It’s My Blog and I’ll Cry If I Want to

What was I thinking? A professional writer? I’m a hack. A loser wannabe like those Elvis impersonators. I envy artists. People whose need to express themselves pushes at their seams. I’m passive. I read and I watch and I observe and I analyze, but I’m not a creator. I’m not the one to stand up and call attention to myself.
“Express Yourself” is one of my favorite Madonna songs. Isn’t that ironic? It takes bravery to speak your mind…or even to just show the world something fictional that you’ve created. But I am a coward. I am afraid of the overwhelming criticism. I am weak and soft and I like to play-pretend that I’m original and special and smart and funny and oh-so-weird…but I’m just a fucking cliché. At least I could try to be happy with my mediocrity. I feel like Solieri in the movie Amadeus. Why oh why am I cursed with this desire to write…this love of literature…if I can’t participate?
#firstworldproblems Peace Out. SWAG. Insert every other common, ignorant, mindless saying You can think of here.


Fuck “Sexy”


The Belle Jar

Sometimes I feel like I want to ban the word sexy. Like, take that shit out of the dictionary and impose a fine whenever someone uses it.

Which is pretty funny because I’m super sex-positive and I definitely want people to feel good about their bodies and secure in their sexuality, however it manifests itself.

But man am I ever fucking tired of how we use that word to shame girls and sell them on a bunch of gross patriarchal ideas about how they should be.

Take this picture, which was tweeted/posted by Floyd Mayweather and has been making the rounds over the past few days:


Like, first of all, this is a dude who has been charged with two counts of domestic violence. Why would anybody think that what he has to say about women is even a little bit valid? I am not really down with anyone…

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Post-Birthday Post

Two days ago was my twenty-ninth birthday.

When buying birthday cards for other people, I try to avoid the kind that rely on over-the-hill gags or jokes about candles setting off smoke alarms. It occurs to me that getting older should be celebrated and not ridiculed. Why does our society so value youth? With age comes wisdom, generally, and confidence. The capacity to be comfortable with who you are, acceptance of those things in life that you cannot change. Isn’t that why we throw birthday parties in the first place? To celebrate life?

And what does that mean, to be alive?

I am so grateful for everything that Creator has blessed me with in this lifetime. I have a wonderfully gentle and loving husband, who tells me regularly how much he loves and appreciates me. I have my Bubs, who by all circumstances almost did not survive to be the adorable little center of my Universe. I am fortunate enough to be able to stay home with my son, and give him all the attention that he deserves. There is a lot of love in the three-generational family we have built in this (small) home. I am healthy. I can run and jump and play and dance and laugh with my son. I can hear. I can see.

I live in a comfortable home in a relatively safe town in a beautiful country, where I can freely take my son to any of a selection of clean and safe parks. We have plentiful access to a variety of fresh and nutritious foods, and to clean drinking water. With the flip of a switch, we have electrical power that very rarely goes out and is reasonably priced. I have a personal computer with access to reliable, wireless internet twenty-four hours a day.

I can have a hot shower in complete privacy any time it strikes my fancy.

I can read. I can write and spell and I do not have any learning disorders. I am female, but I live in a country where I can attend university and hold any job that I am qualified for. I have access to birth control and I can have an abortion if I choose. I pay taxes that cover hospital visits and vaccinations for my son and there are a hospital, a clinic and a public health office in walking distance from my home. I can afford any prescriptions that I may require.

I am fortunate to meet the current patriarchal standards of beauty.

I am grateful for my wonderful support network of friends and family that stretches the length of this great country, and that they, too, have access to all the things that I have mentioned above.

Life is good. We should all be thankful every moment of every day, for we never know when that moment is our last.

And now…ice-cream cake. I’m thankful for that too.