But I am lazy.
I lack ambition and motivation to a degree... ever since a terrible rut in my life I have lost a large amount of my drive to do anything consistently... but that's another post. It the reason why I stopped blogging on Myspace, why I stopped submitting articles to Helium.com, why I stopped charting my daily caloric intake on Sparkpeople.com, why I stopped my diet altogether, and why my room is a terrific mess. These things-- which I would otherwise enjoy doing ((yes, even the caloric charting... these 15 pounds aren't going to burn themselves))-- have been subject to my lethargy and fallen flat off the map.
Let's hope that Blogger becomes addictive instead of a chore. I really think this could be healthy for me. I restrain my... shall we call it, "blogging urges" on other sites ((Myspace and Facebook)) because all my friends see is a string of writing, and as members of the technological "faster and more efficient" society, they cannot tolerate that much writing. But having an official "blog" is different, because honestly, there is nothing else to do on this site except blog.
Last night I was thinking and I wrote a little somethin' somethin' that I'll share here. Granted, I wrote it with that "don't think, just write" mindset, so it may not be entirely clean or coherent. But it's raw and edgy. Society smiles upon that sort of thing, doesn't it?
Warning: crude language
It's so easy to call me a bitch, isn't it? It's too easy, really, to call any and every woman a bitch. But what of that? What of the male specimen makes it so that they have more names to choose from? Gross men come in all varieties, yet women-- gross or not-- always come in one flavor: bitch.
A rude man is an ass hole. A rude woman is a bitch.
A mean man is a jerk. A mean woman is a bitch.
An insufferable man is a douchebag. An insufferable woman is a bitch.
Bitch, bitch, bitch; tall, grande, venti, it's all the same.
Why can't a woman be a jerk? Or an ass hole? Douchebag? Dick? Prick? I know they exist, but they are all smothered by bland bitchiness. Bitches: express yourselves! We will no longer stand for this mistreatment. Ladies, in my heart you are all ass holes and douches. We are. It is not the man's place to deny us of those adjectives. Men are bitches!
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So... that's that. An absent-minded rant. In retrospect it sounds
- Aristocratic
- Feminist
- Disjoint
I do do that. The aristocratic thing, I mean. As my good friend Kimi Moore once said in my defense (to a rude and judgmental acquaintance who regards me as a know-it-all): "She makes it a point to be knowledgeable about things." And I do. I do make it a point to be knowledgeable about things. I like using large and obscure words like "pugnacious" and "iota." And I hate when people use the word "irregardless" because I KNOW that's not a word. Additionally, "alright" is not a correct spelling and I want to spread the gospel that it is, in fact, "all right."
Why do I like to be knowledgeable about things? Because I'm not stupid; and there's no reason for me to be. I value my education. Some people take offense to that, such as my rude and judgmental acquaintance. To such people I say: "Kiss my fanny!" And watch them explode in anger that I said "fanny" instead of just saying "ass."
Although their annoyance is not always unwarranted. Granted, the people who are bitter towards intellectuals usually only feel that way because they don't like to be burdened with the notion that maybe they shouldn't be living in blissful ignorance, but sometimes, I too get annoyed by intellectual people who just try too hard to make their brains known. I get extraordinarily annoyed. It's pompous. And I am not impressed. Those who impress me are those who go about their lives in a nonchalant manner. I have little to no patience for people who walk into a room and announce their life's tragedies or triumphs sheerly for the sake of gaining attention.
!!EXAMPLE!! There is a girl I know who is pregnant, and hell if she has not left anyone out of this loop. The girl wants EVERYONE to be shocked at her pregnant-teen-ness. ((Sorry toots, at our high school, teen pregnancy is just not that much of a shocker)).
At about one month she was walking around with her hand on her belly. Because, you know, that's what pregnant people do. She wore nothing but overalls and loose clothing. Because, you know, that's what pregnant people wear. She flaunted sonogram after sonogram after sonogram of the little tadpole-turning-into-a-gerbil all around campus, practically stapling them to doorways with a little arrow next to it reading, "I'M A TEENAGER AND THIS IS IN MY STOMACH. AREN'T YOU SHOCKED?!" I RE: I don't care, and no.
So essentially, everyone is sick of hearing about her baby. Now that I've got you up to speed.
I am currently recovering from a bout of Pneumonia. It's truly awful. I was on campus yesterday and I entered the Drama Room ((my haven)), and there was Preggers sitting with her feet reclined, probably hoping that someone would ask why her feet were reclined, so that she could tell them how it was relevant to her baby, because, you know, she's pregnant. I came in coughing and wheezing, and Preggers says to me, "Uh oh, are you sick?"
"Yeah, I've got Pneumonia."
"Oh... well don't cough on me."
The typical conversation I'd shared with over twenty people throughout the past two weeks. I don't know why people feel like they should order me to not cough on them; do they think I don't know any better? "Aw, shucks, I'll try'n remember not to. You have a loverly day."
Anyway, I feel our interaction will progress no further and I REALLY don't want to have a conversation about a baby I don't care about, so I turn to leave, but before I'm gone...
"'Cause, you know, getting sick will weaken my baby's immune system."
Right then and there I was so close-- so close-- to shouting "I GET IT ALREADY, YOU'RE PREGNANT!" And then play the bongos on her slightly pooched stomach. But I didn't. I just rolled my eyes discretely and left before I had to watch her rub her belly one more time. I know that bugger ain't kicking yet.
!!END OF EXAMPLE!!
Now, I may be calling the kettle black on this one because I'm a bit histrionic, but I truly believe those who command the most attention are those who are genuine in their motives: the girl who screams "WHAT?!" because she is truly shocked, not because she wants the whole room to turn and look at her in wonderment. The boy who consistenly wears bright green sneakers because they are the only sneakers he owns, not because he wants to be known as the "Green Shoe Kid."
Those are... terrible... examples, but you work with what you've got: your imagination.
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