The World We Live In...

I really should have titled this blog "Bitchfest" because that's exactly how I intend on using it. 

Yes, I know, I really ought not, but I look around the world, and as a twenty-something, I can't help but feel that this world is circling the drain faster than we can attempt to save it. 

Last friday, (February 25th, for those that don't know what day of the week it is today...) was a sad day for my generation. No, no one important died (that I know of, though, I'm sure many important people died), but at my school, a California State school--a friggen University for christ sake, one girl had no idea who Charles Manson was, and boy had to be taught what respect was...oye....

So, for those who care, Charles Manson's lawyer has petitioned President Obama for release...to me, and hopefully to millions of other Californians, this is a big deal. Charles Manson, the famed cult leader, who initiated the death of many people in horrendous ways, wants out. And there are some who have no idea why he is important or why his release would be huge. Hell, they don't even care to know who he is.  Don't worry, I'm sure they don't know much else about the world they live in, I'd be surprised if they could tell you who the president is, or where we're at war, or why North Korea is a hot area right now. Sad.

Now, the boy...oh, this kid...okay, at first appearance this kid seems to be about 17 years old (he's actually 22!), he's mostly oblivious, and extremely awkward. But, last friday, it was cold here (I know, California! It actually gets a bit chilly here on occasion), but due to the chill, most of us had withdrawn into the hallways to wait for our classes as being outside seemed a non-option. So, we're waiting, and there's another class in session and a person in the class gets up to leave and the professor calls him out on being rude and interrupting his class etc. I was cheering the professor on! There were, maybe, twenty minutes left in class, and most classes are only fifty minutes to start with, and this kid, who was sitting in front, gets up to leave, gets called out, and still leaves.  Now, out in the hallway, myself and this boy who is waiting with me, and we hear the entire exchange between professor and student going on inside the classroom. The boy, aghast at the professors display, comments on how unnecessary it was of the professor to do that to the student.

My jaw drops. I am in shock. I look up at the imbecile standing in front of me, wondering quietly how he got into the same university I did, and I defend the professor. My logic says, the professor comes in to teach students, and when one jerk student wants to leave half way through class he's interrupting the rest of the students who might actually want their money's worth. The kid retorts with, "But this is college!". I'm still lost. I continue to explain to him, that yes, it is college, and it's an expensive college, should the student not want to attend his classes he has a few options, he can simply not attend his classes and just show up for tests (which is fairly common), he can suck it up and go to his classes like the rest of us, or he can drop out and save himself (more likely, his parents) a shit ton of money and his fellow students some grief from having to be interrupted by his rudeness. At this point I've lost my classmate who doesn't understand why it's rude to walk out on a professor or why the student should just either not show up or suck it up for the whole fifty minutes. I try to relate it to him with if he's talking to someone and the person just walks away mid-sentence how that would be rude to him, and professors should get more respect that some friend or acquaintance. Here, they have to have a doctorate to teach. That means these professors lived in poverty for YEARS just to be able to teach here, just to be called Doctor (which, by the way, this kid calls our professor who has a doctorate in geology, mister...nails on a friggen chalk board!). Eventually the kid just walks away from me, still lost, still disagreeing with me. And for me, my inner Marine just wants to curb stomp his self-righteous, disrespectful little ass. Just me?

I wish I could stop there, but I could go on and on. Girl on the radio station I listen to in the mornings didn't know what The Donner Party was, and, to make matters worse, thought it was the old school game Oregon Trail...this is the world we live in. The world we're continuing. I see all of this, I read the news, and suddenly my biological clock stops ticking. How can I, in good conscious, bring a child into this world? This world has ceased to value intelligence, exploration, morals, dignity, education, insight...anything and everything I was taught was good and right. Instead, society as a whole, values reality TV, abhorrent behavior, disrespect, binge drinking, plastic surgery, mockery, self-indulgence...everything that I've always thought was wrong, been told to avoid. How can one bring a new child into a culture that values disrespect and self-indulgence, that has lost it's mind, that disrespects teachers, police officers, firemen and the military, that shuns all research that could save us? I don't want my child to be a part of that. I don't know if I can bring a new soul into that world. But, this is sadly, the world we live in. 

So, where should I move? Antarctica? Sweden? Some small hole in the side of a mountain where I can start some from of communal living that is away from all of this tainted energy, perhaps? I don't know. But, I dread the day that my generation, (the ones who love Jersey Shore and help the idiots on it become millionaires), come into power and take the presidency. That will be the definitive end of the world.

Enough

Enough is enough is enough. And 7 years is enough. I can see the mistakes I have made clearly, and though I do not, necessarily, regret the decisions I've made, I understand how they were not the brightest decisions of my life. 

I have lived in a "relationship" (I'm using the term as loosely as possible here) where I don't know when we're "on again", but I'll surely know when we're "off again", and none of it is up to me.  Where I can be left, time and time again, and suddenly be "taken" without my consent. I have allowed this to happen. I have allowed this one man to dictate the terms of our friendship, of our relationship in whole. From what we do in our collective free time to what what time we spend together and how. I have never had a say. And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being labeled the liar when I have done no such thing. The "difficult" one, when I am overly appeasing. The time has come when I "woman-up" and take charge. With that charge, I will have it no more. 

I would never say I am the be-all-and-end-all of girlfriends. I am no such person. I would never confess that I am the most open and loving of people as I am not that person either. However, I am extraordinarily giving, flexible, and willing to please. Never have I had that returned to me. Never have I not been the one to compromise to his want, need, requirement. Never have I put my needs or wants before his. But still, my life has been dictated, carefully constructed by this man. And I think it's bullshit. I have put myself through things I am, in no way, comfortable with. I have taken time to learn about his hobbies and interests. I have sat through countless movies that I couldn't care less about, and all of these things rest on my shoulders. I can't blame him for taking advantage of the situation. Most have done exactly what he has done. But, I promise this much. It will stop. 

And so the chase begins as does the transformation. I will stop being the one who is easily walked on.  I will stop being the compliant one. I am, for the first time, going to look out for number one and say "FUCK OFF" to all the rest. I'm going to be the person I should have been for quite some time now. And if you don't like it, you are more than welcome to go away.

I quit.

I quit. Now, I'm not generally a quitter by any means, but today, well last night anyway, I quit. 

I quit being someone who apologizes for being myself. I quit being the person who allows people to walk up and down her spine (and not for therapeutic reasons). I quit being the one who always does the dishes, who always cleans the house, who always tidies and maintains when I don't mess up nearly as much as other people. I quit silencing myself for the sake of others, when they simply will not do the same for me. I quit. 

I quit saying I'm sorry at all, I'm not. I quit living by someone elses rules. I quit meeting people on their side of the line, because they don't know how to compromise. I quit pretending to be something I'm not, to like something I don't, to make someone else happy. I quit laughing at stupid jokes and pretending I'm not offended. I quit grinning through my teeth when I'm screaming inside. I quit.

I've always played by the rules and I can't really say I've enjoyed it. I've always been the one people can depend on, without depending on anyone. I've always fixed my problems, managed my life, and done things someone elses way, and as of now - I quit.

If you can read this, thank a teacher.

Two blogs in a day! It must be a manic Monday, and I am riled up!!

It seems that we are in a time of pointing fingers were they ought not be pointed. Now, we get to blame teachers for the scores their students get, without considering the fact that the student has responsibility and the parents have a responsibility. Might I just say, this is ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT?? Come on! I can sit through a class, and not pay attention...I can go home and not study...these things will cause me to do poorly in school...that would be MY fault, not the teachers. I could have had parents who didn't care if I did my homework, but I, luckily, had parents who didn't have a problem harassing the shit out of me until my homework was done, then checking it for me, and being there for me while I was doing it so if I had any questions they could answer them. Had I had parents who didn't give a damn about my homework and never checked...yeah, I probably would have not done it, and thus done poorly! Oh my holy grilled cheesus!! COME ON!

Now, in this country, (and I hope my sister reads this!) we have a president who intends on holding teachers accountable for their students test scores. Even grade school teachers...so, we're not just discussing teachers instructing honors classes and not teaching anything when the students are willing and eager to learn, we're talking all teachers, in every school, in every facet. Obama, wants to fire all the bad teachers, now I'll give it to him, I've had bad professors that were tenured and didn't give a rip and stopped teaching and would, instead, use their classroom as their personal soapboxes. These classrooms were political platforms for the professors who were in charge. But, in grade school and high school...my teachers (even the ones I really didn't like) taught the material and it was up to me as to whether I was paying attention or not, whether I did the homework or not, whether I studied or not. You want to know why it's professors who don't give a rip and teachers who kind of have to? It's really quite simple.

Kindergarten through twelfth grade is mandatory attendance in this country for all kids under the age of 18, still following? Ok, so all these little booger eaters have to be dropped of by their parents and attend school...and I don't know if you've noticed, (I've been told about it all my life), but kids now-a-days are ASSHOLES! They really are. Starting at about 6 years old, kids now are these tiny little shits that you aren't suppose to punish anymore, you're not suppose to scold or chastise and they know it. They are told they are little princes and princesses and they get what they want because we give it to them. Heaven forbid you swat your child for being an asshole in a store. That's damaging to their self esteem! Everyone wants their child to grow up knowing how special he or she is, they want them to be eternally happy and gleeful. We don't want to put the fear of god in them with a hand, belt, spoon, soap in the mouth, Tabasco sauce...no, we need to calmly ask them to behave and offer them a reward...Why am I bringing all of this child bashing up? Because you drop your turd of a child off at some poor grade school teachers class and for the next 8 hours that teacher gets paid this tiny little amount to try and corral him and 30 others just like him into desks and oh-so-kindly tell them to shut the fuck up while this stressed-out, sleep-deprived, under-paid teacher attempts to force information through their ADD riddled little heads...day after day...

Oh, and don't worry. Should anything happen, and the teacher accidentally hurt poor little jerkwad Timmy's feelings, the administration that the teacher works under will take your side, because the parent is always right and we want kids to feel good about themselves!

Perfect example. My father was the boys PE teacher...now, 'PE' stands for PHYSICAL EDUCATION...we all on the same page? Okay, so my dad, taught high-schooler's...(have you met a 15 year old boy you liked?) all day, 5 days a week, and these, I'm sure lovely boys, would tell people how mean my dad was for wanting them to change into their gym clothes and try...just try to run a few laps...participate...in PHYSICAL EDUCATION...and anytime the administration would get wind of my fathers, obviously ridiculous, terms for running his class, they would side with the parents and the student. Now, my dad was kind of the "mean guy" on campus...but think for just a second...he taught 15 year old boys for 20+ years and he's old school discipline...so yeah, he got a reputation, but one that was completely undeserved. You're kids in PE class, trying is kind of mandatory. Just me?

Want yet another example? Got it! My mom teaches third grade, and the administration has told all teachers that scolding and punishing kids should be avoided at all cost. The principal of the school wants every kid to come out of her office smiling. Kid....sent to the principals office....comes out smiling??? Really??? Guess what that kid was just taught by going to the office? They were taught that whatever they did to get sent there in the first place was not bad. For a punishment to be effective it must be moderate to severe. That is an absolute fact.

So, Obama want's to punish teachers...he wants to hold them accountable...fine, but give teachers what they need: Shock collars on every student (fine, maybe something less severe, but options for punishing students), report cards for the parent as well as the child, smaller and more manageable class sizes, school supplies, reinstate special education classes (yeah, some have been cut completely and those children are now in the regular classes...), and cut the whole 'no child left behind' crap. If a child is legitimately handicapped, he or she can have a sliding scale, if your child is of average intelligence but never wants to do anything, let him stay in third grade until he's 18 and drops out, maybe eventually the embarrassment will inspire him to learn the material. If you have a teacher who has their entire class fail...sure...evaluate them, make sure their doing their job. But DO.NOT. hold the teacher solely responsible, when they really don't have a lot to work with.

I dreamed a dream...

Because, really, what else am I going to dream? Am I going to dream something that isn't a dream? Granted, there are nightmares, but those are still dreams...they are just bad dreams....But that is neither here nor there...well it might be there...but again, not where I'm going so we'll move on.
I had a princess dream. Now, one would assume that someone as bitter and jaded as I am would stop having these silly and juvenile dreams, but I had this dream. I can take a step back, I can remove my self from the equation, remove my childhood and my socialization history and say that Princess Dreams are ridiculous, not worth the time you spend dreaming them! They are the antithesis of reality. What I mean to say is that in most girls' realities there will be no prince in shiny armor who will slay dragons simply to impress you, there is no dashing hero who will sweep you off your feet, do anything to keep you from crying or feeling one single negative emotion-ever. This man DOES.NOT.EXIST. 
Please feel free to take a moment, if you have not already done so in your life, to cry, become extremely angry with your parents for lying to you...etc. I'm sorry for slapping you in the face with this shitty little thing called reality. I don't like it either. 
I can say that this specific man does not exist, I fully believe he does not exist. He is a myth formed to keep little girls proper and demure: perfect little kitchen inhabiting-house wife material. But I could say this all day. It doesn't change the fact that I was raised to believe in 'true love' (a term that I have since learned to loathe) and fairy-tales, and men being men and worshiping women just because he's suppose to. This is crap. This is that Santa debacle all over again with our parents. Little boys are not raised to be men like that anymore. Little boys are coddled and become large, emotionally unstable, dismissive, confused, lost men who don't know the very definition of their gender anymore, because they don't want to know the definition anymore. Traditional gender values have been tossed aside.
Men don't want to be "Men" anymore, they want the title and the perks with out the responsibility. They want to bitch about women in the work place and make catty comments about how a woman's place is in the home (read: kitchen) raising the kids, but he doesn't want to buckle down and get a job that he might not absolutely adore just because he has to take care of his family. He wants a fun job that may or may not  pay the bills. He doesn't want all the responsibility. He wants all the fun. He wants to work a few hours then come home and veg out watching TV or playing some new shoot-em-up video game while his wife has worked the same hours, then come home to tend their children, make dinner, clean the house, and comfort her, emotionally 8 years old, husband. 
Now, I'll admit, I am criticizing men.  But really, I am criticizing the social idea of what being a man is. This ludicrous notion that we implant into the social psyche but have ceased to further by any sense of requirement. Women are still expected to be mothers and caregivers, we are still required to be soft and demure, delicate and feminine, but men are no longer expected to be bread winners, they are no longer expected to be Mr. Fix-it around the house or lavish their wife (girl-friend, fiancee...whatever) with any kind of adoration, and they are still not expected to be doting fathers. Now, we give them a leash, but are still restrained ourselves. 
I call bullshit on the entire thought. Here I am, struggling with the concept that children might not be in my future because most men don't have jobs that pay the bills, and I need more schooling to get that job, Logically I can't have kids until after that job is safely mine, and I'm established there...and all of that comes after school. Men don't understand (no matter how often we try to explain to their poor little "we can't empathize" brains) that women have a very distinct expiration date as far as children are concerned. Men can go on, into their sixties, seventies, and later and still father children...women, are not so lucky. But if we should ever mandate marriage, hell, even bring up the subject, we are scorned. If we try to discuss options with the man who wants to play rock-star until he's forty, we are chastised...we simply cannot win.  
I say, "Women, let them go." I know, a bit harsh, right? But seriously. If women just banned together, stopped dealing with the bullshit that is man, and team together, commune to raise kids I fully believe we could do it alone (Artificial Insemination...can I get an amen?)
But, then again. Who would do all the heavy lifting?


**This is just a rant about society. I realize it is a bit harsh, and I promise you'll live.**

T minus a month or so...

Do you smell that? That clean, crisp new scent in the air? It's not the rain, it's the smell of a fresh start right around the corner. I, for one, could not be more thrilled for the refreshing change. Meticulous planning and careful purchases will help create a woman's domain: candles, pyramid trunk, vintage artsy room divider, 4 post bed...I, sincerely, cannot wait for the time when I can go home, and not only have it be my home, but have it be quiet and calm. I will be able to watch what I want, when I want, without the masculine griping and moaning. I will be able to study without having to remind anyone that I'm doing so. I might just have peace at last!

This does not come without abject fear. Leaving the pseudo comfort of a life on hold, of someone always being there when you get home. All of this will disappear as soon as I leave. But if I don't leave, I may never. I've seen woman after woman become content with men that don't treat them well enough, who settle for the sake of settling...out of fear or some crazy sense of social pressure. I don't want to be one of those women. I don't want to settle because I am too afraid. I want to live. Even if it means alone--eff it! I'll live alone in a bad-ass apartment!

Crunchy Peanut Butter

Crunchy Peanut Butter - no I'm not particularly hungry, in fact I just ate a deliciously spicy salad, not that information on my eating habits are a draw to this blog, but more to the point Crunchy Peanut Butter (obviously the better of the peanut butter choices...) is an experience to masticate. One that, I've recently noticed, many are not up to. BUT! Here is what separates the daring crunchy peanut butter lovers from their soft and subtle creamy counterparts: Crunchy peanut butter eaters can deal with almost anything.

No, that is not an indecisive distinction. That is an important fact. Crunchy peanut butter is filled with adventure, every bite a different texture, some more exciting, some less, but we, the adventurous crunchy lovers can deal with whatever comes our way! Creamy peanut butter is bland - the flavor seems to be there, but with none of the risk of falling upon some devilish nut on a harry mission. This is the safe route. It is the food equivalent to calling yourself well traveled because you've read travel guides. IT.IS.BORING. And those who favor the bland texture over the bold can't deal with the occasional rifts in the valley of life. They travel the road well traveled, well maintained: they prefer their peanuts chewed for them.

The Cliffs of Insanity

Who came up with the word "blog"? Maybe it's just me, but it kind of sounds like a communicable disease of some kind. "Oh, watch out for Tom, he's got the blog..." It just seems to be a really strange word. I'm sure if I really cared enough I could research the history of "blog", but I guess that's why I'm starting this blog to begin with; I've ceased to care.

As humans, we try, immensely hard, to care or at least to pretend to care, but in reality, we only truly care about number one, the self. After a while, even that fades. As we grow; we drink, smoke, curse, punch, speed...and eventually run ourselves down. There is no second to stop and take a deep breath, no matter how often we preach to do so, we are simply too busy to give a damn, too rushed by societal impulses and standards--and so I, like those before me, just stop trying to give that damn. 

There is rarely a significant how or why these things happen, it is the wear of the tread, the erosion of the rock..."one of those things". We live, we learn, we cower, we stop trying and suddenly as if our eyes were closed to the entire event, we just don't care anymore. But we should.  

I'm not writing on here because I think my little, vastly-insignificant words will move someone or thrust me forth into some unmentionable fame, I am writing here to attempt this climb that I gave up so long ago. I looked upon these cliffs and surrendered once: I bowed my head and submitted to their greatness. But...I cannot surrender forever. I cannot diminish my potential merely out of some odd societal pressure to withdraw your arms and curtsy politely. 

Maybe there is yet an ember left inside me.