Who I am

When it is all about me, I am selfish. When it is all about you, I am not myself.


I read a beautiful post a few days ago that touches on this. Of course it stayed with me because of it is relevant to my current situation. If you don't want to read the whole post here is a quote that I think sums it up "We end up honouring surface wants over the real life meat of who we are and the work that we do."-Schmutzie It has gotten to the point for me where I don't know what I truly want anymore. I have become so afraid of being who I am that it is a struggle of epic proportions to find what my heart wants.


What I want most is to be great. I grew up reading all these stories about epic adventures, and I wanted nothing more than to be the hero in one of those adventures. I wanted to save the world and all that jazz. I played all sorts of adventures with my dearest neighborhood friend. We would jump off tables trying to fly. We would play lord of the rings out in the backyard. And if one of us was acting too grown up we'd chastise each other for losing our imagination.


Somewhere along the way we drifted apart and I hid my imagination deep down inside of me. Too afraid to show it because it wasn't "proper". People don't want to be around the girl who takes jokes too far or says things that others don't understand. So now I have to learn to be a child again. Because my soul is aching to release the ideas that I've hidden away. 


So now I'm doing what my heart tells me and working on saving my school department, because this is my life and I deserve to try and help make things right.

Different?

Sorry I haven't been able to post lately, finals and roommate drama.

So Sometimes I forget that I'm different. I was reminded last night. I was hanging out with the best friend and his parents. I had my hair pulled back so my ears were showing. I had all of my piercing in. I've had my ears multiply pierced since I was 13. I got my latest hole when I was 16, I am now 20. I forget that I have them. Well best friends parents were rather shocked that I have five holes in my ears. For the rest of the night they kept joking how I had all my booty in my ears. At least it could be worse, cause I have a rather large posterior so they could have been making jokes about that.

I forget that the average is two holes. I forget that I'm edgy. I don't see myself as "different". Specially with my blue and purple tips. I honestly don't see myself that way. I don't see myself as a girl with the dragon tattoo kind of outcast. Maybe it is because I believe your fashion sense and morals have nothing to do with adulthood and responsibility. But the real change I feel that I have made is that I don't feel persecuted. I understand their confusion and their jokes. And it didn't hurt. I learned something about myself. That I am different, and there are lots of people in this world that want to understand those differences, but are confused how to go about it.

My Life...

I have a headache. I don't like this. I think I now know how Sheldon AND Leonard of the big bang theory feels. I really should be following in the footsteps of my awesome cousin. But seeing as I'm living with the problem in a tiny dorm room and she doesn't know how to stop saying stupid things.

Its gotten to the point that I have stopped caring if she shuts up. I just want her to stop saying stupid things. "Like I will be up til dead spurt. Like I will be dead and blood will be spurting out." Yes those words came out of her mouth. I understand, I really do. I say stupid shit all the time. And it annoys people. "Omg fuck this natural light how do I make it go away... natural light wouldn't be so rude if it didn't make me so washed out." This from a girl who claims everyone else in the world is stupid as fuck...

Also I'm looking at my winter coat and wondering... hmm I wonder if I can let this out a little... Seeing as some how I am a late bloomer and have gained more curves Or maybe I can let it out a lot and add some warmer lining and then have a super warm coat! Because well I'm crazy like that.

Reverse Racism- A rant

Calling me a wasp is like assuming that because you're black you are all from the same tribe. Yes I am white, no I am not english in anyway shape or form. I am nordic and germanic. I am from sweden, denmark, norway, poland and germany. Yes I am white, yes I look like a typical white girl should look. Yes I am from the north shore, yes I am privileged, but for all of my parents money(which honestly is due to good spending habits more than anything else) we still might get screwed over. The government might take away my parents retirement money, along with many other teachers. So tell me how I am so much better off again?

My grandparents lived through the great depression. My grandfather lived in an orphanage because his parents couldn't take care of him and his siblings. His father was a drunk who ended up dying in a transient hotel probably from some long term effects of drinking... My grandfather and his wife used to have to scrape together breakfast for dinner to feed their kids because they didn't have enough money to buy enough food. So much for northsiders being rich, by the way this was in the 50s and 60s. Hell my great grandmother bullied my grandmother for speaking swedish funny because they were from two different parts of sweden. My grandma was from the less sophisticated north while my great grandma was from the south. My great aunt ended up having a shot gun wedding, and my other great aunt can't tell you who the father of two of her children is. My uncle has had three different wives and refused to come to his mothers funeral, because of his dogs. My other uncle is probably autistic and was born in the 50s, his parents were told that they should give him up and send him to an institution, but they made the brave choice to raise him themselves.

We've got a long history of being screw ups and making mistakes in my family. We aren't the best. But these are my people. I'm not proud of being Caucasian, I'm not proud of what my white family has done to others. But honestly stop assuming things just because I'm white. I am proud of my family, I am proud of my people. Just like you should have pride for yours. I don't pretend know more about your culture or your people than I do. I admit when I'm wrong and I back off. Yes my family has been privileged because we are white, but don't try and act like you know about me or my culture because my skin color fits that of the mass media.

All this because I offered to brush your hair when it was a mess. Guess what sister, I get random curled up knots in my hair too. My hair gets all matted frizzy and a mess when I roll out of bed too. I offered to help, I'm sorry that you found my offer pushy and insensitive. I treat you like I would like to be treated, and honestly if I treated you the way you treat me I would be one hell of a bitch. Yes I like making myself and others look pretty, but not by conforming to the medias idea of beauty. I want to take your image of yourself and help you make it the best possible looking image, sort of like a editor does for a writer. I believe in giving women the tools to make themselves "beautiful" if they don't want to make the effort thats fine. I will not judge them for it, but I strongly strongly believe in giving them the tools to do so if they wish to.

So go ahead and call me a white colonist. Make fun of me for quoting history and saying that all our colonizing attempts kind of failed(See vineland and greenland, iceland I don't know enough about). Miss quote me and make me sound like an idiot for saying that we left vineland because the indians were lactose intolerant and we gave them milk, it made them sick they got angry and chased us off.

In the end, yeah but you're white isn't any better of an excuse than yeah but you're black.

Barfing

I have some sort of nasty bug. With symptoms ranging from nausea always sleepy to headaches.  Its fun. Needless to say I've stayed home from class today. And here it comes, the emotional throw up. Because mood swings are like barfing.

You can feel it coming, you try to stop it. And then there you are puking all over something you ought not to be puking. You tried to stop. You tried to find a way to deal with it appropriately. But nope Your puking.

This is how my current roommate makes me feel. I also feel terrible for blogging about how much she is driving me up the wall but I've got very few people to vent to. The real question is when I want somebody to shut the fuck up and stop judging the entire world! Last monday do you know what she did? She sat and looked at peoples funny looking dicks on craigs list with her boyfriend. For their anniversary.

Now this wouldn't be a problem if I could send them to his room... which just so happens to be thousands of miles away in texas. So I'm stuck. Listening to them judge then entire world and its brother, every night, since august, with rare breaks.

So I try to go hide in the lounge, which also happens to be colder than my room, then it gets invaded by people playing pokemon. They did invite me, but you see I had a very deprived childhood and wasn't allowed to play. At all. So I have no basis for it and feel like a poser trying to play. And now I'm back in my room. Watching bones. Trying to get ready for bed

Waking Up

I've always been fascinated with my reflection. Call it petty or whatever you want to call it, I like looking at my own reflection, I always have. Even in my darkest hours I like looking at myself. But it has only been in the past few months that I've really found the beauty in my face. In my body. In myself.

Sometimes I don't recognize the pictures of me from the past, it is like some sort of disconnect. Just like the contentment makes me shine, the sadness hides me away. And I feel the freedom in my limbs. I feel my body. It is my soul's home. And I'm learning more about it every day.

And I hate and love it. Though all that matters is that I'm learning. I am functioning, on my own. I'm becoming "normal". I see it in my face, the way that I wear my own skin with confidence. I am alive, and happy to be so.

Echoes

Sometimes I feel like all I ever hear is my exs name. Like some sort of broken record. Every step I take somebody brings him up. I'd be okay with if it wasn't for the fact that he is my best friend, I consider us equals, but everyone is always choosing him over me. It is hard for me, because in both his and my mind we are equals.

I feel like I can be open and a little bit cocky about this here because I'm not sure if I know any of the people here in real life. I'm damn good at what I do. I'm not the best. But hell I'm for sure baller. So watching my ex get ahead, mostly because of his gender, pisses me off. Pisses me off might even be a mild way off saying how I feel about the situation.

Even my roommate chooses him over me. What. The. Hell. I mean sure fine it is her life, I can deal with that. Its more that I'm left fighting to just survive and find a place for next year. And the only person that is trying to really help me is my ex. The person who I get to share most of my accomplishments with, we celebrate the small steps I make towards normalcy. And I am so glad and lucky to have him in my life.

Yet I don't want my world to revolve around him. I want my own life, and I've gotten myself most of it. And I love it. I am my own person. I am healing well. I've hit some road blocks, but I've gone through and I adore it.

Yet where ever I go I still here these echoes. Echoes of him. And it hurts, not because he is gone, but because I cannot escape what was. I am having trouble being something other than his girl to this world. And I hate it.

The Shoes

Today I aim to try something new. I am going to attempt to walk in high heels. Its only taken me almost twenty years. You see I missed out on this right of passage because I'm 5'8". I have never had a guy tall enough for me to wear heals with. I'd tower over them. Okay I'm exaggerating a little but stay with me here. I have never learned how to properly walk in heals. I can do lots of other awesome amazing things, but walking in heals is a mystery to me. I have googled how to walk in them because I plan to be walking in the cute heals I bought myself last year but never wore by Wednesday. Yes by Wednesday.

Why would I torture myself in such a fashion you ask? Well I have a date with a guy that is half a foot taller than me. Half a freaking foot people. I can hear the heavenly choirs singing. Lilly can finally wear those heels that she has been dying to wear since she was big enough to know what high heels were!

What gave me this crazy idea that he would give a shit about what my feet looked like? Well he complemented my shoes last week. My oxfords. What my mom likes to call my 1940s orthopedic nurse shoes. I still think these shoes are cute but my mom, not so much. So I figured, why the hell not wear my 5 dollar heals? This is a once in a life time opportunity here! Okay maybe I'm exaggerating but still. For me this like never happens, ever.