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[notwhereiwas]

No matter how I try, I can’t stop thinking about one of the saddest stories I heard a few months ago from a fellow Service member. It was a spot on representation of just how fucked up our healthcare system is. The State of the Union Address only served to piss me off more. Our representatives applauded the loss of healthcare for millions, and no fix in sight.

Anyways, during annual training in middle of the sun hot ass weather California, I was shooting the shit with one of my Soldiers. He was new to the unit and I didn’t know him very well, but he was squared away, and from his performance thus far in the training, I could tell the guy knew his shit, he was motivated, honest, hardworking. We get to talking about his family, and how many kids he had. That’s always the default, a Soldier tells me about their family, and I tell them about my cat. And well, I don’t know if it was because we were so tired, or hot, and generally commiserating in the misery that is Fort Hunter Liggett, he opened up about his daughter.

See, this guy, we’ll call him Smith, Smith did everything right on his career path. He had joined the service, served honorably, deployed overseas in actual combat. He was an infantryman for God’s sakes, and did his duty. As a civilian, he had a Master’s degree in finance, he worked for a high tech company, even purchased stock in the company, and bought the house with the picket fence. From the outside, he made it, he put in the work to live his fucking American Dream, and he did it through shear hard work and smart choices.

Unfortunately, Smith’s daughter was born premature. From what I remember, I think he said around 28 weeks. This country, that tells us it supports its troops, this country’s healthcare policy took his dream, and shit all over it, only to flush it down a gold plated toilet. He had insurance, he had a job. But it wasn’t enough, this Soldier sold his house, he sold his stock, he did everything possible…so his baby girl could live. Some doctor looked him in the face, and probably told him, “Well, we have to keep her on life-support, she might not make it, but there’s a chance…and well, the money has to come from somewhere…maybe sell your house…”

Smith talked about how small she was, what it was like in the hospital. He talked about losing everything, SO.HIS.FUCKING.CHILD.WOULDN’T.DIE.IN.THE.HOSPITAL.BECAUSE.HE.COULDN’T.PAY.

I literally listened to the guy talk about his life in ashes now…but he’s still out there, he’s still working, trying to make up for the tremendous loss. He is a decade behind in savings and assets, despite doing “everything right,” but he is still dedicated to selfless service. Smith brought out a picture of his little girl, it was from her 2nd birthday party, I think. She had the biggest brown eyes, and cutest little smile.

[notwhereiwas]

No matter how I try, I can’t stop thinking about one of the saddest stories I heard a few months ago from a fellow Service member. It was a spot on representation of just how fucked up our healthcare system is. The State of the Union Address only served to piss me off more. Our representatives applauded the loss of healthcare for millions, and no fix in sight.

Anyways, during annual training in middle of the sun hot ass weather California, I was shooting the shit with one of my Soldiers. He was new to the unit and I didn’t know him very well, but he was squared away, and from his performance thus far in the training, I could tell the guy knew his shit, he was motivated, honest, hardworking. We get to talking about his family, and how many kids he had. That’s always the default, a Soldier tells me about their family, and I tell them about my cat. And well, I don’t know if it was because we were so tired, or hot, and generally commiserating in the misery that is Fort Hunter Liggett, he opened up about his daughter.

See, this guy, we’ll call him Smith, Smith did everything right on his career path. He had joined the service, served honorably, deployed overseas in actual combat. He was an infantryman for God’s sakes, and did his duty. As a civilian, he had a Master’s degree in finance, he worked for a high tech company, even purchased stock in the company, and bought the house with the picket fence. From the outside, he made it, he put in the work to live his fucking American Dream, and he did it through shear hard work and smart choices.

Unfortunately, Smith’s daughter was born premature. From what I remember, I think he said around 28 weeks. This country, that tells us it supports its troops, this country’s healthcare policy took his dream, and shit all over it, only to flush it down a gold plated toilet. He had insurance, he had a job. But it wasn’t enough, this Soldier sold his house, he sold his stock, he did everything possible…so his baby girl could live. Some doctor looked him in the face, and probably told him, “Well, we have to keep her on life-support, she might not make it, but there’s a chance…and well, the money has to come from somewhere…maybe sell your house…”

Smith talked about how small she was, what it was like in the hospital. He talked about losing everything, SO.HIS.FUCKING.CHILD.WOULDN’T.DIE.IN.THE.HOSPITAL.BECAUSE.HE.COULDN’T.PAY.

I literally listened to the guy talk about his life in ashes now…but he’s still out there, he’s still working, trying to make up for the tremendous loss. He is a decade behind in savings and assets, despite doing “everything right,” but he is still dedicated to selfless service. Smith brought out a picture of his little girl, it was from her 2nd birthday party, I think. She had the biggest brown eyes, and cutest little smile.

[notwhereiwas]

I’m a Veteran, I waited 5 months to see a primary care provider after my third deployment, 2 more until I can get a pap smear

"But they have long wait times in Canada!"

I am from the USA.

I have one of the most top-teir private insurance plans available.

I live in a city with four, count ‘em, FOUR hospitals.

I have been a patient of my pulmonologist for 2 years.

I scheduled my next appointment today. The first available appointment?

In three and a half months.

Please stop with this “you can see a specialist in a week!” Nonsense. No you can’t. Not with elite insurance and not as an existing patient. I’ve had to make specialist appointments as far as 8 months out.

Yesterday I made an appointment with my primary for a somewhat urgent matter. His next available? In 3 weeks.

I hate going to the emergency room because the average wait time is 4-10 hours. I ended up in a coma once because of complications caused by the wait time.

I am in the most medically privileged position a chronically ill person in the US can be, and the wait times to see my doctor are still very very long.

There are people in my country who can’t even afford to go to the doctor and people justify it by saying “but in Canada, they have to ~*wait*~.

We wait here too. We wait JUST AS LONG, and sometimes even LONGER.

But not everyone gets to wait, and they die because of it.

That disgusts me.

Universal health care now, please. And yes, my full time working, disabled, chronically ill self is more than happy to fork over taxes so that nobody goes without healthcare-even the people I don’t like!

[notwhereiwas]

No Win

No matter how I try, I can’t stop thinking about one of the saddest stories I heard a few months ago from a fellow Service member. It was a spot on representation of just how fucked up our healthcare system is. The State of the Union Address only served to piss me off more. Our representatives applauded the loss of healthcare for millions, and no fix in sight. 

Anyways, during annual training in middle of the sun hot ass weather California, I was shooting the shit with one of my Soldiers. He was new to the unit and I didn’t know him very well, but he was squared away, and from his performance thus far in the training, I could tell the guy knew his shit, he was motivated, honest, hardworking. We get to talking about his family, and how many kids he had. That’s always the default, a Soldier tells me about their family, and I tell them about my cat. And well, I don’t know if it was because we were so tired, or hot, and generally commiserating in the misery that is Fort Hunter Liggett, he opened up about his daughter.

See, this guy, we’ll call him Smith, Smith did everything right on his career path. He had joined the service, served honorably, deployed overseas in actual combat. He was an infantryman for God��s sakes, and did his duty. As a civilian, he had a Master’s degree in finance, he worked for a high tech company, even purchased stock in the company, and bought the house with the picket fence. From the outside, he made it, he put in the work to live his fucking American Dream, and he did it through shear hard work and smart choices.

Unfortunately, Smith’s daughter was born premature. From what I remember, I think he said around 28 weeks. This country, that tells us it supports its troops, this country’s healthcare policy took his dream, and shit all over it, only to flush it down a gold plated toilet. He had insurance, he had a job. But it wasn’t enough, this Soldier sold his house, he sold his stock, he did everything possible...so his baby girl could live. Some doctor looked him in the face, and probably told him, “Well, we have to keep her on life-support, she might not make it, but there’s a chance...and well, the money has to come from somewhere...maybe sell your house...” 

Smith talked about how small she was, what it was like in the hospital. He talked about losing everything, SO.HIS.FUCKING.CHILD.WOULDN’T.DIE.IN.THE.HOSPITAL.BECAUSE.HE.COULDN’T.PAY.

I literally listened to the guy talk about his life in ashes now...but he’s still out there, he’s still working, trying to make up for the tremendous loss. He is a decade behind in savings and assets, despite doing “everything right,” but he is still dedicated to selfless service. Smith brought out a picture of his little girl, it was from her 2nd birthday party, I think. She had the biggest brown eyes, and cutest little smile. 

[notwhereiwas]

Why Women Marched Against Trump

 Backstory:

I had spent a bit too much time on social media following the mudslide that is the new Trump administration and a peculiar situation unfurled. A male friend of mine posted a photo meant to critique the Women’s March by using photos of assumed Muslim women being stoned, wearing Hijab’s and being abused in various other manners. The intention of the post (supposedly originally written by a woman) was to discredit the march, with the implication that they had no idea why women marched because American women, come on, we have it so great and we should just be thankful we don’t have the life of a Middle Eastern Woman. 

I decided to reply that I found it interesting that suddenly he had actual feelings for the things the women pictured dealt with, when prior to the march, not a word was said. Then, a friend of my friend then engaged in a conversation with me online. He questioned the things I mentioned, and questioned why I never did anything about the previous assaults, sexual harassment and various other illegal activities that applied to me for the simple fact that I was a woman. 

The following is a transcript of some of the conversation, if you’re so inclined:

Me: I absolutely adore how many posts I'm seeing about males bringing up how women from other countries are suffering...when they gave zero shits about those same oppressed women when zero American women were marching.

 Friend: i am a firm believer in understanding the truth. and the truth is.. that women in america have it great! men in america have it great! black people in america have it great. same with all other races and genders. america is great. and to be blessed with this american life, is ignored and forgotten by many. especially those protesting for the wrong reasons. for example.. the article above shows how american women have it great in america. i volunteered in our military for the sole purpose to serve protect and defend those given rights. so those who protest need to not act like they dont exist because they do in fact exist and are very much real

 Me:Would you kindly tell that to the average 3 women A DAY murdered by their partners in the U.S.? I love that you think we have it great, and by God as my witness we certainly do in so many regards that I'm thankful for, but until you've had a penis inside your vagina against your will, until you are denied told you can't have your tubes tied because "your future husband might want kids", until you walk down the street and are propositioned for blow jobs on a college campus, until you are asked in a job interview if you plan in having children, until you have had a fellow service member comment on your ass while you're trying to qualify (for my nonmilitary people this means shooting guns on a range), until you're asked how you got your promotion besides being on your knees, kindly refrain from trying to explain to me why I shouldn't have the right to protest and tell me how I should do it, not a single arrest was made during the women's march ( not the case on actual inauguration day - as that day WAS NOT a sanctioned " Women's March")..you know very well I love this country as I've dedicated 3 tours to the cause.

 Random Guy: ..until you are denied (and) told you can't have your tubes tied because "your future husband might want kids"....PLEASE cite research into your claims above. The rest of your ramblings are ridiculous as well...but specifically explain yourself about this. As far as no (per your research?) arrests during the March on Saturday, there are thousands that SHOULD have been cited for LITTERING. Also, Madonna should have been locked up immediately.One more thing...if everything you claimed were actually epidemic in our society of today, why is this so? Obama was the President over the past 8 years. Where was he during the above atrocities against women? I'll await your response there.

 Me: Umm those were first hand references...soooo.

 Random Guy: You posted it....soooo....defend your comments.

 Me: I'm confused what I need to defend...please explain it to me

 Random Guy: I can specifically cite laws and regulations against everything you said. Sooo....unless you plan to defend your assertions, you're just a blowhard with a hard-on against men.

 Me: Weird how people don't always follow the law...I happen to love most men but thanks for caring

 Random Guy: Once again, "...until you are denied (and) told you can't have your tubes tied because "your future husband might want kids"....PLEASE cite research into your claims that females can't have their tubes tied because your future husband might want kids.

 Me: Like, you want a blow by blow or should I say thrust by thrust account of my rape?

 Me: It's what my doctor told me, until I found a new one

 Random Guy: I'm sorry for any injustice you've experienced in your lifetime but you don't speak for all women. Your ramblings are indicative of a victim mentality. It's also ILLEGAL for an employer to ask, in an interview, whether the applicant plans to have kids in the future.Any rational and sane person would KNOW that ANY female can get a tubal ligation at any time without anyone denying them.

 Me: I'm not saying every woman feels this way.

 Random Guy: If your Doctor actually told you something like that, why didn't you report him or her? If someone said "nice ass" or otherwise sexually harassed you, why didn't you report him or her? If an employer asked you whether you plan to have kids in the future, why didn't you report them?

 Me: Hmm let's talk about that, during a court marshall I actually did, thanks though

 Random Guy: If this is just the "(Insert my name here,) Victim" story, why not write a book instead of attacking people because of your unfortunate past?

I then replied I had written a book, where he proceeded to tell me he hopes I have a good editor because what I was saying was very unprofessional and inflammatory. I also asked my friend if he felt attacked, but got not response, he was silent thereafter. Rando (as I’ll now refer to random guy of which I won’t release his name) then wished me well and stated he hoped to see me on CNN one day.

The thing is, the conversation and what felt like a personal attack floored me. I had so much to say in reply but it just wouldn’t come out. The blatant denial of facts and cultural context obliterated any sense I had in trying to verbalize any rebuttal. 

I thought about the conversation for days. Was I wrong, was I a thankless ingrate feminazi, brimming with privilege I didn’t even know I had? Was the epidemic of the maltreatment of women in our country skewed by my own experience?

I reached out. I asked women in my own social media circle to share their stories with me. I asked them, if they had ever experienced abuse, why didn’t they “Deal with it,” as suggested by the gentleman I spoke to. Here is one single response I received out of many, some details have been changed for autonomy:

Anyway....if by "dealing with it" at the time it occurs people mean stop it, walk out on it, or something like that, all I can say from my own experience is:  abuse doesn't start with the physical. What my partner did was to undermine me - my intelligence, my abilities to "make it" without him,  and later, my abilities to care for my son. By that time, my self-esteem was completely gone and the physical abuse followed. I knew it was wrong, but I (inexplicably) was convinced by then that I really WAS as stupid and incompetent as he thought I was. He also told me that if I ever left him, he would take our son and I would never see him again. The abuser causes you to question everything: it's gaslighting at its most effective. "He didn't really mean to hit me, did he? It was a mistake. It won't happen again. Besides, he loves me!" And I'll be honest...I was lucky. I had a supportive family who loved me and my child. And yet it happened to me. 

For privacy reasons, I am choosing not to mention the other responses I received. They included rape and molestation but also a resounding tone of shame and guilt from the women who shared. This isn’t anything new, we all know why women don’t speak out, we know the impact of such things, why they don’t “Deal with it,” when it happens. I feel like those who make statements such as they should have been stronger, done something about it, they should just be followed up with, “just being pussies,” because that is the feeling I had from Rando, who, come on, literally called me a Victim, when I was simply stating facts. This guy knew nothing about me, the fact that I did leave, that I did fight, that I did climb out of the burn pits, on a few occasions. This man was ordering me to defend my actions in a cloud of disbelief. He didn’t give credit to those fucking warriors, men and women, who eventually said, “Enough is enough.” 

It boils down to this concept that some people refuse to admit exists. VICTIM BLAMING, when you lead a conversation with the victim about assault with the words, “Why didn’t you...” Sorry not sorry, fuck you and fuck that uncircumcised beast you rode in on. When this phrase is said, it’s implying that outright, it was my/our responsibility to prevent whatever happened to me/us from happening, as opposed to um...people not raping/assaulting/abusing/harassing other people, point blank. I did what I could when I could to alleviate the things that happened, but why should that sole responsibility ride on my shoulders. 

I once posted a comment on Facebook that I regret to this day. I said, something along the lines of, “Well, I don’t go walking down a dark alley waving around a wad of cash, expecting not to get robbed.” This logic is flawed in that yes, people will hurt you...BUT THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT OK, AND THOSE PEOPLE SHOULD BE HELD RESPONSIBLE in such a way as to fear the four horseman if they do decide to sexually assault an unconscious female behind a dumpster. Something tells me Brock Turner serving only a three month jail sentence after committing such an act, will not make people fear their transgressions. Therefore, there’s no reason for the majority of sex offenders to NOT offend, the payoff is worth more than their punishment, if they get one at all. 

Let me be clear here, Rando did state he believed women had every right to protest. His and my friend’s point to me was, women have it great in America and we should be grateful for it. I got it, I won’t argue with that, I grovel to my God every day for the things given to me...to a point. We undeniably have it pretty good, but let me ask, what the actual fuck is wrong with wanting better?

 Rando also told me that instead of marching, the women should have volunteered at shelters or something....For how long Rando, how long should they have volunteered, until the violence miraculously stopped? You’re telling me eventually, if we just keep giving 5 hours a week to a shelter, the abused would stop coming in? Giving aid to victims is most definitely a duty, one that I’ve taken on in the past, but let me be clear, it is a bandaid. Every day more women and children come into the shelters and transitional housing, at least when there’s room. It’s the same with homelessness. Providing shelter and care is a step, but it is not the cure. Cultural change is, and guess what causes cultural change? I’m not going to explain it to you Rando, just maybe, I don’t know, go study the Civil Rights leaders and see how Andrew Goodman, Elizabeth Freeman, Lucy Stone, W.E.B. Du Bois, Harry Hay did it (I’ve got my own reading list on hand now). 

I acknowledge that just protesting doesn’t work for social change (which is what we’re agreeing is needed here right), it takes more than that, legislation, policy change, invention, actual culture change, and surprise, tension and conflict (which come on, the marches obviously did that so don’t tell me they should have done something else)  I also know that planting my ass at a check-in desk at a women’s shelter is not part of the advancement bargain, it is a maintainer and I’m sorry that’s all you want, the maintenance of your own life’s standards. 

 Just because women elsewhere survive far greater things than some of us here, I refuse to sit down, shut up, and ignore that the American Dream isn’t a whisper of a lie. If I were to accept my wonderful fate of living in this nation, no questions asked, no protesting had, I think I might have to ignore some striking statistics.

Fun facts: 

From 2002 to 2012, the number of women killed by intimate partners was 15,462, according to data from James A. Fox, a Northeastern University criminology professor who adjusted federal data for unsolved homicide cases believed to be linked to intimate partners. 

The total deaths from Sept. 11 and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan is a maximum of 9,838 (As of 2013, 147 women were killed since 2001) . It’s lower when we exclude non-American victims on Sept. 11. Weeeird, so you’re telling me more women were killed in America than in those Muslim countries we’re banning because they’re such a threat to domestic security. You’re telling me, as a woman, I’m safer going to war than dating someone? Gotcha’. 

The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence has found that, on average, nearly 20 people per minute are physically abused by an intimate partner in the United States. During one year, this equates to more than 10 million women and men. 1 in 3 women and 1 in 4 men have been victims of [some form of] physical violence by an intimate partner within their lifetime. So, Rando, American men could stand to do better as well. 

On a typical day, there are more than 20,000 phone calls placed to domestic violence hotlines nationwide. 

The cost of intimate partner violence exceeds $8.3 billion per year. Rando, THAT’S why I don’t care that protestors didn’t get cited for littering, it wouldn’t have come close to making a dent in that debt. 

Women are more likely to suffer domestic violence than they are cancer, which the rate of cancer for women is considered an epidemic. So yes, Rando, it is an epidemic...as to why women are marching now about it, there is this thing called Take Back the Night, which is an international event and non-profit organization with the mission of ending sexual, relationship, and domestic violence in all forms. Hundreds of events are held in over 30 countries annually. Events often include marches, rallies and vigils intended as a protest and direct action against rape and other forms of sexual, relationship, and domestic violence. In 2001, a group of women who had participated in the earliest Take Back the Night marches, came together to form the Take Back the Night Foundation in support of the events throughout the United States and the world. These events existed during the Obama administration and beyond which, let’s get into that, why weren’t we crying about it when Obama was President. I’m just going to pop in this little link to take care of some of that: https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2014/08/26/fact-sheet-obama-administration-record-women-and-girls

So, it appears the Obama administration took strides in addressing the issue plaguing our nation, though I will not pretend it was enough. So why march now in the millions simply because we now have a President that supposed manhaters can’t stand? Oh I don’t know, it might be because our current President (he who must not be named) has said the following statements about women:

Said that Fox News’ Megyn Kelly had “blood coming out of her wherever“ after she moderated a GOP debate and questioned Trump for having previously labeled women “fat pigs” and “dogs.” (He also retweeted a comment calling Kelly a “bimbo.”)

In reference to Fiorina, Trump took aim at her looks in an interview with Rolling Stone magazine. “Look at that face!” he said. “Would anyone vote for that? Can you imagine that, the face of our next president?!” Trump then attempted to backpedal, saying he was talking about her persona, not her physical appearance. Now, I’m not sure here, but I don’t believe he mentioned the appearance of any male running mates, I could be wrong here but double check and let me know if I’m wrong.

Trump told USA Today columnist that if his daughter were ever to be sexually harassed at work, he hopes she’d just move on. “I would like to think she would find another career or find another company if that was the case,” he said. As opposed to, oh I don’t know, “I would hope if she felt she needed help in standing up, she would come to me, or other trusted allies to get the piece of shit harassing her kicked out on his/her ass where they belong...you know, change the fucking culture, or if she didn’t want to prosecute, feel safe in knowing I’d support her regardless.” Because again, I couldn’t ask him to demand she “do something about it,” because that is not anyone’s decision but hers.

He tweeted that military sexual assault should basically be expected, what with men and women serving in the military together. This fall, Matt Lauer gave Trump an opportunity to amend his comments in a forum hosted by NBC, but Trump did not. “Well, it is a correct tweet,” he said. Basically, again he chalked it up to the fact that men just can’t help themselves, as opposed to saying something along the lines of...”We have to do better.” 

And my favorite:

I moved on her like a bitch, but I couldn't get there, and she was married. Then all of a sudden I see her, she's now got the big phony tits and everything. I'm automatically attracted to beautiful [women]—I just start kissing them. It's like a magnet. Just kiss. I don't even wait. And when you're a star they let you do it. You can do anything ... Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything. In this case he could have said...no, nothing else he could have said, he should have just shut the fuck up unless it was to compliment/analyze literally anything other than the physical appearance of a woman.

I’m not even going to get into the rumors of rape charges and pedophilia against the man, because...according to the nation, all those women were “obviously lying,” and I can’t dispute that nonsense, I don’t have the strength.

So, Rando, that might be why women specifically marched a day after this upstanding American Citizen was inaugurated. It’s because, after this man was elected to the most respected position in our nation, I believe it created a foreboding disastrous future for women and even men. When the recording of the pussy statement came out, everyone shrugged their shoulder and said it was lockerroom banter, thereby signaling to American men and everyone else, that this was acceptable language towards our nation’s daughters, mothers, sisters...American Women. Guess what, it’s not. 

So, I guess my last comment to you Rando and everyone else saying that the women didn’t march for them because they were doing just peachy is, you’re lucky. 

[notwhereiwas]

ohhhh laaaawd I needed to hear this

Your happiness and health are important. It’s okay to leave.

[notwhereiwas]

Little situation at Sephora today: I go in, specifically because I haven’t been able to get my hands on some Shape Tape from Ulta because there’s apparently a “manufacturer issue,” and I refuse to order it online because...shipping..adding credit card info to yet another website...roommates will know what I’m spending money on... wanting to touch things before I buy them. 

Herein is my last will and testament of what happened as I browsed the Tarte section while wearing sweatpants and sporting 3-day-old natural curly hair, without a stitch of makeup on my face.

Sephora lady: (pops out of a drawer from a display case of lip shellacs or glosses, whatever you wanna’ call them) CAN I HELP YOU FIND ANYTHING???!!!

I jump because...I.did.not.see.her.coming. I don’t dare look her in the face. One, because I think her gaze will burn my eyes out from the shame of her perfect eyeliner and my lack of a cut crease and hooded eyelids, and two, because she stands a foot taller than me and it would take too much time anyways to make eye contact.

Me: Uh yeah, I’m looking for Shape Tape, please.

Sephora lady: Oh, that’s only exclusive to Ulta, unfortunately we don’t carry it here....(undoubtedly calls me the dumbest piece of shit she’s laid eyes on today)

Panic sets in...how did I let this happen, how could I have NOT known they didn’t carry it, I’m going to go die now as the lady from Game of Thrones rings her bell and shouts “Shame” at me, only I’m not naked, I’m wearing a Crossfit sweatshirt and I haven’t even done Crossfit for like...two years now...

Me: But they never haaaaave it, I whine to the matte faced lady-woman in heels. (Internally I degrade myself for not knowing said fact that Sephora didn’t carry Shape Tape, somehow in my hours of watching YouTube tutorials I never got the message...but Sephora has Glam Glow and Ulta doesn’t...and Ulta doesn’t have Beauty Blenders either and Sephora does...wait a minute, this is horse shit, I’m never leaving my house again, screw it...ORDER ALLL THE THINGS ONLINE!!!)

I shake my fists in frustration at the tall woman. 

Sephora lady: Oh I’m sorry, let me know if you need help finding anything else (you idiot slug)...she then low crawls on the floor in the other direction to an elegant lady in her 70′s who needs to learn about the benefit of Retinol.

I then proceed to impulsively grab a few items off the shelves to prove my worth to these strangers in black dresses with red stripes, and I walk out spending $150 good old American Dollars to prove my worth to these wolves. All I wanted was a concealer that wouldn’t crease in my 32-year-old wrinkle lines.

Also, I quit my eight dollar an hour job today. I think this is what they meant when they said “beauty is pain.” In my fucking ass it is. 

[notwhereiwas]

I work at a thrift store stocking clothes racks with incoming donations. Today, while stocking, I put a “boy’s” shirt with skateboards splashed across it, in the little girl’s section in the hopes a tiny little kickass lady sees it and demands her parent buy it for her. 

[notwhereiwas]

Here are what the facts appear to be:

32 years old, college degree, gave up my house to “not the one” who won’t even answer texts anymore, quit $20 an hour job (this was a huuuge amount of money in my eyes) to work for $8 an hour at a retail thrift store stocking clothes on the maze of racks, single, no kids, drives a 2005 Corolla with huuuge amount of dents in it, moved away from family and friends, NOT at goal weight nor cardiovascular capacity, grossly behind in Supernatural episodes.

Here are what the facts feel to me:

I’m no longer the indubitably stupid teenager who thought boys who gave hickeys were the bee’s knees. I can walk out my back door and stare at a veritable forest and creek. I spent four years at an institution that asked more than what, where and why, but how. I will never have to be disappointed by his face one more time and instead be affirmed by someone else’s. I walk for roughly five hours a shift- no need to make it to the gym every single day nor feel guilty for eating Lucky Charms at midnight four nights out of the week. No kids, mo money. My car is mine, it’s paid for, it is literally mine and it is beautifully dinged. I call mom for the important things. Fuck my goal weight- I don’t even know what it is anymore, I’m hot- I have boudoir photos to prove it. I’ve watched Stranger Things twice.

I wouldn’t say I’ve moved on, 

[notwhereiwas]

Attending to the awkward breakup pleasantries is a lot like making a doctor’s appointment. Try as you might/or might not actually try, there are moments you have to contact your ex to sweep everything up into the dust pan, even though you may not want to, but you really DO want to.  

“Have your friends do it...like in that song,” they tell you. 

No, I will NOT be a Gotye song, you tell yourself. You tell yourself, that song is ridiculous, people who once loved each other, wouldn’t do that, amongst each other. 

But you do, treat each other like strangers, except, you’re probably more intimate with strangers these day, at least they sometimes say hello back. Really, my doctor will become all the more acquainted with my thoughts, once the heart refuses to fix itself after months of the silence, that seemed so loud. 

Yeah, the cleaning up of the fallout of breakups are a lot like making doctor’s appointments. You must find a time that works for you both, be pleasant, make no demands, because their time is more important than yours, you’re at their will to make you not sick anymore, when really, a little preventative care would have gone a lot further. You dread telling the secretary what’s wrong with you, and why you have to see them. 

Yeah, a lot like doctors. Except...even though my doctor has seen my vagina, it was never HIS favorite. My doctor never held me up and presented me to the sun. I never got drunk with my doctor and asked him to make babies. I never stared at my doctor’s bare ass, as he brushed his teeth, and thought, “fuck yeah, I can touch that any time I want.” My doctor has yet to tell me he loves me, while texting other patients. 

Maybe you could push it off until you’re actually dying...and by that point, it’s not their job. 

[notwhereiwas]

She makes me smile with her smile...

My daily photoset of cuteness. You’re welcome. 💕

[notwhereiwas]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ThQkrXHdh4)

This song doesn’t make me sad anymore...it makes me feel hopeful, hopeful, that even if I have to do it a hundred more times...I will fall, sometimes it will be hard, fast, slow, and eventually I’ll fall into myself, so steadfast I will be sturdy enough to bare the brunt of someone else’s trip.

[notwhereiwas]

You ever have trouble sleeping?

It’s obvious I do, so here’s a little ditty about a route I took to try to fix it.

I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. When it comes to going to bed, I’m like a toddler hopped up on Capri Suns, waiting to watch Frozen for the fifth time that night. I fight sleep all night, just rolling around my bed, not actually doing anything of value.

I suffer from FOMO…Fear Of Missing Out. What, I think I’m going to miss out on, while in Afghanistan, I’m not sure. I think maybe I’m scared if I don’t scroll Facebook enough, I’ll miss out on the newest meme of Leo prancing on a field of grass (WITH HIS MOTHERLUVING OSCAR THIS TIME THOUGH!).

I try to give myself a bedtime, I wind down at night by washing my face, I’s rubs the lotion on its’ skin, and try to read, but eventually log in on the computer again, sure I’m going to miss a message from a certain someone, but it never comes and then it’s three hours past the time I’m supposed to be asleep and I have to be up in five hours.

The other night, I stayed up late again, and eventually fell asleep watching one of my YouTube videos of some chick with red hair talking nonsense into the camera.

I then drifted into a dream state, where, of all things to dream about, I dreamed about leaving a comment on a YouTube channel about…..Lululemon leggings….WTF brain…I don’t even own any of those yoga pants because 1) A pair costs about 3 hours of my working life and 2) the brand suggested fat bottomed girls maybe better not buy them because apparently women were complaining when they bent over in them, they turned shear and you could see…things…so here I was in this dream, writing a raving review about how awesome they made my bum look.

Then, I think my brain was like, shut up, you’ve never even worn them…WAKE THE SHIT UP…

So I did wake up. It was 1am.

Then, I decided I was hungry. Somehow, in my groggy state, I was still polite enough to worry my roommates might hear me crinkling snacky food things (our walls are made of plywood), so I did the only thing I could think of.

I grabbed a single minnie Slim Jim and ONE Hershey Kiss, and took them to the bathroom. With my eyes closed, sitting on a toilet in the bathroom, I ate my two delicious items. Meh, at least it wasn’t bread, I thought to myself.

Then, I went back to bed…I mean, I put my body on my mattress, but there was no sleeping. As usual, my Brain was having none of that.

Brain: “Our throat hurts…that chocolate kiss thing was weird looking, it was all white and filmy on the outside of it, like, not covered in white chocolate, but just…a regular Hershey Kiss, but it looked like Powder himself blew that kiss…You remember Powder right, that movie with a bald guy in it who did some magical shit, but nothing actually really happened in the movie…I think there was a lightening scene…did he get electrocuted?”

Me: “The chocolate was fine, it was just probably slightly old.”

Brain: “Nah, seriously though, our throat hurts…what if the white stuff was mold, your  mom’s allergic to mold, maybe we’re allergic to mold too, but just don’t know it, and you just went and done ate moldy chocolate you turd fart…it really burns. I’m going to tell everyone you ate a Slim Jim on the toilet and moldy chocolate. Look what you’ve resorted to in order to have story material. Is this what Hemingway meant when he said, ‘There’s nothing to writing, all you do is sit at your typewriter and bleed,’ except now we’re bleeding internally.

Me: “Hemingway never said that, Red Smith said that shit, you pompous ass, I’m going to shut you up now.”

I got out of bed and grabbed a pen and notebook. It was so dark, I couldn’t see what I was writing, just the glowing yellow paper showing me that I was actually writing in the vicinity of the paper. I wanted to remember the conversation so I could get to the bottom of the weird looking chocolate.

I then fell back into sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The next day, I read my note and immediately had no idea why I’d written the things I did. So much for that idea, but hey, at least writing the brain shenanigans down, I was able to go back to sleep. So, there it is folks, if you can’t sleep, jot some words down, freeing up some space to allow the silence in.

[notwhereiwas]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwpMEbgC7DA)

I would give up all the reproductive eggs I have left, if someone built me a tiny screaming room, where I could listen to this song, wear rain booties, yell, and punch holes in the drywall (actually made of styrofoam) in a bike helmet, while simultaneously sicking dogs on heads of iceberg lettuce...

Fuckit, take the whole uterus, because let’s get serious, that’s the whole reason I feel like doing this anyway...today, I fell down the rabbit hole, on a red tidal wave of self-pity and my bloating isn’t enough to keep me afloat, someone...please throw me a Krispy Kreme... and not one of those bullshit ones that come from the grocery store, I’m talking hot and still alive Krispy Kreme.

Right now, I don’t know if I want to rule the world with my rage, or just cuddle with my stuffed honey badger named, Glen, while reading Matthew Hussey’s, “Get the Guy.” 

Fuck, when did I become this

[notwhereiwas]

We had a conversation about a month after The End. It was about one of my stories, “How to Embrace the Suck:Part 5.” 

That was when I realized we probably wouldn’t be friends once we’d sorted the ‘who gets what’ details out and about. 

I told you Freddy Mercury made me feel strong and like everything would be ok, all I had to do was emulate him, minus the pleather skirts and facial hair. You told me Kris Kristopherson was a way bigger badass and more deserving of respect because he was a Veteran. Kris is amazing and all, but...

You literally tried to make a proclamation about whom I should look up to.

Not today ex-boyfriend, not today!

[notwhereiwas]

And by fucking golly...getting there’s 95% of the fun...and terrorfull 

[notwhereiwas]

AND THIS...THIS...is how Hawaii is going to go down in a few months, shit...don’t even care if I have that bikini, boobs need sunshine too...and it will be without HIM

Honestly, if I make it to a sunny beach somewhere warm and lovely, I’m not going to waste that achievement by scrutinizing my body and the imperfections the beauty industry insists I have. I’m going to dance around in my bikini, take too many pictures, wade in the ocean, and soak up the sun.

The beauty and fashion industries do not define your worth.