As You Would Have Them Do Unto You

Dear Gay Community:

It has been 24 hours since I publicly began bargaining for you. And I am exhausted. I am a straight woman in love with a straight man- this isn't really my battle.

Except that it is.

I apologize for every time you felt unloved, unwanted, not good enough, etc. I don't mean to put words in your mouth, it's just that if I were in your shoes, it's how I'd feel.

So, call me a sinner if you must, world, because I can't change what my heart feels to be true.

Praise the Lord that it is He alone who will judge my heart come my time. All I am trying to do is love an unloved people. To treat them with the kindness that I have been treated with, and to show them the grace and compassion that I have been shown. As soon as I could criticize their lifestyle, they could criticize mine. We are all blemished and unholy, by why do I try to force them out of their lifestyle, and I use the word force literally.

In my version of the world, the gay community would walk upright with any and all civil rights, without a scarlet letter branding them and barring them from things.

The point that I would like to make most clear is that yes, Phil Robertson had a right to say what he wanted and yes, he is Biblically correct in what he said. BUT what he said caused pain and anguish in the hearts of those living the lifestyle he spoke of. It belittled their lives and love and did not make Jesus look even slightly appealing to them.
And THAT is my biggest issue with what he said. IT IS NOT DIFFICULT, RESPECT OTHERS' DIFFERENCES AND LOVE THEM DESPITE THEIR SINS AS THEY SHOULD DO YOU.

To anyone that privately or publicly contacted me to show support, thank you so much, your words mean so much as these are scary things to say out loud when you grew up like I did.

Perhaps a decade ago, I wouldn't have felt the way that I do now. Maybe 5 years ago I might have felt it but was too afraid of the shame and retort to say it. But I'm too old now and have heard enough. I will fight for you, and I will still love God. If my open heart isn't good enough, than so be it, that's all I have to offer.

I can't turn my back when I see an injustice- usually I can't do much about it except complain to my boyfriend,  but maybe if I try hard enough, I can do something this time.

Do Unto Others

I have been awake for a little over an hour. I checked the weather, my email, and my Facebook account at which point I was bombarded about the news that Phil Robertson was fired due to his anti-gay remarks. I was informed of this via the many articles posted by people in Delaware, most of whom I know from my church.

"Constitutional rights!" "Freedom of Speech!"

Let's get on thing straight, guys. He was not shot by a firing squad... he was fired (It is probably temporarily, he is a cash cow for A&E they're probably doing it to save face. Let's be realistic here.)

He exercised his right to speak freely and his family wasn't taken away in the middle of the night, he didn't get his tongue cut out, he wasn't publicly executed. His boss didn't like what he said, and he was fired. If you watch the news a little more, you'd notice that this happens to regular people (how many teachers get fired for a misunderstood Facebook status?) fairly often.

Also, are we all aware of what he actually said. Like, you all read the article and didn't feel the slightest bit uncomfortable?

In case you're just clicking likes on photos that say that Phil has the right to Free Speech, but don't know what he even said, I will inform you.

 "It seems like, to me, a vagina -- as a man -- would be more desirable than a man's anus," Robertson says in the January issue of the men's magazine. "That's just me. I'm just thinking: There's more there! She's got more to offer. I mean, come on, dudes! You know what I'm saying? But hey, sin: It's not logical, my man. It's just not logical."

During a discussion about repentance and God, Robertson is asked what he finds sinful.

"Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there," he says. "Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men."

taken from here.

Oh friends, come on now. Have you ever met a gay person? I will have to assume not. To liken a gay man (notice, he doesn't mention gay women...) to someone who has sex with animals is beyond profane.

You want to know who has sex with animals? Depraved, evil, (yes, I know, we're all evil without the love of Christ) and incredibly messed up individuals like this guy who is also in the public eye. If you don't want to click on the link, the facts are that he tried to rape a baby, sexually abused a woman's child with her consent, and "he pleaded guilty to possessing and making indecent photographs of children as well as having extreme pornographic material involving bestiality on his computer hard drive."

Men who are gay cannot be placed in the same realm as this man, who by all accounts is straight.

Another fun fact: Gay men do not engage in sexual activity with other gay men because they're hyper-sexualized and that's all their is too it. Sometimes, they might just want to have sex, as a straight male and straight woman might, sometimes though- they fall in love! Sometimes it has absolutely nothing to do with sex, but the mere fact that they found someone who loves their soul!

And here's the thing, I enjoy Duck Dynasty, well, rather, I did.

On my last trip home to Smallville, DE I began to take photos of the Duck Dynasty branded things I found at the local WalMart. Duck Dynasty, shame on you. I mean, these people are making a fortune off of some dang lip balm flavored like Uncle Si's sweet tea. Come on now! Y'all are out of control!

I understand (well, not really, but I can try to) the common Christian viewpoint of believing that people "choose" to be gay. (Can you honestly tell me why someone would choose a lifestyle in which they are likened to beastialitists?!) I (try to) see the point of view where they don't deserve the common rights, etc. that a person who chooses to be straight receives (as the government chooses, mind you.)

But what I can't see is how a group of compassionate, non-judgmental, loving, kind-hearted people who  know that their sin is just as ugly as their brother's, could stand with a straight backbone in defense of this remark.

This quote is taken from the same site as before,

"GLAAD on Wednesday condemned his remarks as "some of the vilest and most extreme statements uttered against LGBT people in a mainstream publication" and said "his quote was littered with outdated stereotypes and blatant misinformation." 

Remember when all gay men were seen as pedophiles? That wasn't even my era as I wasn't born yet, but I remember. How far have these men had to come to prove that they aren't sex-crazed, HIV contracting, wild men who will do anything for sex? And now, let's throw them for a loop again.

"Robertson released his own statement in response to the flap early Wednesday: "I myself am a product of the '60s; I centered my life around sex, drugs and rock and roll until I hit rock bottom and accepted Jesus as my Savior. My mission today is to go forth and tell people about why I follow Christ and also what the Bible teaches, and part of that teaching is that women and men are meant to be together. However, I would never treat anyone with disrespect just because they are different from me. We are all created by the Almighty and like Him, I love all of humanity. We would all be better off if we loved God and loved each other." 

In the words of every white girl:

Literally, I just can't.

If that isn't disrespect, what is?

Here's the thing, conservative readers.

Freedom of speech allows you to post oh so many Facebook articles about things that I find to be small-minded and cruel. I get it, alright, all of us sinners are going to the Big Furnace unless we repent of our sinful ways.
And I also completely understand that the main job of a Christian is to evangelize, to spread the good news of Christ and teach others about his ways and allow the Holy Spirit to do it's job. Meaning, it is not the job of a Christian to force Christ on someone by telling them that they being a drunkard, sexually promiscuous, gay, etc. etc. will go to Hell unless they repent.

Who will drop to their knees after hearing that!? Would you!?

I am so ashamed. I am so ashamed of a culture that I grew up in, that I belonged to with pride for so long.

Did Jesus condemn the adulteress? The leper? Have we all forgotten the main message of love.

How dare this man, who could do so much good, do so much harm.

Can we not just live our lives in Christ centered ways, loving those around us so much so that they come to us asking to know more. 

Surely telling a man that the life he lives is disgusting and degrading to all of humanity is not what Christ had in mind. And if it is, that is not a man that I could ever stand behind.

Are love and grace not the entire point of the religion you all follow? Where is the love and grace for the gay men? Not anywhere that I can see.

Finally, I will end this by stating something that hurts my heart even more.

Where is the cry of outrage over the young girls who are raped and tormented and kill themselves? Where are the articles in retort about how Russia has put a ban on gay propaganda, which includes even counseling gay teens. I want articles that cry out against the evils of things like this. Where are the mothers who are applauding things like this, hoping their daughters survived childhood and adolescence unscathed by the big, mean world?!

I could go on and on. 

But, maybe those things don't matter, not as much as standing up for a T.V. PERSONALITY with more money and clout than all of the middle class people posting about him put together. Look, Phil is going to be just fine, if anything, he can write a memoir about how he is similar to those in the persecuted church for speaking out about what he believed in.

If Christ can love us through our ugly, can we love others?

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Naked.

I don't not wear makeup. I just don't. I can't remember the last time I thought it was okay to leave the house looking the way God intended. Maybe the 7th grade?

New York is such a funny city. For every person you see so dressed up you wonder if they are notable, there is a person who looks like they meant to go to Idaho and got lost here. (Much love to the Idahoians [?] who might stumble onto this blog.)

Every day I see women who aren't wearing makeup and I am utterly amazed. I am amazed that they didn't just come from the gym or overslept... that they actually left the house fully intending on braving the world with a naked face. I am SO JEALOUS of all of my friends who can say "Let me just hop in the shower, I'll meet you in 20." I don't even understand how that is possible! I would say about 90% are those chapstick-and-a-swipe-of-mascara type of girls and I can't handle it. You beautiful women! To quote on of the most wonderful films of all time:

"I'll have what she's having."

I cannot be one of those women. I do jot have strong facial features. My nose slightly hooks, my chin is weak and my cheeks just slightly too full. My eyebrows are too fine and a shade too light, and my dark eyes sort of sink into my pale complexion. Oh, that and I've been fighting a losing battle with acne for nearly a decade now and the results are scars, an uneven skin tone and a whole lot of self-consciousness.

I don't not wear make-up.

In fact, I almost always wear too much.

But I am dating a man who can't understand why I wear it and sees no point. He constantly tells me that I look great without it (to which I mutter under my breath that his eyesight must be going and/or he has a strange taste in slightly pockmarked women). But he hops in the shower, throws on clean clothes and is ready. In the time that I brush my hair and contemplate what shoes I want to wear... and that's when we're going to Trader Joe's. 

See, the need to feel beautiful in not only my own but EVERYONE'S eyes has been a part of my life for as far back as I can recall. I was the girl who snuck make-up to summer camp. And I don't know why I feel this way, I was loved and encouraged as a child- no one berated me or made me feel ugly. But, it is how  I feel. 

On Tuesday, I had nothing to do. Literally nothing. It was a struggle to find a reason just to put on pants... I would have to get very creative to find a reason to wear make-up. So I didn't. But I also didn't go anywhere or see anyone, save the bums on the subway, so it wasn't a big deal. Wednesday rolled around and I had to work but as I was blow drying my hair I lookes at myself in the mirror- I looked awful. But then I smiled and realized I looked... okay. So I didn't wear any make-up and entered the world.

Let it be known that the only times I can remember doing this in the past were during breakups when I couldn't stop crying long enough for it to actually stay on. 

And I tried to avoid looking at myself in the mirror for most of the day and so for most of the day I felt pretty good about myself. And then on Thursday I again did enter the public eye and my face stayed clean.

But here is today, Friday, day 4. Aside from the most annoying blemish on my chin...  I look okay. I really do. Maybe its just that it has been a long time since I've spent this many days with a naked face and I'm finally getting used to it, I don't know. I'm writing this as I take the train to work and after work I have plans (!) With some friends (!!) to go to a comedy thing and a bar for a late birthday celebration (!!!) and... I want to look nice. My pink streak has been sharpied purple (and I love it), my hair is on its best behavior and I am wearing my NYC uniform of black with sequins. It feels so strange to let my face stay naked. I'll probably give in about 5 minutes after I post this, but I don't care. I actually woke up for one day in my life actually pleased with the way God made my face.

** I wrote all of this on my phone so I'm sure there are typos and such... deal with it.

Thankful.

There is a chance that this is an inappropriate thing for me to post... and I guess I am going to take that chance.

Everyone is doing this thing on Facebook where they put what they are thankful for each day. It's sweet. I am thankful for a lot too, mainly the outpouring of love I receive from so many people. Sometimes I am baffled as to why these people care about my life... and yet, they do!

But sometimes, people don't care about your life, sometimes people break your heart and every time you remember it, it breaks all over again.

I had a friend once that I met in high school. This friend would sometimes fall off the face of the earth - we'd make plans for that weekend and then I wouldn't hear from her for days. But, when she wasn't M.I.A. she was my soul person. It was like I almost didn't have to tell her how I felt, because she was feeling it too. I loved this girl. I really truly did. So when she did shitty things like not respond my phone calls, etc. for weeks at a time, I was really, really hurt.But then she would call me back and we'd have a grand 'ol time and I'd forget I was ever mad.

Well fast forward to when I was about 20ish, I can't even remember what happened now, but something pushed me over the edge. Without telling this friend, I had cut her off. And I didn't tell her because I was (am) a big baby and always afraid of the repercussions of confrontation. So, to put it plainly, I was a bitch.

But my boyfriend at the time had manifested a quite surprising friendship with this girl. I would call his phone and leave three voicemails, only to see him tagged in something online with her in it. To spare you the drama, I was beside myself. I told him it made me uncomfortable, I told him it upset me, I told him all sorts of stuff and he just kept about his way constantly communicating with her online, hanging out with her in person and Lord knows what else I am unaware of.

This is the short version, but then that boyfriend left me - as most are aware. And in one of the last conversations we ever had... he talked about her. About how I was so terrible to her, how I was mean, cruel, etc. etc. I took his words to heart and contacted her shortly after and apologized for being a jerk and we resumed our friendship, she even got me a job with her! Although my heart was mangled, I was so excited to have such an old, dear friend back in my life. I tearfully told her the pain in my heart, and she who went through a break-up a few months after me, empathized completely. We even made plans to hopefully live together that coming fall!

But one day I woke up to find her posting that she was in a band... with my ex boyfriend who I had been just crying about. It might've been on of the few times in life I was speechless. I finally did confront her, to quote the lovely Cady Heron,

"I had never felt this feeling before. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. My stomach felt like it was going to fall out my butt. had this lump in my throat like after you dry-swallow a big pill I hated Regina. I hated her!"

I am not entirely sure what I said, probably something about disbelief, confusion, how it was painful, etc. I do however, remember her response. She cited her recent breakup and said that when my ex asked her to be in a band with him, she agreed because playing music made her happy... and she just wanted to be happy.

In the retrospect, I have a half hour long response for her, but in the moment, I was left speechless...again.

I quit the job pretty soon after and never spoke to her again. A few months later I found out (over the internet) that they were dating, and since I am the world's biggest internet creeper, I figured out it had began that past spring, just as she and I had begun working.

Boy did I hate her. I wanted to do so many evil things, I had so many terrible things to say... but it was pointless. My ex had made it extremely clear that if I was burning on the side of the road, he wouldn't piss on me and she probably felt the same way.  What would it change? Would she be my friend again? Would he love me again? The answers to both were a big HELL NO. So I just suffered in silence.

Until last Thanksgiving, I was at my parent's, bemoaning my Black Friday fate and decided to go through my yearbooks (a favorite activity when I am home) and I found what this friend had written in our senior year. I don't entirely remember what she wrote, but I remember ugly crying whilst reading it. I realized in that moment that as much as I hated her for breaking my heart a thousand times worse than my ex had - I didn't hate her at all. I missed her. I loved her. I often craved the special bond that we had had all those years ago. I wanted her companionship, her advice, her obnoxiousness that made me feel that my own wasn't so bad.

And so, after over a year's silence, I wrote to her.

"I've wanted to write you for a long time, but for so long I had so much to say that there was nothing I could say. I found my 12th grade yearbook tonight and read what you wrote and it was really emotional for me. I haven't thought about it in so long that I had forgotten how much you meant to me & and how much we loved each other.Its thanksgiving and I just want you to know that I truly am thankful for the friendship we had. There were a lot if times that you were the only person I felt I could turn to. I have no ulterior motive in writing this, for a long time it has been on my heart to tell you, as strange as it sounds, that I miss you, And I'm not angry anymore. It won't ever not hurt, or be weird, but I'm not mad. I loved you both for so long that I can find peace in knowing you are happy. You dont have to write me back, I just wanted you to know how I feel."

I told her she didn't have to write back but I so badly wanted her to. I wanted the reconciliation - even though there were burned bridges that could never have been repaired. I wanted to pass by her in the street and at least feel the confidence to make eye contact.

She never did write back - and maybe that hurt more than all of the past put together.

So, the moral of telling that long, slightly pathetic tale is this:

You do not know the impact that you have on others. You don't know the scars that your actions and words - and silence may cause. If you have wronged someone and you know in your heart that you have to extend the olive branch first - don't wait any longer. And if you have been wronged and someone comes to you with an apologetic heart, don't deny them. At least give them the respect they deserve.

I say all of this, because I have wronged many friends, some more than once and I am so incredibly grateful to all of them who have accepted my love and pleas of forgiveness. It is you, dear friends, who I am thankful for this year in particular. Most of you live in other states, a long car ride or even a plane ride away but you are on my mind and in my heart and I wish I could hug you all and tell you how invaluable you are to me. Instead I am writing this, and if you are one of these people, you will know it instantly.

LEAVE MILEY ALONE - Or Why Miley Is Still A Role Model

Once upon a time, there was a sad, sad time in the life of Britney Spears and all of the sudden EVERYONE became an expert on how she should live her life. And then this happened.

While tears are a little extreme, my message is the same.

LEAVE MILEY ALONE.

God bless everyone who has written a blog post/ news article about Miley's behavior. I know y'all mean well, but seriously- what are you trying to change. Do you really think your open letter to Miley, or even better an open letter to your daughter about Miley is going to change her?

I tried to read this woman's letter and I just couldn't.
Here is a crazy concept, maybe Miley HATED being Hannah Montana and everything that came with it. MAYBE Miley enjoys jumping around mostly naked with a tongue that forgot where it belongs, and MAYBE it isn't any of your business.
Turn off the TV, stop buying sleazy magazines, and switch the radio. Pop culture has always been the same. You're trying to tell me that if the Internet had existed during Madonna's Like A Virgin VMA performance people wouldn't have lost their minds as well? Destroying the institution of marriage, making a mockery of religion, etc. etc.
Welcome to the New World.

I will say that I don't agree with what Miley is doing. I think it is all sorts of crazy and makes her look a bit desperate for attention. But just an FYI to the general public, she is an adult and is no longer controlled by Disney and is performing the way she chooses.

I know that Miley is now the number 1 poster child for who American parents DON'T want their kid to be, and it is sooo easy for us to watch her go down the crazy slide and chastise her, but is that helping anyone?
If you're afraid of your daughter growing up in a world where Miley is a role model then you need to check yourself before you wreck yourself.

1.) You're daughter is growing up in a world where Miley is a role model. Little girls who knew her as Hannah Montana will always idolize her, and teenage girls who see her living her life they way she wants to will be jealous her. Not all, mind you, but enough. So, stop trying to fight it, it's here.

2.) And if Miley is the role model for girls aged 9-16, make the best of it. Seriously.

2a.) Miley chose to forgo traditional feminine beauty and get a short, fun, edgy, sexy haircut. Guess how many girls don't want long hair, or think that long hair is synonymous with pretty. Thank Miley for showing your daughter that your outward appearance can be bold, it can be nontraditional, and it can be beautiful.

2b.) Miley has come out of the Disney shadow and made a name, and a life for herself. Would I encourage you to encourage your daughter to do things the way she did... no. But you can encourage your daughter to be brave. To step out of the shadow she doesn't want to be under and to push aside the fear and become her own little person.

2c.) Miley's daddy still loves her. And someday your daughter might become her own little person and not at all the person you had hoped. Maybe she will never, ever, EVER want to wear a dress, anything sparkly, or understand how to put on eye makeup. And you will still love her. Maybe your daughter will die her hair blue and pierce her face and rip up the clothes you buy for her. And you will still love her. Maybe your daughter will chose a hard life, a life of service, poverty, forgoing all of life's comforts you worked so hard to provide for her, but she will be living a life that she feels is fulfilling. And you will still love her. Maybe your daughter will love another girl, have a baby out of wedlock, drop out of college, date a total loser, have an eating disorder, enjoy having casual sex, stop going to church. And you will still love her. Maybe your daughter will run the world someday. Maybe your daughter will cure cancer. Maybe your daughter will find world peace. Maybe your daughter will end world hunger. And it will be because you loved her.

3.) Teach your daughter about love, grace, mercy, forgiveness, and the beautiful act of being non-judgmental through Miley.
Teach your daughter to love the "lost" girls, and to love herself when she too, is lost. Teach your daughter not to label someone a slut because they do something that society says is deviant. Teach your daughter that her sins are just as ugly, and to not think she is better than Miley because she "doesn't do those things." Teach your daughter to befriend the girl who seems a little desperate for attention, not be the first to throw the stone at her. Teach your daughter how to be a woman.

And maybe, if we all teach our daughters that, we can all learn something ourselves and girls like Miley will be just fine.

The Unslut Project

I orginally intended to post this link as a facebook status with a few words and of couse I got carried away.
Let me start this by saying that I never, ever give money away- no matter how good the cause. Call me selfish, but I just don't. Except now. I don't
even have any money in my bank account so I'm charging it - and it is so worth it.

But please, just go to this link.
Please. If any part of you loves me, just click it.

They have to raise $7,500 dollars in 6 days. I have no doubt in my mind this cause it worth every dollar.

Emily Liden is an amazing human. She has posted her 6th grade diary for the world to see (I only read 5 or 6 entries before I tore myself away to write this) and it is amazing. It is a perfect picture into her world of slut-shaming before the term even existed. Even if you don't donate, I strongly encourage you to check it out.

Slut-shaming is deadly, it destroys young girls and women and forces them to believe the untrue. You can do your part in a few ways.
1.) Stop calling people sluts. Even the ones who you think deserve the name. Maybe they just really like to have sex. And maybe you're just jealous. OR MAYBE THEY AREN'T HAVING SEX AT ALL. Slut, just like "retarded" and "gay" are words that are severely misused out of their proper context and are given a derogatory meaning. Use your words people, if you want to call her ugly, call her ugly*. Don't mistake that word for slut. If you want to actually say that you're envious that she is receiving attention from a male you find attractive, then own it. Don't call her a slut because he didn't call you instead.
2.) Don't confuse sexual assault/rape with "slut" behavior. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE IS ANYONE EVER ASKING FOR UNWANTED SEXUAL CONTACT.
2a.) Not because she is drunk.
2b.) Not because she has had sex with you in the past.
2c.) Not because she had sex with your friend in the past.
2d.) Not because her skirt doesn't reach her knees.
2e.) Not because she is walking home alone at night.
2f.) Not because you two spend a lot of time together and you have the hots for her but she just thinks your friends and that makes you mad.
2g.) Not for any other reason I failed to mention.
3.) Call people out when you see it happening - whether it is physical or verbal.

WHY.

4.) Teach your children, sons and daughters, why this is so bad and what it does to these girls. Teach your sons to love women and to not attack them, coerce them, or drug them. Teach your daughters to love themselves and each other.

So much slut shaming is girl on girl. And that has to stop. 
I could go on forever about how this destroys souls & ruins lives. So much so that young girls are killing themselves over the "shame". Reteah Parsons & Audrie Pott are two names that come instantly to my mind. Maybe you think I'm being explosive and dramatic, and maybe I am. Maybe you remember being called a slut in the hallways, not even having your first kiss and hearing an ugly sexual rumor about yourself... and you survived, right?
But if you sit very still and very quiet- can you remember that burn? The humiliation of finding out what a certain sexual act was because someone said that you had done it? Remember how you got teased for being a virgin... and for losing your virginity?
Would you really wish that on someone else?

Now, if you're my age (or older) the worst we had to deal with was hallway gossip for the most part. It wasn't until my last year or so of high school that the internet became a handy place to hate on someone. Now it is the most appealing place to hate on someone, and it isn't ok. This isn't Social Media, it is Social Terrorism. And it needs to stop. And it can only stop through education. Through me telling you, and you telling som eone else, and them telling another one until finally we all understand. And then maybe someday someone will see a drunk girl in a short skirt walking home alone at night and instead of rolling their eyes and calling her a slut - or worse, making a physical move on her, just walking a few steps closer to her, just to make sure she is ok.

Because wouldn't you want someone to make sure you were ok?

This photo basically sums everything up. I know I quote it constantly, but there is really no better way to say it.


If I accomplish nothing else in this lifetime, I would like to make the world a place where one woman could count on another. Like we would have some bizarre sisterhood (no pants, please), and would know when to help a sista out, when to stand up for her, and when to protect her. That's the world I'd like to create for my daughter someday. Wouldn't you?








*I do not promote calling people ugly, I am merely saying that if you are going to use a derogatory remark, at least use the proper one for the context.

This is what you do with a B.A. in English (Or, My Gratitude List) (Or, 5,000 Views!)

My boyfriend is spending the better part of his days convincing me to turn my negative thoughts into positive ones, to which I reply that I like my negative thoughts, thank you very much.
He says that whenever he is feeling negative he writes out a gratitude list to remind of of everything he is thankful for. (I know, he is definitely not of this species.)

This week I broke 5,000 views on this blog. (And I don't event track my own page views!)
I cannot for the life of me understand why I have a stalker who has read my blog 5,000 times. Or maybe have 5,000 people who've read it once. Or whatever combination it actually is, but I am so thankful I could just cry.

My first blog post about 6 months ago was entitled "What Do You Do With a B.A. in English" and so this title feels fitting now:
In a dream world, when you have a B.A. in English, you move to New York to be a writer. Or maybe an editor. Or maybe think about grad school and get tired when you open a GRE book. Or maybe a Craigslister. Or maybe a funny person. Or maybe a funny person who writes a blog?
In the real world, when you have a B.A. in English you move to New York to try to be all of those things, but you are mostly unemployed.

So, this is where my (unemployment) gratitude list comes in:
I am grateful for... (this feels like a 2nd grade Thanksgiving assignment, but just roll with it)
1.) Taking naps in the middle of the day, after waking up around 10:30 am
2.) Being able to be free to meet any friends that call me up.
3.) Finding all of the cool things NYC has to offer for free.
4.) NOT HAVING TO WAKE UP AT 6:30 AM AND DRESS LIKE A GROWN-UP
5.) A boyfriend who is a professor and therefore has the summer "off" as well.
6.) All of the people who keep telling me not to give up.
7.) Parents who pay my loans.
8.) People who actively believe I will amount to more than the voice in my head says I will.
9.) The ability to write blog posts about being unemployed and people don't hate me for it.
10.) Being unemployed in New York, I would take it over a decent salary in a life-sucking town any day of the week.

I am so grateful for 5,000 views. For the people who read these entries and then proceed to tell me that they read the entries and that it was applicable to their life.
Y'all know who you are. And you're the best.

What a Girl Wants



"What do you try so hard to fit in
when you were born to stand out?"
Quote of my highschool life.



I wish this were a post all about the film of the same name with Amanda Bynes before she lost it.

But it's not.

I have recently been schooling the men around me in proper ways to speak to women. (This is part of my mission to end street harassment and evenutally rape culture.) I was talking to some friends about it and one said something I hadn't even thought of:

"Well, what else are you supposed to say?"

So, without futher ado
The List of Things You Can Say to Women That Aren't Overly Sexualized, Threatening, Demeaning, or Harassing:
(all of these come from personal experience)
"What a lovely shade of yellow." - A man at my office whilst standing in the elevator, he was discussing my rainboots... just go with it, this is New York.
"You have a great walk." - A man last week who I happened to be walking next to as I was trying to catch my subway... it was strange, but it made me laugh.
"That is a beautiful dress." - The MTA worker in the subway station I go to every day.*
*He didn't say this while looking me up and down, staring at my ass, or licking his lips. It was kind, casual, and took all of three seconds.
"You are a beautiful woman, God bless you." - Some 16 year old kids who were waiting for the subway with me a few weeks ago. I actually thought this was hysterical
"Would you like to share my umbrella?" - A man who was walking near me on 5th ave in the pouring rain with a gigantic umbrella while I covered my head with a scarf. I accepted his offer.
"Those are great glasses" - A man waiting in line for food beside me a few weeks ago.*
*They really are great.

The List of Things You Can't Say to Women Becaues They Are Overly Sexualized, Threatening, Demeaning, or Harassing:
All of these also come from personal experience)
"DAYUM GIRL, LOOK AT THOSE LEGS" - A man near Times Square who proceeded to lick his lips and stare at me.*
*It was a freakishly warm day in early April so I wore a dress. My legs were paler than Edward Cullen's and I would bet money that I hadn't shaved in at least 3 days.
"Oh, you ride this Subway often? What's your stop? What's your phone number. I ride this subway too, we should be friends." - A man who I'm almost positive was homeless. I sprinted out of the train to make sure he wasn't following me. (He wasn't.)
"Hey pretty lady, where are you going tonight, don't you need a man, baby?"- A man, also in Times Square as I was pushing past hoards of tourists to get to work one afternoon. How does shoving 16 year olds equate to me wanting a date with a stranger?
"What can I get you to drink?" - Men everywhere all the time.*
*This is tricky, because it was probably the first modern pick up line. I personally choose not to accept drinks from men I don't already know anymore. It doesn't lead to anything good. If you've been chatting and you feel comfortable, sure. If someone walks up to me and sees that my drink is mainly melted ice and offers to buy me another, it makes me uncomfortable. In my experience, when men buy your drink, they assume it gives them some sort of territory. Women are well aware of this, I can't tell you how many of my girlfriends disappear for 20 minutes and reappear apologizing that they felt obligated to chat with some man because he bought her a drink. No thank you. And if he keeps buying you drinks, he may feel that you then owe him something in return. I mean, that's how it works, right? Nope.

Anything with the words: "baby, mama, mami, sugar, sexy, hot, fine, etc."
Anything with any sort of physical gesture accompanying the statement: Licking lips, obviously looking her up and down, hand motions, etc.
ANY KIND OF TOUCHING AT ALL. Like, at all. Like, go away. Seriously.

So, because I feel threatened, afraid, etc. I (previously) wouldn't respond and ignore them and keep walking. Maybe I'd make some sort of a disagreeng sound and do the white girl eye roll, but that was about it. Men don't like that, I guess, because then I hear things like:

"Why you gotta be a bitch?! Ugly ass white bitch." - The West Village a few weeks ago. Like... why? And how did I go from "sexy" to "ugly" in like 6 seconds?

"Damn, can't a guy just give a girl a compliment?" - Almost every guy ever.*

*Yes, you can give a girl a compliment, but telling me that I am "fiiiiiiyne", doesn't feel like a compliment, it feels scary and threatening. I don't know you. I can't interpret what your words might lead to.
"You need to take that stick out your ass, girl." - It's true. I'm so stuck up because I don't want someone staring at me so hard I think my clothes might actually be melted off.

I just really don't think it's that hard to talk to a woman. I can't speak for everyone, but I guarentee most women want to be approached by men in a safe, consentual, casual, not scary manner,  and all of the following are appropriate:

10 ways to get Nicole's attention (in a slight order of importance):
10.) Be into what I'm into. I went to this Doctor Who trivia night and there was a guy dressed perfectly as Eleven and it took everything in me not to just leave my number on a napkin on his table. (It was the bowtie... I just can't help myself)

9.) Comment on what I'm reading. (Only if you've read it/know of it... or at least pull one of those "Oh wow, how do you like that book? I've heard great things...?)
8.) If we're in the same venue, (concert, book signing, museum, etc.) ask me/tell me something about it. (Did you know that this painting was actually originally a gift for the King of blah blah blah?)
7.) Tell me I look disgusting. *
*Lol wut?
I was lost, crossing 10th ave sometime in April and heard the guy crossing the opposite way say,

"You're digusting."

I was startled because not only was I dressed nicely for work but... who says that?! I look up and he is a normal looking guy, not a crazy homeless person yelling random things.

"Excuse me?" I politely said, and he repeated himself.

Postive I must've heard him wrong I said,

"I'm sorry, WHAT?!"

"The pigeons," he said pointing, "they're disgusting!"

I laughed and told him what I thought he actually said and he laughed and kept walking!

Fine, maybe he isn't into Jewish/Italian 5'2 brunettes with grandpa glasses wearing pink pants, but if he was, he could've totally pulled a -

"I'm so sorry! My name is ________ let me make it up to you over coffee!"

And I would've accepted.

6.) Get a dog. I'm sorry. This is so cheap, but it's my list so I can do whatever I want. I just want to pet all the dogs in the world, if you have a dog, I will try to pet it. And then swoon because you named it Fang.

5.) Be kind hearted. Everytime I see a man give up his seat for an elderly person, buy a homeless guy food, run into the street to get a ball so kids don't, it melts my heart. I don't necessarily go up and tell them that, but still. It has an effect.
4.) Offer directions when I look lost. I'm always lost and my phone is always dead. And I don't mean in a creepy like,
"Ooh, where are you going, let me drive you there and then stand by the door to make sure you get in safe" because that is teriffying. I mean like when I am staring at the subway map for 10 minutes and you ask if I need some help, I really appreciate it, because trust me, I need all the help I can get.

The face says it all

3.) Tell me I'm wearing great shoes. (This is always foolproof, because I'm always wearing great shoes.)

2.)"I saw you across the room and I just couldn't help but come over and introduce myself."*

*I'm laughing at this one. It's a joke. But it wouldn't be too funny if someone actually did this.
1.) This one will blow your mind, ready?

"Hi, I'm ________ nice to meet you."



Be a man. Even Mulan could do it.



Rejection is scary, I get that, but most girls aren't going to throw a drink in your face if you simply ask her or tell her something non-threatening. If she isn't interested, she will most likely politely but shortly respond and go back to her business. IT'S JUST NOT THAT HARD!
And if my words aren't heeded... be warned

STILL not asking for it -- NSFW

SlutWalk!

I am a simple minded girl in very many ways.
Rape is rape is rape.
This is NOT difficult.

When I was moving/first moved, everyone and their mother (seriously, their actual mother) told me to "be careful".
Maybe they were telling me to be careful to not cross the street without looking. Or maybe to be careful to not eat too many delicious foods and get fat. Or maybe to be careful not to spend all of my money on shoes. Maybe, but probably not.
They were telling me to be careful to not get kidnapped/raped/sexually assaulted. And as silly as it might seem, it infuriates me each and every time. It warms my soul to know that people care for my general well-being, and I really do appreciate it, but there needs to be a cultural shift, like right now.

This post will be long and filled with pictures and angry words, so please stop reading right now if:
1.You are unable to understand the concept that RAPE IS RAPE and that it is not "Oh but we were really drunk so..."
2. You will be offended by somewhat graphic photos and some colorful language.
3.You disagree with me. Because you're wrong and I will come to wherever you are and prove it. With my fists.

I just read this article. I think I could probably read an article like this every day, because it happens every day. These stupid stupid girls go to these stupid stupid parties with their stupid stupid friends, get stupid stupid wasted, and get raped by stupid stupid boys.

I could have written the exact same sentence, but the final thought read "and have a stupid stupid hangover. The end."

Maybe someone told her to be careful, maybe someone lectured her about drinking and how in high school, "boys will be boys." Maybe.

Did anyone sit those two boys down at any point in their life and discuss what makes a rape a rape?
Did anyone ever tell them that if she is too drunk to say no, the answer is still no?No, I guarantee that not one moment of their privileged lives was spent like that. And this, my friends, is the problem.
These boys didn't even know that they were raping her. They didn't even know!
But even worse than that is what this girl will have to deal with. Maybe she will be lucky and everyone around her will understand. Maybe she'll never hear that she was "asking for it", or that it is in some way, shape, or form, her fault. Maybe.

preach!

SlutWalk!

When I get dressed in the morning, especially when I am going into the city, I intend on looking nice, not to catch the attention of men, but for my own self. I would most likely wear a form-fitting dress that flirts along the line of "probably-too-short-but-I-have-short-legs-so-it's-not-too-bad", I will most likely wear heels, and I will most likely wear enough make-up so that I do not appear to be in high school.

And sometimes, (most times), I stay out late, and I am almost always by myself, and so that means it's often 10:00 pm and I am en-route to catching my bus home and I am alone, in heels, and a short dress. And maybe I will pass by some man, and I am a kind person, so I would probably smile in a friendly way towards him.

Now, this man has a few options:


He can be a normal human being and smile back at me and continue on his way. 

He can be sleezy and look me up and down and cat-call me until I am too far to hear his advances.
Or, he can be a rapist.

And if he chooses to be a rapist, it is his fault, not mine. It is not my fault, for how I look, it is not my fault for walking around at night alone, and it is most certainly not my fault that this man is unable to restrain himself anymore than an animal.

If I were a man, I would be incredibly offended at the excuses of rapists. Offended that these men claim that they were unable to help themselves, or that they didn't realize. These are men who making other men appear to be impulsive, unintelligent, sex-crazed beasts.

But you are not that, men. You are smart, and you are good, and you are kind.
 Please stop letting these rapists give you all such a bad name.

This is a challenge to every man who is a father, or will someday become one. I am not saying to not teach your daughters to be safe. But please, teach your sons so that your daughters have nothing to fear. Every rapist is someone's son. Please, teach your son about respect, that it is so much more than just holding a door. That the "friendzone" isn't real. That just because you find a woman attractive and spend time with her, but she chooses not to sleep with you, does not mean she is wrong. Teach your son to love women, to not objectify them, to not hurt them. And you will do this best by leading by example.

I have been very fortunate in life, I have never been assaulted in any way, I am one of the lucky ones. I am careful, I rarely over drink, I don't go places with strangers, and I am one tough bitch if you start making unwanted advances. But, I shouldn't have to be. I should be able to wear what I want when I want how I want, drink enough to get blackout drunk every single night, and then, trust any person around me to ensure me to safety. I should be able to. But I can't. Because, for whatever reason, this photo exists. And it's okay. Because "boys will be boys", right?

I hope you can see that I am not male-bashing. But I am rape-bashing. Please, talk to your boys, show them this blog, show them the article I linked. Remind them that their mother was once a girl who drank too much at a party. That their sister could be walking home in the dark, but thinks she is safe because she is with a friend that she thinks she can trust. 

The world can change, & you can change it. No matter how strict the laws get, or who promises what in office, rape will occur. But maybe, just maybe, if we teach our boys to grow up to be real men, real, good men, maybe then the war on rape can finally end.

I think I should make clear, just so we all know, what rape really is.
Rape is when you walk down at alley at night and a strange man attacks you.
Rape is when you're friend walks you home because you've drank too much, tells you he loves you and when you don't feel the same, forces himself on you.
Rape is when you want to have sex, but just as you begin, change your mind and he won't listen.
Rape is when you are too drunk to say no.
Rape is when you are a child and he is not.
Rape is when you didn't say no, but you didn't want it and pushed him away.

Rape is when you don't want to have sex for any reason under any circumstance and someone forces you anyway.





Please, if this is, or was you. Don't stay silent. Tell a cop, tell your teacher, your mother, your friend, tell me. But you are never in the wrong, and it was never your fault. Not even a little.

I could seriously go on for days. I think I could have a blog devoted to just this, but I hope I have made my point. I was slightly joking about the whole "you'll get punched if you disagree" bit above. If you do disagree, I am genuinely interested to hear why, so please, come find me, I'd love to change your mind.

Happy for Deep People

DON'T BLINK!

That which I thought would crucify me did the complete opposite. Thank you.

Emotional nudity is terrifying. I described it to a friend as being naked in the middle of your high school football field during a home game. We are living in a time where it is so easy to hide, from not only everyone else, but from ourselves. Everyone wants to forget the bad, only ever be happy, and forgo the sadness of life. But there is so good that can come out of sadness. Think of all of the heart wrenching movies and incredibly sad songs you love. There is a bright side to every bad day.

So, I keep getting these beauty marks all over my torso, I've discovered maybe a half dozen in the past 5 years. I'm not much of a sun worshiper  so I'm not too nervous about that, but I was upset that my skin was becoming spotted! I would forget that I was upset, because I don't see them constantly, only when I'm naked. And, if you know me, you know how I feel about clothes, as in I don't want to wear them when I'm not in public. The more I was naked, the more I looked at these beauty marks, and I kind of started to like them a little. Then more. And now, if you're ever to ask me what my favorite physical trait about myself is, I might have to lift up my shirt and show you.

...and for anyone who thinks that they're funny, I'm not talking about my breasts.

So, get naked, just like Alanis recommended, because you might notice something new about yourself, but I can promise that you will learn something about yourself.

Completely unrelated disclaimer, but I have no idea who reads this or how far into the internet it gets, but I suddenly lost my job today, so if anyone in the NYC area knows of anything... hook a sister up, please, I have a slightly expensive lifestyle I need to maintain, aka, I'd like to keep buying my morning croissant and feel fancy.

I'm only a little bummed about losing this job, mostly because extreme poverty is only like 3 weeks away.

But I already spent a non-refundable $55 on an express bus pass, so I will spend the next two days terrorizing enjoying the city, this could get dangerous and I LAUGH IN THE FACE OF DANGER.

Awkward.

It is almost two a.m., and if it weren't the middle of the night, I'd have so much more sense than to be so awkwardly honest on the internet.

I've only ever fallen in love once. It took like 30 seconds. I had this dream, and in my dream God told me to go love this boy. I woke up and had forgotten all about it until I saw him at breakfast. I was hot and cold and nauseous and dizzy and terrified, and had no idea why. And then I remembered, and I loved him. And I was 16.

And many, many years passed, and many wonderful and terrible things happened. We were both very good to each other and we were both very awful to each other. I think, with the clarity of the hindsight, we loved each other so much that we didn't know what to do, we were so young. And as they say, you hurt the ones you love the most.

We loved too much. Yes, it is possible. It was all-consuming, intoxicating, and detrimental to our respective well-beings.

I have had the opportunity to spend the last two years, one month, 3 weeks & 3 days to figure out who was to blame. On the surface, him. In reality, me. I became a person that even I was unable to love, how was I to ask that of another?

I was born for two ultimate reasons, I was born to be an Artist, and I was born to be in love. And I had spent every waking moment of my life since birth chasing after those things with such a dark intensity that I couldn't see anything else. Every moment in my life was designed to amount to one of those two things. The day that I learned that the boy I loved, loved me as well... I still don't know the word for that moment.

I was so obsessed with love. With feeling it, giving it, receiving it, I forgot everything else. Because even though you can love too much, love is not always enough. I forgot to respect this boy that I loved, I forgot to both accept and give forgiveness. I forgot to be his biggest fan, the one person who he had when there was no one left. I forgot to give him the Grace we all so desperately need.
I was so young, maybe I just didn't know.

I am 23 now, and it has been 6 years 7 months and about three weeks. In 6 years, 7 months and about three weeks a lot can happen. A lot did happen. I know so much now that I couldn't have then, when I had the chance. I don't know if the wisdom came with age or with heartbreak. I know so much, I have grown so much. I wonder if this boy I loved, if he knew me now, could he love me again? Love who I have become? I have once again become the girl he loved so long ago.

It seems like it wasn't ever real, like everything happened that night during the dream, and I woke up two years ago to reality.
I have the same dream all the time, we find each other and are just terribly confused. "Why do you look so different?" "Why don't I recognize your voice?" We finally realize because X amount of time has passed, and then life goes on, as it once might have.

"It's like forgetting the words
to your favorite song,
you can't believe it,
you were always singing along."

This is so strange, and awkward, and maybe even dangerous to post. Just about everyone who has ever met me knows exactly who I am talking about. Have your opinion, say I am pathetic, or that I should get over it, or that I am a joke, you won't tell me anything I haven't told myself. So maybe, by writing this piece of public humiliation, someone else will benefit from it, because I probably won't.

Do not be ashamed of who you are, how you feel, or who you love.

Pretty Girls vs Girls Who Are Pretty

You might have heard this speech before, I kind of tell it a lot. It is the story of the Pretty Girls versus the Girls Who Are Pretty.

Pretty Girls are the arch nemeses of Taylor Swift in all of her music videos. They are Pretty because of their power. They are Pretty because they have something that you don't. It doesn't matter what it is, it could be their weight, their hair, their talents, their social status, but they have it and you don't. They are Pretty because of The Cheerleader Effect (coined from HIMYM). They are confident, they prey on you, sad girl in the corner with a book. Or you, girl who can't walk in heels properly, or you, girl who would rather spend your Saturday night watching Doctor Who than taking shots of Tequila.

They hold the power, because we let them, we Girls Who Are Pretty. Being Pretty is not a physical trait, not really. It isn't super hard to take someone who looks "plain" and fix their hair/makeup/outfit, and declare them Pretty, just look at Cinderella.

There was a show on TV during 2004 called The Swan. It was horrific. They found women who were "ugly" and made them "Pretty", and by Pretty, I mean completely unrecognizable due to a TON of cosmetic surgeries. At the end of it, the "winner" received  a modeling contract, a designer wardrobe, a week in Honolulu, Hawaii, a weekend in Las Vegas, $50,000 educational scholarship at Western International University, $10,000 of personal coaching, A 2004 Jaguar, $50,000 cash... JUST FOR BECOMING PRETTY. 

But, less about them, more about us.
Us Girls Who Are Pretty. And we ARE Pretty, I mean, physically Pretty, even though maybe we don't all know it. We are the girls who spent our adolescence in the mirror mimicking the Pretty Girls, trying to befriend them, analyze them, become them. But really, we were Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed, tripping up the stairs on her way back into high school. And maybe you're still Drew Barrymore and you still trip up the stairs, and that is ok. Because even if you can walk up the stairs like a normal person, that won't make you Pretty.

But I can tell you what will. Loving who you are will make you Pretty. Being kind to others will make you Pretty. Reading books and learning as much as you can about everything you can will make you Pretty. Surrounding yourself with people who love you for tripping up the stairs will make you Pretty.

This is not a Pretty Girl bash. And this is truly nothing about physical traits. You can be incredibly beautiful, and still not be a Girl Who is Pretty. Pretty Girls are Mean Girls. Their beauty is hurtful and they just it to put others down to put themselves up. If you're reading this, and you're a Mean Girl, at least be this kind of Mean Girl.

I could go on and on about what makes one Pretty, but I just feel that this explains it the best.

But, if not, this will.

-Amy Pond, Doctor Who

What do you do with a B.A. in English?

"What do you do, with a B.A. in English? What is my life going to be?

Four years of college, and plenty of knowledge have earned me this useless degree.

I can't pay the bills yet, 'cuz I have no skills yet, the world's just a big scary place.

But somehow I can't shake the feeling I might make a difference to the human race."

                                                                                           -Avenue Q

I quote this constantly, because it is incredibly applicable to my life, and is the story of why I am moving to New York in 10 days.

We children of the 90's have grown up with such an amazing mentality, we don't believe in living to work, but working to live. We think that the world is ours for the taking, that the limit is truly the moon. To us, social, economical, racial, gender status is not inhibiting. We want everything, and then more, and I think it is fantastic.

The world to our parents and grandparents was so much stricter. They were born into a life that they would probably live until they died. If their father was a blue collar worker with a family business, then the son would grow up and take it over, it didn't matter if he wanted to do something else. College was for the elite, not for the dedicated. Women were, and are still, primarily mothers and secretaries, (some other day I will discuss how motherhood is a wonderful thing, but it doesn't mean it is the only option), but we have come so far.  

So now, we all grow up with these dreams bigger than we are, and we go to college, no idea what those dreams even are or what they mean, but we have them, and then, we graduate, some of us have a plan, most of us don't.

To those of you who know your dreams, congratulations, you are light years ahead of the rest of us, who are just wandering around.

To those of you who don't, you're lying. You know, maybe you're afraid, (read: Nicole), but you know. You know if you want to quit you're well-paying job and go back to school and teach little kids, you know if you want to say eff it and audition for American Idol, YOU KNOW.

So, in one of my dream worlds, I am a writer. I am funny, and witty, and people don't mind that I am slightly whiny and self-obsessed (jk) (jk about jk), and so I started a blog. In another one of my dream worlds, I am a New Yorker, and so in 10 days I am moving, to New York.

I don't know what I can do, I don't know who I will be, I don't even know what I will be,

but somehow I can't shake the feeling I might make a difference to the human race.

I challenge you to realize your dream, and realize what is stopping you. (This is a YOLO moment, FYI)

When someone asks me about my move, I usually answer by saying that I am making a mistake no matter what I do. Leaving Delaware where my life is safe, comfortable, where I have a good, stable job, is a total mistake. But spending the rest of life never going after one of my oldest and biggest dreams, for no reason but fear, would also be a mistake, and it is the mistake I would rather be making.

As Elphaba once said, Everyone deserves the chance to fly!