Jon is my imaginary boyfriend this week for always saying what I think yet struggle to express. I hold him in the highest regards as someone I find intelligent yet able to find humor in most situations. He knows exactly when the situation calls for a joke or a stand on your chair shout.
This week, after the horrific news of the Charleston shooting came out, I think I finally reached my point of exhaustion. To be honest, I feel disheartened. I have this constant lump in my throat. Every day I hear news of humans failing humanity through acts of hate. I don’t know if I want to scream or cry or lock myself in my room and never come out. I love this planet and the people in it but I’m so sad that we can’t figure this peace thing out. It seems so simple to just treat people respectfully and look at them through the eyes you would use for yourself or a loved one but it must not be that simple because so many people are struggling with it.
How can humans be both beautiful and infuriating? Why can’t we stop choosing sides and understand that we’re ALL to blame for the state of things. No one religion or race caused our troubles.The hate just seems to be multiplying. We’re creating new generations of soldiers destined to kill for whatever cause they’ve been taught to believe in.
Closing Arguments: Seeing someone with a large platform point out the craziness of the world in a rational way helps. Jon does that for me.
So… I tried pot brownies for the first time recently. I had enough for three different nights and decided to write down my thoughts on each night so I could remember what was going through my mind at the time.
Notes from Experience #1
“Deja Vu while you’re high.
I won’t remember this in the morning. My short term memory isn’t working.
The tv is talking about being high while I’m high. It’s freaking me out.
Heart flutters….world mutters….piercing sky…whistling in my ear.
I’ll remember this.
I panic because I almost forgot.
Every thought and thing seems important. I need to write it down.
My brain feels like there’s no gravity to hold it to Earth. It keeps floating up but my skull is keeping it prisoner like a ceiling does to a balloon.”
Notes from Experience #2
“My vagina is unraveling…Like a flower blooming…It’s warm.
I would have sex with Daniel Tosh.
Sex was really good tonight. I kept thinking it was a dream and I would never feel the orgasm but then I did.
Helium brain has returned.”
Notes from Experience #3
“Why hadn’t I realized before how cute Danny Pudi is?
The words I read won’t enter my brain. I have to read everything 3 times in order to remember.
With alcohol buzz, you slowly get foggier and foggier. Its a straight line leading up to the buzzed feeling.
With pot, everything feels fine and normal, then suddenly it spikes and you realize something weird is going on. Like suddenly time moves very slowly or you’ll get stuck on a thought but then you’re back to normal again. It goes up and down like a heartbeat.
My husband says the tip of his eyelids are on fire. They feel hot.
He says he gets cold when he blinks.
I find that funny.”
Closing thoughts: What have I learned about myself from this experiment? The first night I was so paranoid about forgetting anything that I couldn’t focus on anything else. The second night something apparently was happening in my lady parts. And the third night was all about debating pot versus alcohol. I know I’d never be able to function properly if this was a normal habit for me. My thoughts seem so important in that state and they obviously weren’t. Also, I have questionable taste in men when I’m high so that would lead to all sorts of trouble. I DID sleep like a baby on those nights though.
It was an interesting experience.
My Inspiration of the week: Hatshepsut
Hatshepsut was the fifth pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty of Ancient Egypt and she ruled longer than any other woman in Egyptian history. When her half-brother/husband, Thutmose II, died, Hatshepsut began acting as regent, handling affairs until her stepson, Thutmose III, came of age. However, Hatshepsut seized the throne for herself and did not relinquish it to Thutmose III even after he came of age. She insisted on being referred to as the king, and had her daughter, Neferure, given the title of God’s Wife and portrayed in art as her queen.
Hatshepsut legitimized her reign by adopting a male persona. She was depicted in male dress, having a false beard and wearing the various crowns of Egypt not because she wanted to trick anyone but to assert her authority. Once Hatshepsut became generally accepted as King, she returned to wearing female clothing.
She was known as being a successful ruler and one of the most prolific ancient Egyptian builders. Hatshepsut continued to rule until her death in 1458 BC. After her death, Thutmose III tried to erase her from history by destroying monuments and statues with her name on them. Luckily, not everything was destroyed and some records have been found of her reign.
Reading about Hatshepsut inspires me to be more ambitious. Just because the rule book says you can’t do something, doesn’t mean you have to listen. Some people might view Hatshepsut’s actions as a power hungry move but why can’t a woman want power that men have been working for and expecting since the beginning of time? Maybe as someone who was ruling for years, she knew she would be a better ruler than her stepson who had the right gender but no experience. I say more power to her!
If you know what you want and that you are good at it, you don’t give that thing up because you’re told to do so.
On my search for a way to broaden my horizons and find interesting new things to be a part of, I had the lovely idea of checking out Craigslist. I figured maybe I would find a kindred spirit or like minded individuals who might be in need of a volunteer for a good cause or maybe just needed assistance in a personal matter like help cleaning out a garage for an older person or something.
Instead I found this:
1.) Sex. A LOT of people want sex. Apparently, they’re super comfortable in asking strangers if they could lick a variety of their body parts. Also, there seems to be a VERY high demand for big, black women. So much so that as I scrolled down and read tons of these requests, I started to feel a little insecure about being a little white woman. I then reminded myself that I don’t actually want to have sex with strangers so the feeling subsided.
2.) There are so many businesses posting on this site that I felt a little overwhelmed. Which ones are legit? Do I have the patience or time to message each one to see if their volunteer work is up my alley? I’m just so busy. I have a blog to update, after all.
3.) Loneliness was a recurring theme in some posts. One person was just asking for someone to hang out with. Maybe do some gardening together or go to Art museums. This really bummed me out because I can’t imagine not having a single person who I could do things with. Sure, this guy’s post might be hiding a more sinister request. He might really be looking for sex and using “gardening” as a cover but if not, then that means he got so lonely he’s now asking strangers to be his friend.
4.) The main thing I realized on my Craigslist search is that I’m a cynic. I questioned every single post I read. I even questioned a post that stated the person needed assistance in commiting suicide. I went back and forth on whether I even believed them or whether they were just trolls looking to see who would take the bait. I decided I didn’t believe them.
I live life as if I’m watching everything happen on tv. I don’t feel like a participant. I feel like the audience. That’s not how people are supposed to feel. If I thought there was even a small chance that this person was serious about killing themselves, wouldn’t a decent thing to do, at the very least, be to message them something encouraging? But then I thought about how much I hate when people try to encourage me when they think I’m down. Am I supposed to pretend I know that things will get better for them? Is that what you’re supposed to do? I know how important hope is and maybe just the acknowledgement that you’re not alone in the world or that someone heard your cry could help someone.
After thinking about that, I did go back to reach out to them but the post had been deleted. Now I’ll never know. Maybe it was a prank. If not, then I missed an opportunity to do the decent thing because of my cynicism. Even if my words fell on deaf ears, atleast I would’ve done something instead of just standing by.
I’m a positive person by nature. I truly believe there is more good in the world than evil and yet I find myself constantly angry with the state of things. Initially I believed I would outgrow these feelings. I thought it was just a normal cocktail of teen hormones causing my feelings of unfairness all around me. I thought, surely, when I’m in my twenties, life will make sense.
I’m in my thirties now. Life still makes no sense and I’m even angrier than before.
I’m frustrated that we as a species have learned nothing in the years we’ve been on this earth. We repeat the same idiotic mistakes over and over again. We don’t know how to live peacefully amongst each other and we have no respect for the planet we live on.
The overly religious have decided this life isn’t as important as the next so they stand on their pedestals pointing their fingers at everyone else and screaming at the top of their lungs about what failures we all are and how their God will punish the wicked and reward the faithful. They repeat it over and over and they stamp the words love and obedience on it so they can justify the ugliness of what they really are.
Since birth, females are told the way they look is their most important asset. We’re told we need to nurture men and be good mothers one day. Our bodies need to be the right shape. Our hair needs to be shiny. We’re told men want a natural beauty but they don’t like blemishes so you must perfect the art of applying makeup without making it look like you have any on. We’re told men want curves but what they really mean is big breasts and a round butt, not a muffin top. We must be our very best and validation is everything.
Boys are taught they must never show emotions. They aren’t real men if they care too much or, God forbid, cry. They need to be the best at everything they do. They need to have sex with as many women as possible. They need to make a lot of money. They need to have the best things. If they don’t, they’re failures.
The ice caps are melting, the bees are disappearing, little girls are being trafficked, young men and women are dying at each other’s hands but no one cares because Kim Kardashian is naked again and we need to decide if we adore her or hate her.
I’m so angry.
Mostly, I’m angry at my own impotence. My insides are blazing but I have no idea how to begin to make a difference and I have serious doubts that I could anyway. I’m angry that I’m a mediocre human. That the only adventures or heroic moments I’ll experience are through books or movies. So I fill my days with work and food and family and planning out my next vacation or weekend events as a distraction and I tell myself things could be worse. Because they could, right?
I have a good life by most definitions and yet that restless feeling nags at me. I’m tired of living a wasteful life. I’m tired of having no purpose and would give anything to finally have, at the very least, a direction to walk in. I’m willing to volunteer but struggling to find a place to do so. I’m willing to try new things but don’t know what. I’m willing to travel as long as it’s financially possible. I need to try something new.
So, because I’ve been so useless at figuring this out on my own, I’ve decided to open myself up to opportunities that others might bring into my life. If anyone has any suggestions or ideas or invitations, feel free to mention it in the comments section. I’d be more than happy to try it and then blog about it. Let me know what you think is important to focus on or if you have any recommendations on where to start. All comments will be seriously considered and, if possible, done. Even silly suggestions will be considered.