So you think you want to start a blog and enter the madness of the blogging world. Just kidding, there isn’t that much madness, this isn’t SUR. But, I don’t know what led you to this decision, which is really the first question you need to ask yourself before you start this process. So grab your tea and sit down. (This isnt gunna be some in depth thing, I’m just giving you the low down)
Why do you want to start a blog?
What makes me happy, you ask?
Whenever I think about what makes me happy, or what would make me happy its always something dramatic.
“I can finally afford that Gucci belt”, “I really want a Louis Vuitton”, “I want to go to Greece”. I’m really an all or nothing bitch, but I’m trying to change that, you wanna know why?
A wise woman once told me, put your name on your shit. Own the shit you worked so hard on. Don’t hide behind a name. I really didn’t think I was hiding, I just didn’t want my real name everywhere. However, this is real work I’m doing, and I love it. So you know what? Screw it. I want you to facebook me when you read my stuff, I want people to reach out, and I want my name in GIANT LETTERS by everything. Because it is MINE
Nothing is permanent. Especially the good stuff. Sometimes, when the fog of anxiety clears, you think it’s all over. You think that it’s over, FINALLY. You come out of a funk, you clean your room and get all the shit off of the floor, and light one decrepit Bath and Body Works candle from 2009 and relax. In a perfect world that is where the credits would roll. BUT we do not live in a perfect world, and the anxiety will come back like some terrible Mean Girls 2 sequel. I sat in my office at work, feeling the walls cave in, on your average Tuesday morning, trying to catch my breath and sweating. If someone had asked me what was wrong the answer would be “nothing” or “I don’t know”, and it wouldn’t be a lie. Generalized anxiety is stupid and it happens any time for any and all reasons.
Then, while scrolling instagram searching for the perfect InStAgRaM story (follow me here), I saw something revolutionary. It was a quote that said:
You wanna know something? I love trashy TV. The trashier the better actually. After having to use my nice people voice all day (seriously, why do we do that and who even IS that person?), there is nothing better than watching Pauly D scream at people in a mocking tone of his own voice.
Teen mom has seemed to get away from me.
First of all, if you have NOT watched Jenelle Evans’ straight up road rage episode, watch it now. Home girl has lost her whole mind. She put Jace in an unbelievable amount of danger. Which I am sure she did not think she was doing because she’s an NRA groupie, and her gun would save them from whatever danger she was leading them into. (not saying it wouldnt save them, but what if that dude also pulled out a gun and was a little less stable). Secondly, Jace was not phased one bit during this entire thing, just like he was on a leisurely car ride, so, you know he’s seen some shit.
So, I’ve been gone, living the post graduate life.
I got a job. In the field I have studied for. The field I spent five years studying. SO….why am I so sad and empty? Was Graduate school the honeymoon phase of my life? God that’s so sad. I considered just getting a PhD because apparently school was the best thing since sliced bread. Until I came across a post on facebook. The. Post. Graduate. Slump.
I wanted to share something with you guys. WordPress keeps telling me the readability “needs improvement” in large red letters. Well thats because ITS BORING. It is my masters independent research project. There are no pictures, or headings with the appropriate amount of words underneath (because there are thousands of words underneath bitches). Anyways, this took me four entire months, draft after draft, sweat, panic, citations, more panic about accidentally plagiarizing, eye strain, probably carpal tunnel from typing eight thousand words, and ignoring my friends. But I got through it, and turned it in, and realized I did all that work and research for a grade and my professor to read it. Back to the external hard drive to collect dust. Um, no thank you. Im going to leave it here so that you all can read ALL OF IT, my entire 27 page paper, because you LOVE ME. Also, who knows, maybe this could be a good resource for someone, scholarly or real life. Enjoy.
(I’ll add a couple pix, maybe it will bump up its “readability”)
As I watch the final episodes of 13 Reasons Why, I want to recap this shit.
I’m not ready to talk about the Royal Wedding yet, okay? So, this is where we are right now.
There are obviously spoilers up in here. You’ve been warned.
13 Reasons Why Season 2 proved to be just of a hot mess as the first.
The book? Fantastic! The first season depiction? It was actually kind of good, and entertaining. It showed a dramatized version of how awful high school could be. UNTIL — they did what they did to Hannah’s scene. It was supposed to be pills, it was quiet, peaceful, and easy. They needed a shock factor. So, they did what they did, and I hated it. Then they stuck up for it, and I hated it even more. That is where they lost me for good, I won’t be a fan, but I’ll watch it. It is entertaining.
Alrighty, lets get started.
I took my first Women and Gender Studies class on accident in 2012. A class had gotten cancelled and that was the only class that fit in that time slot. I remember sitting at the kitchen island, mentally preparing myself for the armpit hair and Birkenstocks I was about to see. Rehearsing my best “men are pigs” speech. And then…..I got there.
And it was NONE of those things. Everything society had fed me about feminism was wrong, because feminism was fucking great. Just about equality, both genders looking out for each other to make everything great. There weren’t man haters there, and there were only like 3 hairy armpits! It was amazing. I learned about gender equality, while also learning about everyone else who experiences inequality, getting to hear their stories and their fights for equality as well.
I just couldn’t believe the whole world wasn’t on board with this, I mean, it wasn’t hurting anyone else to help those others achieve equality. (most people think feminism was about rising above men, and wanting to be better, but it wasn’t that at all. We just want to get some more rights). So, whatever, aside from your radial uncle on facebook talking about women wanting to take over men, I thought everyone would love this shit.
I mean, I was like one class shy of a minor in Women and Gender Studies. I was about that life. It just made sense to me? Lets all work together and be some god damn bad asses!
That was until it just stopped making sense to me.
Ever since I was little I can remember loving the feeling of pressure on me. Not the inside pressure, where I had to decide if I was going to begin my forgery career, or just admit to my teacher my mom did NOT sign my agenda and I would be sitting inside for recess. (I’ll let you choose what one I decided on) What I mean is, like when a friend sits on you in, what I can only assume, an attempt to kill you. They’re screaming at you “DOES THIS HURT??!” and you’re laying there like……ummm…actually it doesn’t and this is great. Same thing as when my cat, on an extremely rare occasion (I’m talking rare like my cousin showers AND brushes his teeth in the same day rare) sits on my chest. Im like, oh my god live here on my chest forever please. It just felt so calming? What an odd thing. Or so I thought.
Turns out….It’s not actually that weird.
It is like an actual thing that helps people. Something about Deep Touch Pressure, and how it can reduce activity in the nervous system, or even go as far as like the pressure, like a hug, releases serotonin and endorphins and other science shit. Nobody ever told me this life changing information. I stumbled upon it when I discovered…*drum roll please*…..