Wednesday, December 18, 2013

the science of self-esteem

I mean, we've all been there.

We spend an hour getting ready. Three days not eating after 8pm. We stand in front of the Evil Mirror and try to squash every little imperfection we see so when we finally make it to that party or that event or that show, we can feel "good" whatever the hell that means. 

We put layers on our face so we can hide the way we hate our skin. We straighten and flatten and gloss everything over so we can feel HOT.

but like am iiiii??????

 Then we roll up to the party or whatever like we are FIERCE.

We have an expectation vs. reality moment.

We know that that person we've been hoping to run into will be there. So we have it planned out - we're going to go for a drink at the same time. We'll say something witty - ("I'll have a rum and coke......a COLA, my GAWD, I'm not a monster!!!")
The person will laugh and notice us....finally.

  Yes, it's me. That girl you've been noticing here and there all month. And yes we're finally in the same room. And yes, I'm funny and cute and charming. And yes, I would love to get coffee sometime and talk about our favorite books and why we wish literary characters could be real people.


  We get so nervous. We check ourselves in Evil Mirror ten times to make sure we still look the way we think we're supposed to. We don't eat anything and we talk to our friends but our eyes keep moving around the room. 

And then that person walks in with their friends and they look on point.

Hi I'm Nathan Fillion and I'm so handsome it's StUpId~*~~* 

And then this is it! This is the moment! You're going to woo them with your brain and this new dress you slipped on and you imagine Hall & Oates starts playing and I don't know maybe there's wind or some shit but ugh that would definitely be a cliche --

And then, and then!

The person passes you. The music is loud, the person offers you a little grin and they talk to someone else the whole night. Maybe your friend circles never intersect, maybe they hit it off with a girl who's way skinnier than you or not it doesn't matter but you notice everything, maybe you never get the courage, maybe everything just absolutely sucks.

You mentally check out for the rest of the party, you drive home blaring Awolnation and you think, "At least I have Netflix. At least I have The Office on queue and everything will be okay because I'm just season 3 Pam Beasley, right? RIGHT?" 

 Then the dark thoughts start to come in. 

"WHY am I such an idiot?"

"Why am I ugly?"

"Why am I not COOOOOL?!?!?"

And then we realize we are freaks and go home and go to sleep and text our friends and they tell us to listen to Beyonce and we'll feel better and then we move on.

I feel like this is a pretty normal scenario but also it's like, definitely not okay. I'm not saying this is the case for everyone, but I mean it definitely happens to me. And I don't want to have my self-esteem all over the place based off of other people. 

This is a thing I'm learning. This is a hard thing I'm learning that is REALLY REALLY HARD TO UNDERSTAND. 

My self-worth is not based on other people.

But it's true.

Our self-worth is not based on other people.

I think eventually I just have to let it go. I have to let it go how I want other people to perceive me and I have to know what is true inside of me. I have to know there are good things about me and there are bad things about me and that's the same for everyone. 

Sometimes living in Los Angeles is a little hard (A LOT HARD) because everything is based off of status and how you look and who you're friends with and labels and all that basic shit. But at the end of the day you have to take a step back and know that your self-worth isn't gauged by any of that.   

I want my self-worth to be gauged by something bigger than material and shallow things and I realize this will be a life-long struggle but the point is to try. To know the core of who I am isn't based off of how I look or if I have a lot of money.

I mean these are really elementary ideas that I am not responsible for thinking of but they're things I seriously have to remind myself. 

Self-esteem is this weird thing we're taught when we're little. We're taught to have good self-esteem and it's such a weird concept. We're told when we're little that we're beautiful and perfect and great at everything but I mean, seriously, those are bold-faced lies. And then we grow up and normal life happens and somewhere along the line we're like DAMN. This is hard and I don't feel good about myself, like, hardly ever.

I'm not writing a post about trying to make ourselves feel better, I am just writing about what it's like to sometimes hate the person you are and sometimes love the person you are. And I think it's all just a part of being HUMAN.

Which is cool. Being human is cool, right? Obviously it'd be cooler to be half-human half-someone with super powers, but I mean I'll take being human. And I guess I'll talk all the stuff that comes with it.

* * * 


Tuesday, December 10, 2013

the issue with stuff

I don't know how to start off this post because talking about something like racial stereotypes and profiling and cultural ignorance stresses me out. Part of me feels like I'm not smart enough to talk about it, but I'm going to because it's something that's heavy on me and what else is the internet for other than pouring out your inner dialogue?

I wanted to write this because Chanelle posted on facebook a Buzzfeed article about microagressions. 
It's sick that these things still exist and we see it everyday - whether it's someone saying to another person, "But you don't act black" or "For an Asian person you're a good driver" or "But you look white" -- y'all, this is not okay. Right? RIGHT?

I was talking to Chanelle about this after we both read the article. It made me think.

I will never have to go through what my father went through because I don't "look Puerto Rican." It's this strange dichotomy of having something in your blood and yet being so far removed from it. My father didn't teach my sisters and I Spanish because, why would he? He was tortured when he was young and beat up and jumped because he was a Puerto Rican man. Why would he want to teach his daughters to speak Spanish if it was something he had to repress?

I grew up in a household that simultaneously celebrated our Hispanic culture but also was very much removed from it. I am a Puerto Rican woman. Yet when people say things like, "But you don't look Puerto Rican." Like what the fuck does that even MEAN? I am so removed from a culture that is mine but isn't at the same time.

There's this weird pressure. Like a few weeks ago I was asked to perform on an all-Latina improv team. I was so excited because duh that's awesome. And when I went up on stage with them I thought, "Oh SHIT. Everyone here probably thinks I'm faking it. That I'm not actually Hispanic."

HOLD UP. 1. Stop it. 2. STOP IT SELF.

Why do we think like this? You'd think hey, it's 2013. People are over thinking so small. LOLOLLLLL. 

It's real and it exists. And I'm just writing this from my own perspective. I went through this phase in like middle school where I didn't want anyone to know I was Puerto Rican. A boy in my sixth grade class asked me, "What are you? Are you mixed?" and I don't know why it scared me but it did. I forced my mom to iron my hair with a real straight up iron for clothes. I tried to stuff it really deep down.

And then I went through a phase in high school where I was like, "Shit. I'm Puerto Rican. This is COOL." And I tried to like, tap into it more but it felt so far away and then I got scared and thought, "I can't be accepted into Hispanic culture because I'm too white."

It's just bizarre, right? Why do we have to mold ourselves into any kind of label? Why, as a 12 year old, was I embarrassed that someone thought I was Hispanic? Already at 12 years old my mind was shifted to think, "I must blend in. I must blend in. I must blend in." I would think, "I'm half Puerto Rican so that means I'm ok! I'm only half!!!!" 

Dumb. Dumb dumb dumb. I'm just as proud of my Italian side as I am of anything.

And then when you call someone out for saying something like, "That guy talks so white!" you're the asshole. You're the asshole who takes everything TOO seriously and is TOO offended. Okay. Yeah. 

I don't care if I'm the asshole blogging about race. Whatever.

Monday, December 2, 2013

heart of darkness

It starts out as a little dark spot somewhere on me. I can feel it but it's so small I ignore it and I go about my day - I text friends, do my work, go to lunch, go home, watch Netflix. It's there the entire time and I feel it but it's easy to ignore. I can still run, I can still drink coffee, I can still say hi to people and have conversations and the little darkness hovers but it's avoidable and I stuff it deep down to a place where no one else can see.

Over time the darkness begins to prod me a little and it's not as easy to ignore. I wake up one day and it's now spread and it's maybe covering my shoulder, or all ten of my fingers and I blanch a little when I notice it's spread. I panic, covering it up with a sweater or gloves or letting my hair fall over it. I can't ignore it anymore but I'm still hiding it from everyone. No one else can see it so I think I'm okay. I can do this. I can act normal. No one can see the darkness.

Days pass and slowly the more I ignore the darkness the more it spreads. It spreads so much that it covers all of me and now I can't go out. I can't talk to people, I can't be myself because I am engulfed and there's no hiding it, no denying it. It's there and real and it's part of me now, it's who I am and it's the first thing anyone can see when they look at me.

I tuck away under my covers, pull them over my head and for a fleeting shallow moment I believe the lie that I'm okay. That even though it's all over me, this veil, that I'm fine, I'm fine. Not a big deal. Tomorrow I'll wake up and it'll be gone. 

I lay awake at night, heart beating and racing and palms sweating and I see the sliver of moon peeking through my window. A little light cutting through the dark room.

I am so ashamed says a little voice in my head. I am lost and I don't know where to go.

The moon grows brighter and I continue to hide.

* * *

The moment you realize you don't think you know what you believe anymore, it's a scary one. You feel like you messed up. So you shut down. You sit in church and stare at the pastor and you try to listen to what he's saying but it's really hard.

You kinda feel like you're in Charlie Brown land when the adults talk and all you hear is WAHH WAHH WAH WAH WAHH. 

So you zone out and smile and sing the worship songs and mingle after the service and go home and stop thinking about it.

You go to community group but you feel isolated.  Because everything feels trite. Because sayings like "guarding your heart" and "Lord just help me be thankful for this season" don't make sense to you and there are sugary smiles and the same discussions and you sit there and you feel like a freak. You have this darkness all over you and you don't think anyone can see it. When they ask for prayer requests you press your lips together because hell no, you're not letting anyone know you feel depressed or confused or how you inwardly roll your eyes.

You become cynical. The anger, the hurt, the confusion, it grips your heart really really tightly. You stop hanging out with your friends who share the same faith because you're scared that if you say a cuss word or you drink too much or you talk about something they don't agree with that you think they'll judge you. That they'll tell you you don't know God loves you and their heart weeps for you.

So you avoid them. And the anger grows and grows until you raise a giant middle finger at the whole thing and you feel good.

And that lasts for like, a second. And then you're sitting at home and you still have that hole in your chest. You thought separating yourself and isolating yourself would make you feel better. Actually, it just made you feel alone. And you find yourself at a potluck for church and you find yourself tentatively opening up to one of your "judgemental Christian friends" and they look at you and understand and you're so taken aback that they aren't immediately laying hands on you and you're confused. They weren't supposed to understand. They were supposed to make you feel awful and justified in your anger!

You carry this confusion with you. You sit in church again and you try to listen but it's still hard but you start to feel like maybe you are part of the problem.

Maybe no one seems to care because you haven't let anyone care. Because you've been pushing them away for so long.

You flip through old journals, you look at old blog posts and you see how much you trusted God. You look at that girl and you miss her but she's just a naive idiot, right?

You fill your days with things and stuff and distractions so you can try to stuff it all down, all of these insecurities and questions, but they keep lingering about. And you feel a little "tap tap" on your shoulder and you know it's God but you ignore Him.

You ignore Him to the point where you can't feel Him and then you're scared.

It's like when you tease someone with a break up because you think they won't actually go anywhere. "Maybe we should just break up!" you shout and instead of falling to their knees, begging you to stay, they shrug and say "Okay" and then you are left lonelier than before.

But even though you can't feel Him, you know, so deep down, God is there. He's there but you don't want Him but He's not leaving. 

You find yourself kneeling at church and you feel this emotional barrier come crashing down and you realize you've been unfair. You've projected your own self-hate and anger onto others who were around you. 

You realize you are angry at the Christian community because you're angry at yourself. 

I realized I have been angry at the Christian community because I've been angry at myself. 

* * * 

"I can do this," I tell myself.. "Remember, you used to do this all the time. Get it together girl."

I fold my hands in my lap, closing my eyes, breathing deeply and steadily. I haven't prayed in a long time. It feels a little foreign but it also feels like maybe this is what I've been created to do. 

"Ummmm," I begin. 

"I'm really really really really....." the last really falls off and I drop my hands and I stand up from kneeling.

"I am an idiot," I say quietly. "And I'm sorry. And I'll always, always love you."

Talking to God like this feels normal and natural and I know, so deeply, that there is no doubt that God is real. I think it's beautiful He created us to be the most complex creatures and I am so thankful He gave me a brain to question and hurt and think. 

And I'm so glad He never goes away.

* * *

Friday, November 29, 2013

why Frozen made me cry (spoilers)

This morning I crawled out of my food-induced slumber from yesterday's feast and Chanelle & I trekked to Santa Monica to see Disney's 'Frozen.'

I will always love Disney movies because despite their plot holes (Belle, you freak a leak you fell in love with a beast who is keeping you a prisoner, Ariel you a dumb idiot let's be honest) because overall love is their theme and we can all appreciate love and feeling good, right?

Well Frozen was gorgeous. Not just visually but the story actually made me cry. And sure, I cry easily but this was a different level because it was so moving. Because it wasn't about romantic love. It was about the love between sisters and how it was enough to save lives.


my sissy Rebecca (L) & Christina (far right)  (rebecca just got engaged!!!)
A sister story? Done. Completely unraveled. Maybe it's because my sisters are my best friends. Maybe it's because I'm 3,000 miles away from my family and it's the holidays and one of my sisters just got engaged and everything is just changing and moving and it's beautiful but like, I think if I feel anymore my heart is going to fly out of my chest.

There's something so special about the bond between sisters. 

When we were really little we loved each other because quite honestly we didn't know any better. And then we got a little older and our parents divorced and it was like a force field pushing us together. Divorce is awful and sad but I do have to say this; it caused my sisters to go from just my siblings to my best friends and my soulmates. And I'm so grateful for them. I'm grateful for everything - our fights, our laughter, I'm grateful for the moments we get together and are so excited to see each other we basically tackle one another to the ground. I'm grateful for how loud we talk, how we can communicate without actually speaking. I'm really just grateful for them. And mom, thanks for raising us to be young women who are independent and for teaching us the value of hard work.

This wasn't mean to be sappy but I can't help it, that's what Disney does I guess. What I loved so much about Frozen was that while yes, it had a little romance, that wasn't the overall story or purpose of the film. It's quite unlike literally every other Disney movie where romantic love is the anchor of the plot. In this movie the focal point of the story is Princess Anna's unflinching love for her older sister Elsa and how she literally sacrifices herself to save her. It's so much more moving than just a simple romance and that's what makes the actual romance in the movie that much sweeter. Because it's secondary.

Anyway, I loved this movie so much. GO SEE IT NOW WOULD YOU!

Friday, November 15, 2013

the hunger

Have you guys seen that one episode of It's Always Sunny where Sweet Dee & Charlie think they eat human meat because Frank tells them they did?

 They go pretty much batshit crazy. They think they're cannibals & decide they have "The Hunger." It's funny because it's super disturbing and anything with Charlie Day in it is perfect and duh, I'm from Philadelphia so of course I'll watch a show that makes Philadelphians look like loveable sick crazy stupid idiots. 

They become obsessed. And then they find out it wasn't even human meat but like, raccoon meat or something and all of their crazed "hunger" was just in their head. 

I feel a lot like Dee and Charlie, which I don't know if I should say out loud because then maybe I need to question like, things in my life. But it's true. I have this hunger in me all the time. This hunger for more more more.

Nothing is ever enough. When I first moved here I had nothing, so all I wanted was somewhere to live and any kind of job. Little tiny victories like getting an interview at a restaurant or a nice stranger were glorious moments in my day. It was really, really hard.

Then I got an apartment but it wasn't nice enough. Then I got a car and it was a terrible hunk of shit. And I wanted and wanted more. Then I got a real job but it wasn't enough, nothing was enough.

Now I have a brand new car by the grace of God and a beautiful apartment (again by the grace of God) and a job that treats me so well (by the grace of God) and there's still..this...nagging. This little emptiness inside that says "more more more."

Nothing ever seems good enough. I'm never thin enough, I'm never pretty enough, I'm never talented enough, I'm never content. 

Sure I think the culture of Los Angeles fuels this need and want for better and bigger and more, but it's also for sure a human condition. It's a little something inside of me that says "There's always something better."

And there is. I'm not supposed to be content with everything here. But instead of reaching toward a better career, a better car, a better life/status, I should be reaching toward a better relationship with God.

Which like, is totally obvious but something I can't seem to grasp. 

I think a lot of times people expect because I identify as Christian that means I'm legalistic, I'm a bigot, I'm boring, I'm conservative, and I'm wrong. But I think what it means to me, to love Jesus Christ, it means to try and model my life the way Jesus lived His. 

He loved.

The hunger I have in me should be to love others selflessly, to serve others selflessly. That's really all I have to give anyway. 

I will never be satisfied while I'm alive. But that's different than not being thankful. Because oh man, I am thankful. I am so, so thankful even though I don't always act like it. And hey, I'm sorry universe and friends and world because sometimes I act like a brat and I complain and I'm annoyed and I'm super bitchy. 

But for every moment I mess up, every moment I crave something fleeting like money or fame or popularity or sex appeal - every minute I crave something like that, there is another minute that God is working in me. Shaping me and helping me and guiding me and I am so thankful because I hope I never stop changing and growing and becoming the person I was created to be. 

 I don't know these are just some thoughts I had this morning, also MIIIIGHT have to do with all the coffee I just drank but who's to say, really!

 * * * 

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

breaking up with my (fictional) boyfriends

It's no secret that I like to have crushes on people...but the problem here is that my crushes tend to be on celebrities and literary characters and at this point in my life I realize it's time to let it go. It's time to breakup with all of them. But how do you break a habit that's been your whole life? Ever since I learned how to read or watched movies I've fallen in love with fictional characters.  Chris Chambers, Ron Weasley, Mr. Darcy, Jack Dawson, Jake Ryan, Peter Pevensie, Sherlock Holmes - really the list is embarrassingly long. 

It's easier to have crushes on unattainable people. Like, literally unattainable since they don't even exist. Or celebrities like Benedict Cumberbatch, Andrew Garfield, Zac Efron - men that are so far from me it's safe to like them. So that in real life, I can hide and stay far away from relationships. Because relationships mean investment and time and God forbid I actually start to like someone because what if it doesn't work out? Because we've all been hurt right? We've all been with people that hurt us and it's so much better to just be alone, right?

I don't know. I don't know because I don't let myself get close to guys romantically because it's scary. But I do know that there is this line between reality and fantasy and so often I live in fantasy. Like one time I actually cried because I was thinking about how Narnia doesn't exist. That's how much I love worlds that aren't this one. But it's so strange to me, because I do love this world. I love the gritty, strange, beautiful, dirty city of Los Angeles. I love my friends so much sometimes it feels like my heart could burst. 

I love this place and I love the moments when I stand back and feel in awe of just I don't know, the universe and space and time because really, it's so amazing. And I want to give my whole heart to this life that I have. I want to love people genuinely, I want to invest in my friendships and family and work. 

And I want to be open if there's someone out there for me. Someone real. 

I know it's good to dream. I know it's good to love books and film. But I also know I can use them as an escape. And I just can't do that anymore. I can't remove myself from my own reality because not only is that not healthy, it's not what God wants for me. I don't think so. You know? 

So here I am. Here I am all you fictional men I love so much. It's not you guys. It's totally me. Like 100 percent. You guys have been great. It's been fun and exciting but I think it's time we go our separate ways. And hey...we can still be friends, right?


Monday, October 21, 2013

pills and Jesus but not a Jesus pill

Everything had been fine up until the moment that it turned really shitty - 

These things were true:

I was sitting in a movie theatre. 

I was with my friends.

I was breathing.

I stopped breathing.

My chest was tingling.

My arm was numb, it was crawling up my body,

it was up my neck,

my face was numb,

I was dying????

Everything felt real - I ran out of the movie theatre on Paramount's studio lot, where I worked at the time, and ran back to the Page office. A friend and coworker immediately noticed something was wrong.

"I'm having a heart attack," I rasped. "I am going to die. I'm going to die."

I kept thinking and saying it over and over. My friend was alarmed and quickly walked with me to the medical building. The nurse examined me and remained calm but in my head I kept thinking, "This is it this is it, I won't be able to breathe any minute."

The nurse listened to my symptoms - I was shaking and crying - and told me I was fine.

"I don't feel fine," I cried feebly, fumbling for my phone, wanting to call my mom. 

I was so convinced that I was going to have a heart attack or stroke that I called my best friend, Chanelle, and she came and picked me up and drove me to the ER.

The doctor at the ER was sweet and as I sat there on the exam table she looked at me and told me I was having a panic attack. 

She was sympathetic:

 "You don't want to live like this," she told me. "I get it. I'm from the East Coast too. LA is tough and being away from family is hard." She was young, but she looked tired and patient and I was grateful for a nice doctor.
 I didn't say anything, just avoided eye contact with the medical student, who was a guy my age, that was taking notes. I felt like an idiot. 

"You should talk to someone," she continued, handing me pamphlets. "And maybe go on medication."

She was really sweet and after I left the emergency room the statement kept swirling around in my head. 

And maybe go on medication.


Anxiety meds.

Anti depressants.

Was I going to become one of those people? Someone who needed medication? But I have God, I would tell myself. I'll pray it away. I'll read my bible every morning, I'll go running, I'll eat gluten-free, I'll even become a vegan before I go on "medication."

I didn't listen to the doctor and eventually I felt better because she told me my skull wasn't closing in and I wasn't suffocating and I was okay.

And then a few months passed and I felt a scratch at the back of my throat one day at work, and then my heart started racing, and I thought I was suffocating and I thought my throat was closing and I was having another panic attack all over again. But I still didn't take the doctor's advice - I didn't go to a therapist, I didn't go on medication. I avoided it and the anxiety consumed me. It was so bad that it got to a point where I would be out with friends and then suddenly I thought my throat was closing and I would run out and start crying.

 If you have ever dealt with severe anxiety you know that it feels like there is a dark veil surrounding you at all times.

It started to dictate my life - everything from a car ride home alone to going to bed became a terrifying and huge obstacle. It was better in the morning and during the day, but the minute night fell or I was alone, it would come back, clawing its way through my body until it had such a strong hold on me that I felt trapped and crazy. I really felt crazy - like there was something wrong in my head. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I couldn't hang out with friends without being afraid I was about to have another panic attack.

A second ER trip later and several family phone calls of, "If you don't do something you need to move home, you need to get better," and I finally found myself with a small bottle of anxiety meds in my hand.

I looked at them - it was this strange line I felt like I was crossing. In so many ways, I felt like I had failed. 

But I'm only 24. I should be happy. 

I shouldn't be taking these. 

And then I took them and I haven't had a panic attack since and sometimes it feels like I failed or something. Like I should've prayed harder or ran more or stuck to that gluten free diet.

But sometimes you can't listen to stigmas and what people tell you and you just have to freaking take Zoloft and stop having panic attacks.

That's the thing - 

It doesn't mean I don't love God if I take anxiety meds. It doesn't mean I'm weak, or foolish, or stupid. It is exactly what it is. And what hurts me is when people tell me I don't need them. 

I don't need them? We don't need a lot of things. We don't need to take Advil every time we have a headache. But we do because it helps. I take anxiety medication because it helps.

* * *

"Happiness is just a feeling. Joy is deep and real and isn't the same thing."

I lie on my back, staring at my ceiling, thinking about these words. I've heard them a thousand times at a thousand different bible studies, a thousand different sermons, a thousand different conversations with friends. The sunlight filters in through my bedroom window and I close my eyes.

"I don't feel happy all the time," I say aloud because saying words out loud sometimes makes everything seem a little more real.

"But I don't think I'm depressed," I say again.

The light shines in my room and warms my face and it's soothing and it kind of feels like I'm dreaming--you know, that space in between sleep and awake when you feel warm and safe and lazy.

Happiness is fleeting - some days we feel happy. Others we feel sad. It's normal and it's life and it shouldn't dictate the deep joy that is in the core of who we are. 

Because these things are true:

I am 24.

I get panic attacks.

I take medication for said panic attacks.

The Creator of the UNIVERSE knows me, loves me, and created me.

I am okay.

* * * 

Do you struggle with anxiety? If so, how do you deal with it? Do you feel as if there is a stigma, perhaps especially in the Christian community, about taking medication for anxiety or depression?

Monday, October 14, 2013

girly names i wish i had

What am I doing posting 2 blogs in 1 day. Awful, I know.


You ever notice how some girls have the cutest damn names you ever heard and they are also the cutest damn girls in the world with like, dainty wrists and perfect complexions and who just like, "forget to eat" --

Yeah well I'm not like that. I like my name but I honestly just don't understand where these cutesy names come from and is there like a certain species of humans that have cute names that only breed cute children and then they all live in a yellow cottage and eat scones that have no calories?

I don't know.

Anyway here are some names that are supes cute so all you couples out there lookin' for baby names feel free to take these!!! I made them up so I get all the money YAAAAAY.

Lula-Belle Cheeks 
Daffy Dilly Weed
Gillymunch Babycake
Lottie Curdle
Dingley Dapper
Maebaby Babybaby
Sarah Shine Heartsmith
 Kindle Kitty
Candlehands Butterscotch
 Pumpkinspice Latteahbaby
 Berry Baker
Milky Wonks
Tookieteeky Tinkytock
 Alabama Handstand
Cuddlewuffin Meekymouse


throwback monday

found an old poem i wrote when i thought i was going to be a slam poet when i grew up.

this one is fun and silly.

I am a bad b-u-t-t
I am a bad butt
I’m so bad I won’t even CUSS, you won’t hear those words starting in my gut
Crawling up through my ribcage and spreading their VENOM cause
Heck NO
I am so cool,
Cussing is below me.
I eat unrinsed strawberries cuz PESTACIDES don’t own me!
I take my coffee either black or with so much sugar I give myself cavities
I wait for my mail so the mailman’s confused and wonders what issue does this girl have with me?
Yeah I cuddle with my cat and he ain’t even declawed
And heck yes I drive at the speed limit, I’m so badbutt I refuse to break the law
Yeah I go to Goodwill with my Grandma which makes me badder than those hipsters
Who rep Brooklyn with their TOMS and keychains big framed glasses make them wish for
Something so vintage like a senior citizen Wednesday afternoon discount
So I get my jeans at 1.50 as I badbutt two-step off the sidewalk drop a nice dismount.
I blare Ke$ha and Gaga in my car cause those girls are so deep
True artists they know of the world’s suffering and deceit
I go through yellow lights and ignore the hater’s beeps
Heck YES I pick up my little sister from school at 2:30 p – m
And sometimes at nighttime I think she might be my only friend…
But that doesn’t matter because I am a bad b-u-t-t
I finished college at NYU heck, I got my Bachelor’s Degree
I destroyed that deans list walked away with a 4.0
I’m so bad I wear clothes that cover me up and skin I just don’t show
Me and my friend saw TANGLED in the movies in the middle of the day
And I cried when they sang that duet on the boat and I’m STILL okay!
I’m so bad I even go to church every Sunday and I LIKE it
I drive myself too because heck I gotta LISCENSE
I drink diet coke at a club because drunk people smell and sometimes scare me,
I listen to musicals before I go out with my friends, people say turn it off and I’m like, DARE ME!
I like that reading Narnia in an air conditioned room is my idea of a beautiful moment,
and when my IPOD comes on shuffle you hear old school Nelly tracks & the soundtrack to Atonement
People say I’m weird but I’m like….you’re weird?
People say it’s embarrassing, but I’m like…no fear!
I feel my heart pat pat against my chest in the middle of the night,
My own mortality astonishes me and I think it’s an ever-losing fight
To claw – rip – shred against the world’s views of what I should be molded to be
Bad – cool – rebellious –
Adjectives that are the very opposite of me
So as the seconds minutes wander and tick slowly quickly by
I’ll just relax into the arms of God and let out a contented sigh
Because even though the world says I’m not cool enough, I’m free
to be satisfied in the knowledge that I’m the only me.