Last night, after a fair amount of drinking at a party and getting a ride home from a friend, I sat at my computer and contemplated a difficult decision. Did I want to walk to Sheetz and get mozzarella sticks and fries? (Sheetz is where all the drunk IUPers go when hungry.) It was as I was about to write a status about said decision that I came up with the most beautiful piece of writing I ever created. Based off of the first sentence of Hamlet's "To be, or not to be" soliloquy, this is said masterpiece:
"To Sheetz, or not to Sheetz, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous drunkness,
Or to take arms against a sea of hunger,
And by opposing end them: to nom, to eat
Some Sheetz; and by a Sheetz, to say we end
The drunk-noms, and the thousand drunken wants
That flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consumption
Devoutly to be wished."
You are welcome.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Crazy, stupid love.
Any time I ever mention wanting love or the fact that I hate that I've yet to find it, I always get the same general response. It's either a "Don't worry you'll find it someday," or it's someone telling me it's not worth the time and that I don't need a man in my life to be complete. Trust me, I know that. Well, I know the second one. I have yet to have any hope of proof of the first. As a 22 year old who's been single all her life and been officially feminist for 3 or 4 years now, I know that I don't need a man to complete me. That's not what I want.
Unless you've been in my position, I don't think you'd understand. All I want is to know love. I want to feel love. I want to see love. I want to be love and be in love. I want to be able to go to bed each night and know that somewhere in the world there is someone who I mean more to than anything else, whether he's sleeping beside me or half way across the world on some trip. I want someone who can make me feel more beautiful than I could ever see myself, even when I am lying in bed sick, wearing sweatpants, and my face splotchy and red from bawling my eyes out to P. S. I Love You. I want someone who will have my back when it feel like the rest of the world has turned on me and I can't hold myself together on my own. I want someone to be with, to depend on, and who can depend on me to be all that I want of him when he needs me.
I've never had that love. I've never even had that silly, really, really like with anyone. I've felt that way before, but no one has ever felt that way about me. Ever. I'm the girl who never had a date to the school dances. I'm that girl that always got looked over for someone else. When that has been your entire life, it's hard to ever believe that you'll ever find anyone who feels that way about you. It's hard to believe that anyone will find you cute or pretty or attractive or beautiful because, if no one's ever thought that in 22 years, how could it even be true?
All I want is for someone to prove me wrong. All I want is for someone to see in me something that I'm fast beginning to believe doesn't exist. I saw I don't believe in love anymore, or that I don't care, or that it doesn't matter, but it's all a lie. I do believe in love, but soon I'm going to run out of hope for myself. I can only care for so long before it hurts too much, and I don't know how much time I have left. I don't want to be a cold, bitter bitch for the rest of my life. So, Santa, all I ask for this year is love. All I've ever wanted is love. Have I been good enough this year?
Unless you've been in my position, I don't think you'd understand. All I want is to know love. I want to feel love. I want to see love. I want to be love and be in love. I want to be able to go to bed each night and know that somewhere in the world there is someone who I mean more to than anything else, whether he's sleeping beside me or half way across the world on some trip. I want someone who can make me feel more beautiful than I could ever see myself, even when I am lying in bed sick, wearing sweatpants, and my face splotchy and red from bawling my eyes out to P. S. I Love You. I want someone who will have my back when it feel like the rest of the world has turned on me and I can't hold myself together on my own. I want someone to be with, to depend on, and who can depend on me to be all that I want of him when he needs me.
I've never had that love. I've never even had that silly, really, really like with anyone. I've felt that way before, but no one has ever felt that way about me. Ever. I'm the girl who never had a date to the school dances. I'm that girl that always got looked over for someone else. When that has been your entire life, it's hard to ever believe that you'll ever find anyone who feels that way about you. It's hard to believe that anyone will find you cute or pretty or attractive or beautiful because, if no one's ever thought that in 22 years, how could it even be true?
All I want is for someone to prove me wrong. All I want is for someone to see in me something that I'm fast beginning to believe doesn't exist. I saw I don't believe in love anymore, or that I don't care, or that it doesn't matter, but it's all a lie. I do believe in love, but soon I'm going to run out of hope for myself. I can only care for so long before it hurts too much, and I don't know how much time I have left. I don't want to be a cold, bitter bitch for the rest of my life. So, Santa, all I ask for this year is love. All I've ever wanted is love. Have I been good enough this year?
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Why I love Coach Beiste:
While I have been Glee pretty much religiously since it's preview of the first episode back in May 2009, I will be the first to admit that, lately, there have been several times I have been disappointed in it. Even some of my favorite characters can disappoint me. Even so, I can't help but watch every week because, when it's good, it's really good. When it's good, it relates such an amazing powerful message to the viewers out there who could be going though the very same things in their lives. I am one of those people.
From the beginning, I had always loved Kurt, and when they introduced Mike O'Malley as his father, I was beyond ecstatic, but it wasn't until season two that they brought on a character that really meant something to me. The day I first saw the episode "Never Been Kissed", I bawled like a baby and fell in love with the character of Coach Beiste. I fell in love because, finally, there was a character that really spoke to me. Finally, there was someone who's troubles were just like mine. Finally, there was someone I could point to and say "That's exactly what I've been through. That's me." I am Coach Beiste.
I'm not even generalizing here. Besides the fact that Dot Marie-Jones's character is older than me and is a huge fan of sports and weightlifting, we are pretty much the same person. When she confessed to Will in that episode that she had never had a boyfriend, nor been in love, and had never been kissed, I bawled because I knew that feeling. To this day, I have never had a boyfriend, nor been in love, and at 22 and a half years old, I have never been kissed. Honestly, it makes you feel like shit. It makes you feel ugly and worthless because in all your life, no one has ever liked you enough to want to date you or even kiss you. It makes you feel like you're not good enough. Now, here was this amazing, strong woman who was experiencing the same problems I was. I wasn't alone.
Then, there is the more recent episode "The First Time". Once again, Coach Beiste and I are eerily similar. When that guy kept trying to subtly ask her out, she remained completely oblivious to the point where, in the next episode, it may have cost her the guy she loved. When it comes to guys, I am completely oblivious. I couldn't tell if a guy was hitting on me to save my life. Unless he comes out and says "I like you, date me." I really don't think I'd have a clue. It's pretty ridiculous. I think I know why Coach Beiste and I are like this, though. When you've lived as long as we have without a single guy saying they like you or they think you're attractive or anything, you don't expect it from anyone, so, when someone tries to hint at it, you don't even notice it or just think it's a joke. Why would someone like you this time? And you're not about to put yourself out there and say you like a guy, because they've never liked you before and this guy probably won't be any different and you don't want to look stupid or get your heart broken. So you don't and miss all the signs.
So, Glee, please, please, please, let Coach Beiste get her man. Give girls like me some hope. And boys out there, please don't be vague. Some of us won't get that you mean it.
From the beginning, I had always loved Kurt, and when they introduced Mike O'Malley as his father, I was beyond ecstatic, but it wasn't until season two that they brought on a character that really meant something to me. The day I first saw the episode "Never Been Kissed", I bawled like a baby and fell in love with the character of Coach Beiste. I fell in love because, finally, there was a character that really spoke to me. Finally, there was someone who's troubles were just like mine. Finally, there was someone I could point to and say "That's exactly what I've been through. That's me." I am Coach Beiste.
I'm not even generalizing here. Besides the fact that Dot Marie-Jones's character is older than me and is a huge fan of sports and weightlifting, we are pretty much the same person. When she confessed to Will in that episode that she had never had a boyfriend, nor been in love, and had never been kissed, I bawled because I knew that feeling. To this day, I have never had a boyfriend, nor been in love, and at 22 and a half years old, I have never been kissed. Honestly, it makes you feel like shit. It makes you feel ugly and worthless because in all your life, no one has ever liked you enough to want to date you or even kiss you. It makes you feel like you're not good enough. Now, here was this amazing, strong woman who was experiencing the same problems I was. I wasn't alone.
Then, there is the more recent episode "The First Time". Once again, Coach Beiste and I are eerily similar. When that guy kept trying to subtly ask her out, she remained completely oblivious to the point where, in the next episode, it may have cost her the guy she loved. When it comes to guys, I am completely oblivious. I couldn't tell if a guy was hitting on me to save my life. Unless he comes out and says "I like you, date me." I really don't think I'd have a clue. It's pretty ridiculous. I think I know why Coach Beiste and I are like this, though. When you've lived as long as we have without a single guy saying they like you or they think you're attractive or anything, you don't expect it from anyone, so, when someone tries to hint at it, you don't even notice it or just think it's a joke. Why would someone like you this time? And you're not about to put yourself out there and say you like a guy, because they've never liked you before and this guy probably won't be any different and you don't want to look stupid or get your heart broken. So you don't and miss all the signs.
So, Glee, please, please, please, let Coach Beiste get her man. Give girls like me some hope. And boys out there, please don't be vague. Some of us won't get that you mean it.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.
While sometimes I may wonder if, in fact, I am insane, I don't think this is the answer. So why, then, do I continue to do the same damn thing, hoping that things might be different? I know how it ends every single time, yet my heart refuses to listen to reason.
Thus, I have come to the only conclusion that can possibly make sense: My heart is a masochist.
Why else would it continue to fall for guy after guy when I know how it will always end? It doesn't matter how many times my mind tries to be rational, my heart refuses to listen. "He doesn't like you that way. Guys like that don't like girls who look like you. It's not worth your time - you know how it always ends." Instead, my heart listens to hopes and dreams and wishes as if they were truth instead of make believe and lies. Like a goddamn enabler they say, "But he's such a nice guy! Maybe he won't care what you look like. Maybe he'll think you're pretty. Maybe this time he'll like you, too." And like the fucking dumbass it is, my heart goes along with it.
"I don't want to see you get your heart broken," my friend says. My heart doesn't seem to agree. "Let's get broken!" my heart says. My heart is not my friend. But, try as I may, I can't get the damn thing to go away. I can't get it to listen to reason. Instead, it follows hopes and dreams around like a gullible child in awe. If only my hopes and dreams would go jump off a cliff so my heart could follow suit and leave me be with my rational thoughts. Then I won't have to worry about getting hurt anymore. Then I won't have to live with the pain of knowing I will never be loved by anyone because love won't matter anymore.
While sometimes I may wonder if, in fact, I am insane, I don't think this is the answer. So why, then, do I continue to do the same damn thing, hoping that things might be different? I know how it ends every single time, yet my heart refuses to listen to reason.
Thus, I have come to the only conclusion that can possibly make sense: My heart is a masochist.
Why else would it continue to fall for guy after guy when I know how it will always end? It doesn't matter how many times my mind tries to be rational, my heart refuses to listen. "He doesn't like you that way. Guys like that don't like girls who look like you. It's not worth your time - you know how it always ends." Instead, my heart listens to hopes and dreams and wishes as if they were truth instead of make believe and lies. Like a goddamn enabler they say, "But he's such a nice guy! Maybe he won't care what you look like. Maybe he'll think you're pretty. Maybe this time he'll like you, too." And like the fucking dumbass it is, my heart goes along with it.
"I don't want to see you get your heart broken," my friend says. My heart doesn't seem to agree. "Let's get broken!" my heart says. My heart is not my friend. But, try as I may, I can't get the damn thing to go away. I can't get it to listen to reason. Instead, it follows hopes and dreams around like a gullible child in awe. If only my hopes and dreams would go jump off a cliff so my heart could follow suit and leave me be with my rational thoughts. Then I won't have to worry about getting hurt anymore. Then I won't have to live with the pain of knowing I will never be loved by anyone because love won't matter anymore.
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