful thing.
Now that we have gone over childhood innocence and relating to children, I'd like to point out some ways in which growing up, is indeed, a necessary evil that's imposed upon us by society. As much as I love ranking on this modern age, it seems that in retrospect, childhood can potentially last a lot longer nowadays than it did in the past, mainly because we live a lot longer as a whole than we used to. I remember reading a YA fiction novel, I believe it was called Anna of Byzantium, in which Anna points out that at the age of 11, she is considered an adult and could have potentially been in a position of power, being a Byzantine princess and all. Comparatively, at the age of 11, I was having great inner turmoil about whether I should continue to play with my Barbie dolls or not (I came to the conclusion that I needed to stop at age 13 when my Barbie role plays were turning entirely too much into the plots for cheap porn films). However, at the same time, at least in the United States, we're kind of given a Honey Do List from birth that goes a little something like this:
- Be born.
- Be a kid and learn.
- Sometime between birth and high school- Choose what you want to do with your life and do not deviate from the plan.
- High school- Take classes that mesh well with what you need to do credit-wise vs. the career path you've already been pressured to choose.
- Graduate from high school and go to college.
- College- Acquire knowledge and/or at least get a piece of paper that says you can do a thing.
- Graduate from college in your early twenties and spend the rest of your life doing the thing for someone else's benefit more than your own, preferably, because after all, in the Land of Opportunity that was built on entrepreneurship and creativity, if you try being an entrepreneur without taking out a $15,000 loan just to get started, you're a lazy slug who needs to get a "real job" by being an indentured servant to Corporate America or you'll meet the Salt Shaker of Crushing Poverty. Don't even think of being disabled either, because then the Salt Shaker of Crushing Poverty will be used upon you while people constantly dismiss that there is anything wrong with you.
- Retire around 65, move to Florida or somewhere with the savings and retirement you're supposed to have accrued, maybe come out of retirement if need be to be a greeter at Walmart to pay for your medications, and try to enjoy life and accomplish everything on your bucket list with 0 energy and very little time left.
This pre-prescribed future is, mercifully, not imposed upon children (well, at least not at first, depending on their parents). Children are born neutral, with a clean slate that's not blemished or tainted yet. It's easy to see how being that fresh and new is enviable. A lot of programming, books, and other things for children have the underlying tones of "You can do anything! You can be anything! Do what you want to do! Your imagination is your best tool and you should use it all the time!" Playing and having fun is seen as a way for them to learn and activities like reading, coloring, etc. is encouraged and seen as useful too. At age 26, if my mom asks me what I'm doing and I tell her I'm reading, I'm expected to put my book down and "do useful things". Again, what a difference a few years can make! Just talking about it honestly makes me want to use some Pixie Dust to make my car fly to Neverland so that I can have some peace and quiet.
Don't even get me started on how much fun it can be to have a pre-pubescent body, free from hormones that cause acne, lethargy, mood swings, etc. I mainly remember my childhood as a time of boundless energy, getting up at 6 am on a Saturday because I can't sleep any longer, and being able to do ALL the things without wanting to take a nap after 3 tasks. As much as it's fun to have boobs, hips, and being old enough to flaunt what my mama gave me, when my PCOS kicks in, I'm ready to either change sexes or take a magic Tardis ride back to my childhood and bring Baby Ari to Neverland right then and there to spare her from turning into me. Again, another topic for another blog.
Is growing up all bad though? Again, depends on the person, but in general, no. Some people really like working, some people like independence, some people like authority (can't help but read that as AUTHORITAHHH), some people really like being able to have sex, watch porn, and indulge in ALL the hedonism and sensuality, and some people like having their own family and kids of their own. Actually, if I could condense all of the reasoning behind children wanting to grow up too fast into one simple reason, it would probably be the yearning for independence. We want to zoom out of the nest because it's only natural to outgrow our parents, just sometimes it happens before we are really and truly ready. To be fair, it has just as much to do with the parents as the children. Even the nicest, most fun of parents seem to have a hard time taking their children seriously and admitting that sometimes their kids can be right and they can be wrong. Not that every parent is like an adult out of Matilda, but I can see how it's hard to transition from seeing the flesh of your flesh and blood of your blood as a helpless ball of squish that needs you to clean up its explosive diarrhea to being a sentient being that has a will of its own and its own path in life. Speaking from experience, I know how hard it is to feel like you can do anything right when you have someone tut tutting and doubting every move that you make. Sometimes the harder parents try to guide their children, the more it drives the child away and makes them want to grow up before their time. Not to mention kids/teens/young adults get mentally stunted and traumatized from things like divorce, parental death, etc. on a regular basis. If these drastic changes to their world aren't addressed properly, they can go from being a small cyst of an issue to a giant, festering carbuncle of an issue, causing them to grow up before their time, and then perhaps come regressing back later on, which as I know is incredibly inconvenient for all involved.
Anyway, it's time for me to piece these ramblings into a cohesive whole. Is growing up literally the worst thing ever? No, it's a part of life. Are some of the things associated with being an adult some of the most vile, foul, and abominable disgraces to this thing we call life? Absolutely! I mean hell, it's not like children are perfect and free of fault, but most of the problems we have as a society in general stem from the greed and vice of the powers that be and the people that enable these things to continue. Can we avoid adulthood? Perhaps, but that might make things harder in the long run and is a hard lifestyle to sustain. Again, no two people are alike or have the same path, but I like to think that if we, as people, can find a way to preserve our imagination, avoid becoming jaded assholes that feel like we've seen and done everything, treat each other as nicely as we were taught to in kindergarten when it comes to The Golden Rule, sharing, etc. and work together instead of flipping everyone the bird while being indifferent or going out of our way to make things harder for them, it would take the edge off of transitioning from childhood to adulthood.
Don't even get me started on how much fun it can be to have a pre-pubescent body, free from hormones that cause acne, lethargy, mood swings, etc. I mainly remember my childhood as a time of boundless energy, getting up at 6 am on a Saturday because I can't sleep any longer, and being able to do ALL the things without wanting to take a nap after 3 tasks. As much as it's fun to have boobs, hips, and being old enough to flaunt what my mama gave me, when my PCOS kicks in, I'm ready to either change sexes or take a magic Tardis ride back to my childhood and bring Baby Ari to Neverland right then and there to spare her from turning into me. Again, another topic for another blog.
Is growing up all bad though? Again, depends on the person, but in general, no. Some people really like working, some people like independence, some people like authority (can't help but read that as AUTHORITAHHH), some people really like being able to have sex, watch porn, and indulge in ALL the hedonism and sensuality, and some people like having their own family and kids of their own. Actually, if I could condense all of the reasoning behind children wanting to grow up too fast into one simple reason, it would probably be the yearning for independence. We want to zoom out of the nest because it's only natural to outgrow our parents, just sometimes it happens before we are really and truly ready. To be fair, it has just as much to do with the parents as the children. Even the nicest, most fun of parents seem to have a hard time taking their children seriously and admitting that sometimes their kids can be right and they can be wrong. Not that every parent is like an adult out of Matilda, but I can see how it's hard to transition from seeing the flesh of your flesh and blood of your blood as a helpless ball of squish that needs you to clean up its explosive diarrhea to being a sentient being that has a will of its own and its own path in life. Speaking from experience, I know how hard it is to feel like you can do anything right when you have someone tut tutting and doubting every move that you make. Sometimes the harder parents try to guide their children, the more it drives the child away and makes them want to grow up before their time. Not to mention kids/teens/young adults get mentally stunted and traumatized from things like divorce, parental death, etc. on a regular basis. If these drastic changes to their world aren't addressed properly, they can go from being a small cyst of an issue to a giant, festering carbuncle of an issue, causing them to grow up before their time, and then perhaps come regressing back later on, which as I know is incredibly inconvenient for all involved.
Anyway, it's time for me to piece these ramblings into a cohesive whole. Is growing up literally the worst thing ever? No, it's a part of life. Are some of the things associated with being an adult some of the most vile, foul, and abominable disgraces to this thing we call life? Absolutely! I mean hell, it's not like children are perfect and free of fault, but most of the problems we have as a society in general stem from the greed and vice of the powers that be and the people that enable these things to continue. Can we avoid adulthood? Perhaps, but that might make things harder in the long run and is a hard lifestyle to sustain. Again, no two people are alike or have the same path, but I like to think that if we, as people, can find a way to preserve our imagination, avoid becoming jaded assholes that feel like we've seen and done everything, treat each other as nicely as we were taught to in kindergarten when it comes to The Golden Rule, sharing, etc. and work together instead of flipping everyone the bird while being indifferent or going out of our way to make things harder for them, it would take the edge off of transitioning from childhood to adulthood.
Sunday, October 11, 2015
"Gotta Stand Out, So You Notice Me"
Heeheehee...if you're a Millennial, like I am, or just happen to be a fan of 90's Disney movies, you'll probably be able to place the quote that makes up the title. Anyway, that's pretty much what this post will cover. Most bloggers/vloggers seem to have that one particular thing or cluster of things that sets them apart. I've been contemplating which experiences of mine could potentially set me apart from others and provide some interesting or helpful content, and I've narrowed it down to these:
- I have insight into hoarders/hoarding. I am in the process of cleaning out my hoarder grandmother's house. Since hoarding and the stories of Children (and families) of Hoarders, seems to be a hot topic, it might be valuable (or at the very least, it might be entertaining) to share my first hand experiences pertaining to this subject.
- I spent 8 years in a very private, traditional Catholic school. Only 50 children at most were in this school at any one point. So much of what happened seems so bizarre and unreal that I have to occasionally cross reference things with friends whom attended the school as well. Some people I've spoken with about it go so far as to call it a "cult", but I tend to think that's a little extreme. It had its pros and cons, and honestly, I don't know if anyone else in the country, or the world, had similar schooling. If there are others out there who did, hopefully they'll find this blog and share their experiences too!
- I have PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome), and while I know a lot of women have it, not a lot of people know about it (My last therapist did not even know what it is and she went to Yale and Cornell!). Even though uterine cancer can result from it, somehow it doesn't get even a fraction as much awareness as breast cancer and other conditions. I am an avid believer that there should be more PCOS awareness, and yes, even men should know about it in case they become involved with a woman with it.
- I know a lot of odd people and am involved with unusual subcultures and fandoms, to the point where I've been dubbed "Queen of Weirdos". No, I don't do anything illegal or harmful to others, just stuff that leaves your Average Joe bewildered.
- I also have insight into mental illnesses like depression and can explain certain types of therapies in ways that are probably easier to comprehend than most psychology websites. I've had years of talk therapy and DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) with mixed results.
Well, that's it for now. If I think of anything else, I'll add it in later. I hope I've piqued at least someone's interest with this list. :)
Also, for those of you who couldn't guess the song/movie that the title is from,
here you go!
Greetings, Interwebs!
Since this is my first entry, this will be an introduction to who I am, why I have decided to blog, and what kind of things you, as the reader, can expect to read in the future.
I guess I should start at the very beginning. My name is Ariana. I am a 26 year old female entity from the United States, in the tiny New England state of Connecticut. I live in what is known as the "All American Valley". I live with family (like so many of my peer group), which includes 3 small Chihuahua-terrier mixes (Fawn, Miss Piggy, and Stone) and my very robust feline named Rupert. I really don't know what else to say about myself at this juncture, but I'm sure other things about me will come to play in future blogs.
I have decided to blog at this point in time because, frankly, the more things change, the more they seem to stay the same, as the saying goes. I like writing. I've always loved writing. However, it's gone from being a luxury and a hobby to being something that I feel very much compelled to do nowadays. As all of the propagandized videos about how technology rules our lives and how we need to put down the infernal cell phones, iPads, etc. and reclaim our humanity love to point out, a lot of us have hundreds of friends on Facebook and other forms of social media and yet we still can feel very much alone. I fall into this category. Last I checked, I have 716 Facebook friends and yet I tend to feel like no one listens to me. Is it vitally important that I have someone paying attention to me at all times? Absolutely not, that would be a ludicrous thing for me to impose upon family, friends, and acquaintances. However, being a Libra and being who I am, I am very much about fairness. When I see people posting things on Facebook, and not to honk my own horn, but sometimes they can be the most inane and pointless things, and yet without fail, have swarms of people flocking to their every status and hanging on their every word, I know something is rotten in Denmark (to borrow another phrase). So, I've decided to do my Facebook friends and the fans of the pages I admin a huge favor, and take my ramblings to another medium. This is far from my first time blogging as well. I remember before the dawn of social media, when LiveJournal was the place where all of the cool kids went to vent about their home lives, try to figure out whom they are, and most importantly, tell the kids they didn't like how their blog was a waste of bandwidth and to go kill themselves. I also tried vlogging on YouTube and found that to be extremely cutthroat, because let's be honest: Unless a YouTuber is able to speak well (meaning smoothly, no stuttering, no forgetting what they're talking about midsentence a la G.W. Bush, and other bad habits that we're told not to do in Public Speaking class) and has the latest camcorder and video editing skills, it's hard to get taken seriously by the YouTube audience. I might still do YouTube for my business channel, ScentsFurAll, and I'll keep my old personal vlog account, bloodybella646, up as a "just in case" kind of thing, but in general, I've found that I communicate infinitely better via the written word. It might be all in my head, but either way, that's what I feel that I've noticed. In all honesty and to be fair, I've noticed that the biggest impediment to my ability to communicate with others is my fear of being misunderstood, misconstrued, and ultimately people hating me for the things that I say. I've developed a very finely tuned "brain to mouth filter", as I've heard it called, but unfortunately, it works a little too well and sometimes I don't speak, and in retrospect kick myself for things I wish I had said.
With that said, I'm hoping to achieve a happy medium with this blog. While I have matured enough to know that it is impossible to please everyone, I hope that by talking about my observations and opinions of life in this blog using this medium as opposed to Facebook, I'll be able to have everything laid out for those who care to know and those whom don't wish to know won't be bothered with it against their will. This leads me to what you, my dear reader, will read if you come back to my blog sometime. I'm thinking of doing just a general blog, where I write about whatever comes to my mind. Some of it might be pertinent only to a small group of people and some of it might be relate-able to more people than I can possibly imagine.
In closing, I want to say that this blog is, at least to me, an act of bravery. As a person, I find myself easily discouraged. I am very disheartened by the lack of originality that I see in the world and often take it out on myself, wishing to be more creative and unique. When I find myself doing something that I lot of people are doing, it depresses me, because I hear the words of naysayers echoing in my ears.
"All these people have blogs and they're all the same. They're all just people bitching about stuff and acting like their thoughts and opinions count for shit."
"People who write autobiographies are narcissistic and egomaniacs. Whose life is really so fascinating that they can justify writing a book about it?"
These statements and many variations of them ran through my head on repeat while I was trying to select a website to use for my blog. I struggled to silence them and tried not to acknowledge them until now. This is my response to these naysayers:
People are strange creatures. They tell you that life sucks, that life is hard and you just have to suck it up, and all sorts of other horrible, ugly things (granted, they are true), but then when you give up as a result of these things and just want to throw in the towel on your life, then they say even more ugly things about you for wanting to end your life, or they do a complete 180 and start saying that life is beautiful, there is so much for which a person can live, and that life is precious. Okay, so follow me here. If life is precious, then are not observations and everyone's unique perspective precious as well? Sure, there are thousands of blogs out there, but who really has the authority to say one person is better than someone else?
On that note, I'll end this entry. Thank you for reading all the way to the end and perhaps I'll write another entry later.
I guess I should start at the very beginning. My name is Ariana. I am a 26 year old female entity from the United States, in the tiny New England state of Connecticut. I live in what is known as the "All American Valley". I live with family (like so many of my peer group), which includes 3 small Chihuahua-terrier mixes (Fawn, Miss Piggy, and Stone) and my very robust feline named Rupert. I really don't know what else to say about myself at this juncture, but I'm sure other things about me will come to play in future blogs.
I have decided to blog at this point in time because, frankly, the more things change, the more they seem to stay the same, as the saying goes. I like writing. I've always loved writing. However, it's gone from being a luxury and a hobby to being something that I feel very much compelled to do nowadays. As all of the propagandized videos about how technology rules our lives and how we need to put down the infernal cell phones, iPads, etc. and reclaim our humanity love to point out, a lot of us have hundreds of friends on Facebook and other forms of social media and yet we still can feel very much alone. I fall into this category. Last I checked, I have 716 Facebook friends and yet I tend to feel like no one listens to me. Is it vitally important that I have someone paying attention to me at all times? Absolutely not, that would be a ludicrous thing for me to impose upon family, friends, and acquaintances. However, being a Libra and being who I am, I am very much about fairness. When I see people posting things on Facebook, and not to honk my own horn, but sometimes they can be the most inane and pointless things, and yet without fail, have swarms of people flocking to their every status and hanging on their every word, I know something is rotten in Denmark (to borrow another phrase). So, I've decided to do my Facebook friends and the fans of the pages I admin a huge favor, and take my ramblings to another medium. This is far from my first time blogging as well. I remember before the dawn of social media, when LiveJournal was the place where all of the cool kids went to vent about their home lives, try to figure out whom they are, and most importantly, tell the kids they didn't like how their blog was a waste of bandwidth and to go kill themselves. I also tried vlogging on YouTube and found that to be extremely cutthroat, because let's be honest: Unless a YouTuber is able to speak well (meaning smoothly, no stuttering, no forgetting what they're talking about midsentence a la G.W. Bush, and other bad habits that we're told not to do in Public Speaking class) and has the latest camcorder and video editing skills, it's hard to get taken seriously by the YouTube audience. I might still do YouTube for my business channel, ScentsFurAll, and I'll keep my old personal vlog account, bloodybella646, up as a "just in case" kind of thing, but in general, I've found that I communicate infinitely better via the written word. It might be all in my head, but either way, that's what I feel that I've noticed. In all honesty and to be fair, I've noticed that the biggest impediment to my ability to communicate with others is my fear of being misunderstood, misconstrued, and ultimately people hating me for the things that I say. I've developed a very finely tuned "brain to mouth filter", as I've heard it called, but unfortunately, it works a little too well and sometimes I don't speak, and in retrospect kick myself for things I wish I had said.
With that said, I'm hoping to achieve a happy medium with this blog. While I have matured enough to know that it is impossible to please everyone, I hope that by talking about my observations and opinions of life in this blog using this medium as opposed to Facebook, I'll be able to have everything laid out for those who care to know and those whom don't wish to know won't be bothered with it against their will. This leads me to what you, my dear reader, will read if you come back to my blog sometime. I'm thinking of doing just a general blog, where I write about whatever comes to my mind. Some of it might be pertinent only to a small group of people and some of it might be relate-able to more people than I can possibly imagine.
In closing, I want to say that this blog is, at least to me, an act of bravery. As a person, I find myself easily discouraged. I am very disheartened by the lack of originality that I see in the world and often take it out on myself, wishing to be more creative and unique. When I find myself doing something that I lot of people are doing, it depresses me, because I hear the words of naysayers echoing in my ears.
"All these people have blogs and they're all the same. They're all just people bitching about stuff and acting like their thoughts and opinions count for shit."
"People who write autobiographies are narcissistic and egomaniacs. Whose life is really so fascinating that they can justify writing a book about it?"
These statements and many variations of them ran through my head on repeat while I was trying to select a website to use for my blog. I struggled to silence them and tried not to acknowledge them until now. This is my response to these naysayers:
People are strange creatures. They tell you that life sucks, that life is hard and you just have to suck it up, and all sorts of other horrible, ugly things (granted, they are true), but then when you give up as a result of these things and just want to throw in the towel on your life, then they say even more ugly things about you for wanting to end your life, or they do a complete 180 and start saying that life is beautiful, there is so much for which a person can live, and that life is precious. Okay, so follow me here. If life is precious, then are not observations and everyone's unique perspective precious as well? Sure, there are thousands of blogs out there, but who really has the authority to say one person is better than someone else?
On that note, I'll end this entry. Thank you for reading all the way to the end and perhaps I'll write another entry later.
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