Archive

Tag Archives: women

1920216_422432241246928_2095040463410625105_n

First of all, hopefully you didn’t just skip the picture above to start reading. I mean, I totally get if you did, because, let’s face it, the writing here is usually great or whatever. (HA!) But, let’s get on with it.

Ok. So. I love pictures. I think they’re magical. They can be terrible (especially when I take them/with my ipod, omg pixels err’where). But mostly they are wonderful, magical things. I especially love really old pictures, from hundreds of years ago. It’s a peek into the past. No matter how ‘past’ it is. (Throwback Thursday, y’all.)

And I love quotes. Probably less than I love pictures, but I still love them. Many of them are meaningful, inspiring, interesting, etc. And I like to share both of these things, pictures and quotes, like most people, with other people. However, like selfies, there are terrible things out there. And sometimes, like selfies, these things can be, well, lived with. You can scroll past them and it’s over. But SOMETIMES, it’s so DREADFUL, you just have to stop what you’re doing immediately, save the hideous thing, and write a long, drawn-out explanation of why you personally think it’s so bad. Ok, so, here goes!!

I want to make a list of complaints against this THING. I want to meet the person who wrote this down, face-to-face, and tell them how horrible they are. (In a kind way.) I want to make signs and go on strike with my eyes and brain because we all had to look at it.

“Do not fall in love with people like me.”

What, why? This statement totally makes sense if you’re some murdery, stabby, horribly mean person. But! From the definition you give of yourself — I’m totally throwing this all at you, unknown writer! — you sound great! Perfect. Too perfect. Is that what you were going for?

“I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place…”

Ok. Let’s go. You’ve talked me into it.

“…so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.”

What the fuck? You just ruined that beautiful picture. Also, aren’t those called memories? Aren’t those great things to have? Aren’t experiences wonderful? Aren’t they what make us the people we are? Who cares if places remind me of you? What makes you think you’re so very EPIC, anyway? Why are you trying to BREAK me? Aren’t you a good person? Isn’t that the picture of yourself you’re trying to create? On that note…

“I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible.”

It all started well, and then it got weird, and now it’s just over between us! Destroying people is not beautiful. It sounds poetic, I suppose, but it should NOT be your relationship goal!? Treat people like people. Always. Go to beautiful places, do beautiful things, make great memories. Don’t revel in the fact you hurt someone. Or WHATEVER this means, exactly. You are not a beautiful destroyer. THERE is a quote for YOU!

“And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.”

OK FIRST OF ALL why is that comma there?! Next, naming storms after people is STUPID, so what do you have to say about that? This doesn’t make sense. Not that any of this made sense. But this really doesn’t make sense. It’s not cute. It’s not romantic. It’s harmful and creepy and gross!

So, moral of the story: Don’t fall in love with people like you because you’re crazy!

 

 

I see two women walking together on the side of the road as I drive past, and I wonder if the woman waving her hands is talking and talking and talking too much, and if the other woman is regretting inviting her friend to exercise with her on this chilly late summer afternoon, since that’s what she really wanted to do, exercise, not walk slower than she normally would and listen to all of her friend’s  updated life struggles. “My cat just won’t stop staring out the window,” I imagine her saying, waving her arms as she walks, pretending that she wants to exercise, too.

And now the women are in my rearview mirror, I can look back and see them, and see the leaves turning orange or brown on the trees they walk under.

People are already complaining about the cold, about how it’s almost fall and the weather is colder than it was a month ago, and I think about how this always happens, every year, everything. Hot in the summer, cool in the fall, cold in the winter, with snow, and the same fetching of the dusty snow shovel from the basement.

I look in my rearview mirror at the beautiful orange leaves and I think about how I’ve seen this all before, seen those women before, or women like them, had those same experiences, talked about that same cat, seen those same leaves change from green to orange to brown, raked them into piles and jumped in them, or left the piles to rot. Again and again, year after year.

“It’s so cold!” she says, another faceless woman in my mind, pulling on the sweater she hasn’t worn in nine months.

Winter will come. Snow will fall. Salt trucks will melt it away, or try, or make ice patches that are worse than the snow was.

Again, again, of course. And of course the people will go on, dealing with seeing their breath in the air on cold winter mornings, plowing through snow drifts and piles of paperwork and gallons of hot coffee. What else can they do?

What’s the difference between liking somebody because they’re interesting and liking somebody because they’re… something else?

I don’t think I’ve ever had this distinction. Looking back – looking at the fairly short list of boys I liked through my teen years that I wrote on the back page of my purple diary – I feel like every guy I’ve ever liked has been interesting – and that’s why I liked them.

Think, the great skateboarder in fourth grade. The talented singer in sixth. The funny guy in tenth. The fantastically smart scientist guy throughout all of those years.

Ok, so? I liked them. I like liked them, or at least I thought that I did. Unlike my friends, I never liked someone (like liked them) because of what they looked like, or what they wore, or who they were in the social setting of high school. Yes, I might have found those people attractive – but I wasn’t attracted to them.

To this day, it feels like I have no distinction between respect and love in some instances. Or maybe I’m looking for something that’s like respect but a little closer to love? Is it admiration? Sure. Is it love? I don’t think so.

I realized this fact about myself a long while ago – back when I was writing that list of boys in my diary.

Hmm, I thought. All of these people are, like, interesting people.

And I still don’t understand it.

Or, maybe I’m just thinking too much into myself. Maybe I’m too caught up in my own thoughts and feelings.

Maybe I’m unsure if it’s OK to respect a guy who’s my own age. Maybe I feel like I have to like like him, especially if he’s good looking. Maybe I just love too many people. Maybe there’s no problem with this at all, maybe it’s what everyone does and I just never thought to ask anyone else.

Maybe there is no difference between respecting people and loving them. There are many different sorts of love, right?

So, that’s fine. I respect/love smart, interesting people.

I suppose I just haven’t found somebody yet that I will respect, and love, and also love in a different way.

What do you think? What’s the difference between love and respect?

Oh God, is the current political race so boring (romney v. obama, obama takes it – can we skip to november now?) that we have to dramatize issues that aren’t even issues?!

I mean, I avoid this stuff as much as possible. Not the real issues, not the news, not important world events — the elections. (Can we seriously get some new people to vote for? None of the above? No one at all?)

The elections, and the crazy people that pop out from who-knows-where (where do they hide, and how do we make them stay hidden?) and make everyone freak out about the crazy schemes that they’ve been planning since the last time they ducked down into their hidey-holes.

Now I see everyone freaking out about birth control and Planned Parenthood and women’s rights…

“Oh, shit! These white guys wanna take away the pill!? Oh, no they don’t! Over my dead body! Sisters, unite!” (Are you imagining them as super-heroines after that last line? I sure am!) “We will stop this! Let’s blog about it! Let’s go on The News!”

Step back, darlings. How long has abortion been legal? How many people want that changed? How many of those white guys? How does the issue of birth control compare to abortion on a scale of one to ten? Are you getting this?

Contraceptives are here to stay. Divorce is not going to become illegal. (Unless Rick Santorum wins! Yeah, let’s vote for THAT guy, America!) What are some of the other ridiculous ideas that are springing up and causing a ruckus? Why are we talking about this? Why is it on the news? Why are we pretending it could happen? No. It’s not going to happen. Settle down, there.

Maybe we’re all just trying to pass the time. November is so far away. Think of how many horrible political commercials you’ll have to watch in all the time between then and now! (I’m sorry!)

Speaking of those commercials, what are we, eternal high schoolers?

“Oh. My. GOD. Did you hear what Romney did?! He TOTALLY changed his mind on that issue! Can you believe it?! WHO does that?”

“Obama… yeah, right, what has he been DOING the past FOUR years? Remember how (when he was a freshman) he had ALL THOSE plans? Yeah, where did THOSE go?”

You’re welcome, commercial writers. Feel free. Take what you need. I’ve given you the basic building blocks, right? Be sure to quote me!

Really, though, if I didn’t despise “election time” so much, I might enjoy how completely ridiculous the commercials are. But I just can’t bring myself to watch and enjoy them. They’re like fake reality shows from our government! Gee, what a great time to be alive.