taboo-truths

[taboo-truths]

Sorry, Charlie Puth, Selena's "Kinda Crazy" Ain't About You!

Haven't you heard? "Everyone knows" Selena's track titled "Kinda Crazy" from her recently released album Rare is about Charlie Puth.

Umm. No. It's really not.

Uhg. Why do I even care about this with so many bigger fish to fry? God only knows. But here we go...

Back in Feb. 2018, Puth confirmed a brief, but meaningful (on his part) fling, 2 years earlier in 2016, with Selena Gomez. He seems to offer further details on this brief affair in the August, 2019 release of "I warned myself" where we're left to strongly assume he was in a relationship with Selena Gomez, who specifically tells him "... not to tell anybody" about their fling.

Therein lies the biggest problem. Shortly after Puth's 2018 reveal in a Billboard interview, sources close to Gomez almost immediately denied any such relationship. Whether or not it happened, Selena has never publicly owned it.

That's problem #1 with the "Kinda Crazy" theory that the song's about Charlie Puth. Selena would be publicly owning a "You asked me to be your babe" relationship she and "sources close to her" have always denied.

Problem #2 can be found in the context of the song. "Kinda Crazy" is not about a guy obsessed with her and who's obsession she just can't seem to ditch as implied by the Puth theorists. Instead, the song is about a guy she's crazy about. He came to her, sugared her up, asked her to be his, then ignores her and lies to her. He treats her like she's "insane" for being crazy about him.

Now, considering "A Heart Wants What it Wants" and "Lose You To Love Me," we see a 4-year trend of Selena calling out Justin Bieber for being "you make me feel crazy, you make feel like it's my fault" manipulative.

This is the exact type of manipulation Gomez also speaks to in "Kinda Crazy".

Problem #3 is that the biggest evidence Puth theorists can produce that Selena's song ia directed at Puth is the use of the word "Shady" in both Gomez's "Kinda Crazy" and Puth's "How Long".

Yes. Yes. Yes. I know Puth's 2-year-old "How Long" video provides a fiery representation of Selena Gomez in an obvious way that specifically addresses her. I can even see how many interpret the two songs correlating, but ultimately, short of the shared "shady" word, they really don't correlate at all.

It's all in the context of Selena's song which is addressed to someone she cares about, not a very brief "don't tell anybody" fling. It's addressed to someone she was in an actual relationship with. Again, Selena has never acknowledged such a relationship with Puth.

Puth knew Selena Gomez was crazy about Justin Bieber. The Weeknd knew Selena Gomez was crazy about Justin Bieber. The whole world knows Selena Gomez was crazy about Justin Bieber as revealed by the line "I gave my all and they all know it" in "Lose You To Love Me". That's a song, among many on Rare, specifically addressed to Justin Bieber.

Furthermore, Puth's "How Long" actually confesses and admits to "shady" behavior on his part. He's not trying to make the woman feel insane. He's straight-up owning he cheated in total apology which is a response in complete contradiction to the subject of Selena's "Kinda Crazy," which described a guy who manipulates her and makes her feel "insane". The same kind of "insane," that "Made me feel like I deserved it..." reveals in "Lose You To Love Me".

Selena Gomez has only ever been "crazy" about one guy... Justin Bieber. Only one guy could make her feel "insane" and has done so repeatedly as she has repeatedly revealed Bieber to be the "I wanna hold you when I'm not supposed to, when I'm lying close to someone else"... guy.

At best, Puth is one of the list of nameless, faceless "someone else's" she laid next to thinking about Bieber, and probably why Puth infamously shouted, "Fuck you, Justin Bieber!" in the middle of a song he'd once dueted with Selena.

This album is a goodbye to Bieber. It's closure. "Kinda Crazy" is about Selena finally coming into her own power and refusing to be manipulated by someone, the only one, she'd always given that kind of power to... her first love. It's the rose-colored glasses finally coming off... rose-colored lenses she never ever saw a "don't tell anybody" Charlie Puth through. No offense to Puth as I love his music, but Gomez did not love him no matter what did or didn't happen between the two.

And for those who think it's "Kinda Crazy" of me to dive this deep on a such superficial shit... I couldn't agree more. Maybe that's why the song is my favorite track on the album?

Then again, maybe I'm just tired of reading several days worth of speculative comments that are absolute logical fallacies in a "mystery" of no mystery easily resolved in the less than a 2 minute Google search and a little common sense about relationships.

And for those Beliebers, who be like "Selena should just get over it and move on!" The album is her goodbye. That's exactly what she's doing... licking her wounds, picking-up the pieces of her self-confidence, gluing them back together, and moving-on.

And so shall I. Phew! Done.

Almost. One final note: Yeah. I do believe Charlie Puth had a fling with Selena Gomez. The guy's looking more like Justin Bieber every year. Love is the shits ain't it? But the drama sure produces some yummy music...except "Yummy". That song just plain sucks.

[taboo-truths]

Does Becoming Wealthy Require Stupidity?

My headlining question may seem like a joke, but I'm not joking. As I write these words Justin Bieber's raking-in millions for literally writing and singing little more than "Yummy". Actual firefighters and teachers do not earn in their entire lifetime a fraction of what actor's earn to read cue cards and pretend to be firefighters and teachers.

Look at the "art" of Jackson Pollock or Mark Rothko... it's an easily replicated joke. Don't even get me started on Andy Warhol when Campbell's soup and Brillo boxes are a dime a dozen to be found at any grocery store.

Then, too, look at Donald Trump. Ya know, the billionaire President of the United States and hardly the first in a long line of "misunderestimated" morons.

I can't help but wonder if stupidity isn't the key to financial success in this Upside Down reality I've often heard called "Clown World". Nikola Tesla, one of humanity's great geniuses, died in poverty. Meanwhile, the most successful YouTuber is a video gamer.

Julian Assange and Chelsea Manning revealed war crimes and they both rot in prison as a largely ignored battle rages against free press and free speech. But 77 million tuned-in to Miley Cyrus's macabre circus, complete with toothy vagina, demanding we fuck off from her freedom which I guess is to publicly masturbate and fuck herself.

So glad we "feminists" have progressed from the days when ye olde doctors solved all our "hysteria" problems with masturbation. We're really showing them what's what and proving them all wrong!

Women are finally gaining a voice of respected equality at the big boys table, after Alice Paul's hunger strikes and countless other battles, and the most successful "feminists" among us are now literally playing with themselves in pussy hats. Well, that's just great.

Don't even bother throwing Elon Musk at me as if he's an example of genius made wealthy. He's basically the equivalent of Hammond in Jurassic Park... only way more narcissistic and self-serving. The dude literally launched his car on a phallic symbol and junked-up space in a giant Freudian pissing contest.

I don't want to hear about Bill Gates or Steve Jobs either. Both excelled at old school thievery moreso than innovation and/or inventiveness. The only "smarts" they had was to be smart enough to steal others work and ideas, then hire others to rebrand and redesign the invented.

Hell, even Alex Jones is a millionaire. Let me repeat that... Alex Jones is a millionaire. He earns millions "battling" wealthy elites in an InfoWar of mostly grunts and screaming about nothing. I guess the lesson to be learned is just scream "1776" really loudly and you too can be millionaire... that is if you don't feel like earning millions the Bieber way in writing a "Yummy Yum Yum" song of seduction to the wife.

Nah. I'm convinced the key to being financially successful is stupidity.

[taboo-truths]

FUCK! Dum Dums Likes Them Yum Yums

An interesting thing happened to me on Justin Bieber's YouTube release of "Yummy". It's not the first time and it won't be the last that I ever popped-off a thought in the comments of a YouTube video. I mostly write essays, because they get a heck of a lot more views than whatever I write, as a nobody, on a blogpost. Besides, I'm more about sharing ideas, than caring to make myself a brand.

I don't often watch pop videos, but I have been lately because I'm fascinated at the mass interest in such things vs what matters as I've revealed in my essay titled, "Yummy: Justin Bieber VS Julian Assange". I mostly watch philosophy and/or political commentaries where I offer essays. It never occurred to me to write such thoughtful essays in the comments of a pop video.

Justin finally released the much anticipated "Yummy," which I found hilarious. The song sucks, and I'm not just saying that because of my disgust with his popularity over and above Julian Assange's. I've had to familiarize myself with Justin Bieber, Hailey Baldwin, and Selena Gomez in the last week to be able discuss them comparatively with things that are more relevant. Selena's songs are heartfelt and raw as that girl really does have a gift for releasing emotion through music; whereas, Justin's "Yummy" came off self-serving and more frigid than soft-serve ice cream the lyrics video much more tantalizingly offered up.

So, I made a joke. It was the first thing that came to my mind. I wrote, "Selena's next album: 'Dummy'... 'Yeah I had that dummy dummy dummy dummy. He left me night and day. Whenever whoever called he was on his way."

Well, my joke, as stupid and petty as it is, actually started to go a little viral. Within an hour, my silly joke of a comment had over 600 likes. Initially, I laughed with those who laughed with me. I even let myself go enough to be somewhat playful with the kids in the kiddy pool I'd built with "ha ha" retorts like: "Dum Dum likes them yum yums".

But, then the very thing that grinds me about pop culture, understandably, smacked me in the face in the form of attacks on how I needed to "do my homework," "grow-up," and realize Justin was over Selena and in-love with his wife. Not that my original joke of a comment suggested anything remotely akin to Justin being unable to get over Selena, but okay...whatever...so be it.

I suddenly found myself at the heart of a team battle I'd already written about in a blog post with a heavy measure of concerned contempt. This acknowledgement struck me as I was being hit by Team Justin's Beliebers and Team Selena rallied around me in laughter. So, I did the unthinkable. Now, that I had some very unexpected attention, I hit both sides of the team sport as a referee of sorts and copy and pasted my essay on Julian Assange vs Justin Bieber word for word in all of it's blatant disparagement against pop culture vs what matters.

Suddenly, the phone that had been chiming, buzzing, and mingling with non-stop notifications for the last hour went completely silent. That was over 9 hours ago and the people that had been so filled with commentaries on my words no longer had a thing to say. No-one has offered any response after having been so popular and so popularly schooled to do my "homework" and "grow-up". I was left ostracized and isolated in the sudden forgotten remnants of funny in proving it wasn't me that needed to grow-up and do my homework.

Admittedly, I am absolutely fascinated by this incident as it speaks to EXACTLY what I've been ranting about in both published and unpublished writings in an odd sort of event of synchronicity. I've always used writing to think. Even now, in writing these words, I'm carving-out my thoughts.

For as much as I find the incident hilarious, I'm also very disturbed by it as if comedy and tragedy coalesced to strike at the heart of me in one instantaneous blow.

Today, I cast a small and meaningless pebble into shallow waters that easily gained widespread ripples. Excited by the effect, I threw in a boulder of immense meaning and purpose, but the waters were not deep enough to ripple it's weight. It did not make the waves I'd hoped for free press, free speech, and Julian Assange. Instead, the waters became instantly silent and still in not having the depth for the boulder to plummet and create waves. It just hit and the small puddle could only respond in an immediate and sudden splat.

Neither Team Justin or Team Selena gave a damn. In fact, my essay was off-putting to both as it was entirely avoided.

People want to throw a variety of labels at what's causing our collective problems. We love to point our fingers of blame at anything and everyone outside ourselves. But when the very people who're supposed to be the governors and leaders of democracies are way more in-tune with the inequalities of propping-up the wealth of the already wealthy in worship of God Kings and Queens, than how the hell can we have a democracy of any kind?

We not only love inequality and worship it loyally; we fight for it.

These people had all the energy in the world to battle which Pop King or Queen reigned on their favored Pop throne, and the moment I struck them with a pleading for them to come into their own power and sovereignty? Crickets.

Much ado is made in being proven right, but let me tell ya... it can really suck to be proven right.

Today, I had a meaningless comment I didn't give a damn about go viral, but as soon as I offered some substance and meaning... no-one cared. THAT's OUR PROBLEM! Not Donald Trump. Not Hillary Clinton. Not the Republicans vs the Democrats, or Christianity vs Atheism. We are our own problem. We not only don't see that basic truth... we don't want to see it.

We are, in fact, Dum Dums that much prefers arguing over Yum Yums, and that's no joke.

[taboo-truths]

Yummy: Justin Bieber VS Julian Assange.

Not gonna lie... I'm pissed-off. Justin Bieber's Seasons trailer has raked-in 1.9 million views in roughly 10 hours. That's 1.9 million people who's immediately clicked to hear the woes of what it is to be a multi-millionaire Pop Star that'd become a "shell of himself" and how "no-one's ever grown-up, in the history of humanity, like Justin Bieber."

Now, before the self-described "beliebers" defensively jump down my throat-- the very same people that drove Bieber crazy by turning a 13-year-old boy into a God in the first place--realize I'm not picking on Justin Bieber. In many ways, I'm an ally of Bieber's in realizing the cultural retardation we exhibit in diefying a fellow human being who's greatest contribution to humanity has been a list of R&B hits with titles like "Yummy".

We're citizen sovereigns begging for Kings and Queens, even if they're just Pop Stars. Think about that.

Nah. I'm not pissed-off at Justin Bieber. I am pissed-off at the fact that 1.9 million people will tune-in to a COMMERCIAL, when not even a scrap of that amount will tune-in to hear about the systematic torture and false imprisonment of a journalist that has revealed war crimes.

As I write these words, there's a widespread and full-scale assault on journalism and journalists. Julian Assange is literally rotting in a maximum security prison on NO charge in a so-called "free" and "democratic" country, yet so many of us are so far up Justin Bieber's "Yummy" ass that we do not see the not-so-dreamy reality that free press and free speech are being attacked.

So, Yeah. I got a bit of a problem with that.

This corrupt and tyrannical system USES people, like Justin Bieber, to draw focused attention away from things that truly matter and impact our lives. Meanwhile, to not stand-up for Julian Assange is to not stand-up for oneself in a battle for free press and free speech that many don't even realize has began.

The late and great John Lennon would've had a concert for Julian Assange, much like Pink Floyd's Roger Waters has done, in front of Britain's Belmarsh prison. There was a time when great artists used their power wisely, because they knew how they could be used as a distraction from things that really mattered.

There was a time when Pop and Rock Stars refused to allow themselves to be used in that way, and instead brought attention to important issues. Now, Pop Stars just wear the "War is Over" t-shirt, rub their crotch in some freedom anthem (Miley Cyrus), and totally ignore a journalist being tortured in a maximum security prison.

Latest reports have indicated Assange is being drugged as a once articulate man now struggles to find his words. He's barely allowed visitors and/or phone calls and remains locked-down in solitairy confinement while his largely harrassed family BEGS for help.

From September, 2010 to this very day, on the eve of 2020, Assange's entire case has been a total rape of justice. It's 7 minutes till midnight on New Year's Eve, and I'm choosing to write about this while I still have a freedom that's dying. This is my New Year's resolution... fight for what's right before what's right totally disappears in an Orwellian fog created by Big Brother lovers.

We wonder why we've been in 18 years of wars on lies? Could it possibly be because WE, the people, have lost our minds in what's "Yummy" vs what actually matters?

Here's the deal... I'm really not picking on Justin Bieber as my heart does go out to the guy. We live in a society of navigated focus which, through no fault of his, constant focus is directed upon him and stars like him. This mechanism robs the music from the artist and makes the artist the focus. That could drive the best of us insane and become extremely depressing. No-one wants to live in a fish bowl... not even fish.

How does a 13-year-old boy even begin to comprehend a world driven to idolize him so much so that whatever potato chips he chose to eat was more significant to millions of people than far more newsworthy and disastrous events that we have the power to change if we would just come into our own power?

It's not Justin Bieber that's fucked-up. It's us. We are! We throw all our energy and power into what shoes, what clothes, what hairstyle, and what love does Justin Bieber (or the like) have? It's marketing on top of marketing on top of marketing, and young guys, like Bieber, who don't know any better and just want to build a life doing something they love become the tool of this system to sell the people and distract us from our power. Bieber doesn't know that. I think he's learning and growing and slowly figuring that out.

Like John Lennon, who reached the height of success as Beatle, Bieber realized it's all hollow. You got the money. You got the fame and the fans. You got the beautiful girlfriend (wife in John Lennon's case), you've done everything this system says you need to do to be successful and it says, "Success is happiness!" But ya get there, and ya realize it's superficial...it's nothing.

And then, ya think there's something wrong with you for not being happy when ya have it all. After all, you've done it! You've checked all the marks this system gives us to be successful. So something has to be wrong with you cause you're not happy when you should be.

I get that, ya know? So, I don't blame Bieber so much as I'm using him as an example of how we've all gone astray from what matters. Millions of innocent people are dying and have died in wars on lies, and the American people are supposed to be the government.

But we govern nothing for reasons of getting lost in Justin Bieber as if he's our favorite character in a movie. He's a human being with a real life just trying to figure it out. And we need to be focused on our lives and our responsibilities as the governing body of these United States.

We can't govern anything, if we don't have a free press and free speech. We can't govern what we don't even know is happening. This is what makes what's happening to Julian Assange so critical. He told us about war crimes that we were meant to hold our elected representation to account for committing in our names, with the lives of our sons and daughters, and our money.

But this system diverts our attention away from that. It makes it boring. It drowns it out and censors it, then props up flashy drama of no-drama on Instagram between Hailey Bieber and Selena Gomez. Ultimately, that shit is none of our business, and maybe that was the problem with Justin and Selena in the first place... we all knew a little too much in a "story" that wasn't ours to write in our team "Jelena" sport made of real lives.

We have to stop allowing this system to distract us from what's important. Lives are being lost. Journalism is dying in a maximum security prison while we all anxiously await some "Yummy" seasons. I'm not telling ya to tune-out Justin Bieber. I'm pleading with you to tune-in to Julian Assange and your own rights to know, lead, and govern. I'm begging you to come into your personal empowerment to affect positive change.

[taboo-truths]

Feeling Alone On Christmas?

Call it "Christmas" or "the Holidays," it is most often NOT "the most wonderful time of time of the year". Corporate marketing is especially cruel in it's branding and selling of so many dreams and ideals real life rarely measures up to as human beings are turned into an inhumane bottom line.

Many times over people need not be alone to feel alone in a room full of others, or even with a companion in a relationship on the rocks. Many parents are struggling to make ends-meet and their children will not be visited by Santa with a wishlist fulfilled in these tough times.

I'm not mentioning these realities to further depress already depressed people. I'm mentioning them to empower you with the realization that wherever you are and whatever you're doing, or not doing to achieve some ideal... you're not alone.

Very few of us live Hallmark card lives, or anything closely resembling that. Your reality is not the lie, and you are no failure for being unable to meet some marketed ideal. Magic is not so magically made of a simple change of month on the calender where the paychecks remain small, the work hours remain long, and the families exhibit all the stress of such daily grinds in how we mistreat each other be it in April, May, June, July, and/or December.

Holiday depression is often created when we compare ourselves with where we think we should be vs where we are. But it's this mythical "should be" that's the actual lie, and it's a dangerous and irresponsible lie that tells you you're abnormal for no other reason than the lies need to sell lots of shiny, red bows and glittering tinsel this holiday season.

When you free yourself of that unrealistic comparison, you realize you don't need those ideals to find your inner happy. Maybe finding your inner happy is just owning how it's perfectly okay and normal to feel sad and lonesome at a time of year where we've been taught to over-idealize family, friends, and relationships with over-the-top standards.

Ya know, it's bad enough to feel sad and lonesome. No sense in beating yourself up about it, which is exactly what corporate marketing has us do. It gives us the false standards which we compare ourselves to, feel sad for failing to meet, and then kick the shit out of ourselves for feeling sad at "the most wonderful time of the year".

Nah. Screw that. If you find your "Merry Christmas" in nothing else but self-acceptance, than you're having a pretty damn good Christmas that's better than those faking it to make it the lie that's been sold to them via some Norman Rockwell imagery or Edward Bernay's level of propaganda.

After all, when we look up close at even the most beautiful and colorful Christmas tree, it's bit of a sparkled-up tangled mess, now isn't it? Like the tree, Christmas is all about perspective, and this just a reminder of that truth.

[taboo-truths]

Outside the Herd: Livestock Are Branded, Not Me.

I have a love/hate relationship with social media of any kind. I love the creative outlet, and the unfiltered freedom to learn and explore. I hate the branding phenomenon which has turned social media into a competition where a human being's relevance is determined by their volume of followers and number of likes.

It's as if every social media account should come with a branding iron which brands it's cattle and demands a mooing herd to like, follow, retweet, and subscribe. We've changed social media from simply being a great creative outlet where we can all gain knowledge and inspiration into a market flooded with the profitable demand for numbers, bottom lines, and head counts.

And it's really hard to not caught-up and swept away with that chaotic distortion. Because I don't have a million followers, this hollow-shell of societal herd says to me and the countless others like me, "You're a nobody!" Actually, I'm not a nobody. I'm a somebody that just has no desire to shepherd a herd or make of myself a brand to brand my cattle. I don't want cattle.

Majority rules has erroneously taught us that people with the most votes and/or likes are the most qualified and most valid for reasons of mass validation when the masses have consistently validated some pretty stupid shit. I could be a really likeable person that says something really stupid, but it gets a lot of likes for no other reason than me being likeable. Now, the stupidity is reinforced in my own mind by the masses, and in the collective mind of the masses in that majority vote count of likes.

Branding has almost destroyed the art of social media. It's brought the middle school popularity contest into adulthood so much so that grown adults argue, "Why have social media if you don't care about others likes and being popular?"

I have social media, because I LIKE... as in ME LIKES...to create. Still, it's easy to forget that in a world that can't respect or acknowledge such a simple difference in perspective and treats a somebody like a sub-human nobody. Nah. I'm just on the outside doing my own thing while occassionally peeking-in at the branded herd liking, following, retweeting, and subscribing to their favored shepherds.

[taboo-truths]

He Said/She Said...

He said he loved me and that I was his world. He said I'd always be "daddy's girl". He explained to a 6-year-old the meaning of "divorce". He did so tenderly in the park with a happy meal, not trying to be coarse. He said he'd always come visit and never leave me alone. I never saw him again and it still cuts me to the bone.

He said he loved me and that I was his world. He said I'd always be his "beautiful girl". He got down on one knee and proposed to me at 18. He tenderly explained his odd need to be a US Marine. He said we'd be together forever and he'd never leave me alone. I never saw him again and it still cuts me to the bone.

He said he loved me and that I was his world. He said I'd always be his "cheeky minx" of a girl. He married me at 33, when over a cuppa and biccie... he tenderly explained his need to "visit" his "mummy". He said we'd be together forever and he'd never leave me alone. I never saw him again and it still cuts me to the bone.

She said, "I love you. You are my world!" She said, "You'll always be my one and only girl!" She's been with me all my life... a heart that beats for me and heals my insides. She tenderly explained... everyone and no-one is to blame. She said we'd be together forever and she can't ever leave me alone. She offered me the reigning seat of my own heart's throne.

[taboo-truths]

Flesh For Free Speech

If I wrote "Save Julian" on my tits maybe the much needed masses would tune-in to hear this woman.

Spread my legs and flash my crotch, so free press and free speech wouldn't be lost.

Tortured in a maximum security jail while citizen's civic duty proves such a fail. Would sex help make the sale?

I don't know. Maybe just may be! Millions tuned-in to Cyrus in diapers singing, "Fuck me!" Should I appeal to animals animalistically? No-one seems to give a shit about their own citizen sovereignty, yet millions will glory in Miley's pornography.

I guess. as a woman, my "feminist" power is still reduced to being sexy. Let me break out a fleshy teet and milk the babies. Only this momma ain't screaming, "Fuck me!"

"Save Julian" means "SAVE YOUR OWN FREE SPEECH!" I shout it while I regrettably make myself a piece of meat... an indignant billboard fighting for truth and dignity in an ever-growing tyranny.

A woman making herself an animal, because nothing's really changed at all. No-one looks me in the face, or listens to the words I say. As always all eyes still focused on my chest. So, I might as well make an intellectual plea for free speech on my breasts.

[taboo-truths]

What's it like to be Taylor Swift?

What's it like to be Taylor Swift, have millions of people listen-in and care to hear what you have to say they care so much they'll even pay!

They'll hear about a Gatsby life, so far removed from my known strife. What's it like to suffer heartache unaccompanied by a final notice running late?

Must be nice to swim in a champagne sea... I swim too when my roof leaks! And when romance fails me Ramen's the luxury my feelings eat.

I'd watch a documentary on Saint-Tropez, yet the cable was cut just yesterday. And the traffic lights don't talk to me, but there's homeless begging on street.

I guess when one lives in a golden cage with golden tattoos and a golden archer turned prey... a Tennessee Stella McCartney can fail to see Miss Americana's homeland is dying in poverty.

I'm NOT attacking Taylor Swift! I'm just one of the lovers that freely listened-in and caught myself getting swept away till I was reminded of my own heartaches. Talk about 10,000 cuts all at once... I fight to survive when I run.

I know it's not easy to live in a fishbowl. I can imagine the interest of millions grows old. Having to dot every "i" and cross every "t"... every aspect of one's life under scrutiny.

Paparazzi following you wherever you go, and having to stay home for any moment alone... I get it, ya know!

Still, I can't help but wonder what it's like to be Taylor Swift? Having anyone care enough to listen-in. To have Dear John, who left me behind see me swim... in a tub of diamonds, or in the indigo eyes of a new love golden.

What's it like to know that someday you'll be living in a big, ol' city? Have that actually come to be and make those mean to ya feel itty bitty! What's it like to be a winner that always wins fearlessly? What's it like to not be a loser like me?

I've lost love time and time again. My family ain't too fond of me, and I can't keep a friend. She knows what it's like to be a woman with an independent mind when being a strong female can be made the worst crime! Sexism definitely beat me down in my Gen-X time.

So, that's why I wonder what's it like to be Taylor Swift? Having someone...anyone care to listen in. What's it like to shine like fireworks over dark, twisted towns? I wouldn't know. My bullies glued me to the ground.

God forbid Taylor Swift ever hear this... And bring with her the millions that also listen-in Then, the world would know me and my rock bottom fall, and I'd know what it's like to be Taylor after all.

Maybe I shoulda just kept my lips zipped? Just keep-on a swimmiń in my raindrop bucket! Break-up the Ramen and stare at my blank TV screen. Go ask the homeless, "Hey! Are the traffic lights talking?" Yeah. I can feel invisible. Still who wants their worst seen?

But dammit! I've done it! The doins done...done! Taylor and I share a commonality even if only one! We both have a love for a blank page, and I am so sorry, Taylor, that I wrote your name.

I may always be on the run, but I'd sure hate to run from the millions of fandom! I'm not a firework that'll ever shine above dark, twisted towns and seek to draw the attention of everyone around.

Maybe I can be a sparkler that glitters from within? Heat-up the glue that keeps these feet from danciń! Shake-off the rage that keeps me in self-hate... Stop asking what it's like to be Taylor Swift before it's too late. Stop punishing myself for failing to live-up to insecurity's dreams, and find the confident song in my head that says, "Everything's all right with me being me!"

**********************************************

Believe it or not, I'm not a massive follower of Taylor Swift or anyone for that matter. I wrote this poem on August 30th at 2:39am, after listening to Taylor's YouTube release of "Lover".

Part of me was in mind of myself, but also in mind of people just struggling to get by in so many ways that include heartbreak compounded with the added heartache of poverty and isolation.

I haven't deliberately chosen to pick-on Taylor Swift so much as her album inspired me in the way inspiration chooses you, you don't choose it. And I do find that Taylor is inspirational for as much as I'm not a pop culture fan and far more obsessed with philosophy, theology, anthropology, politics, and foreign policy.

She is a poet that strikes at the heart of the poet in me, and of all things I find inspirational about Taylor... it's her confidence which comes through in even the most raw and vulnerable song.

[taboo-truths]

I just listened to Taylor Swift's newly released Christmas tune called Christmas Tree Farm. If I weren't such a petty, self-pitying asshole I could've merrily sang along with Swift's festively upbeat lyrics accompanied by adorable home movies. Alas, I am a self-pitying, petty asshole that once again jealously tuned-in to the pure magic of Taylor Swift when I know better.

You see, friends, that I don't yet and may never have... some light candles at Christmas and others, like me, light cigarettes in a twisted sort of death wish which in Scrooge fashion shouts, "SMOKE EM IF YA GOT EM!" I possibly learned this not-so-merry holiday habit from a mother who was far too busy drowning herself in a bottle of wine to deck the halls with boughs of holly.

My childhood Christmases were predominantly spent roughing it alone in solitary merriment. I'd lug the tree down from the attic, break out the box of decorations, check all the twinkle lights to make sure they were properly twinkling and all this while listening to my mom shout, "Dammit! Your lugging all that shit out, but ya better remember Santa ain't coming to clean up your mess!"

Oh the joys of holiday memories.

This did not change in the years later when I grew old enough to have Christmas in my own home with a beloved boyfriend. It seems I've always had to drag people kicking and screaming into sharing my "annoying" Christmas merriment. I haven't always been a Scrooge. I've instead been a Christmas elf in a family of Scrooges.

I'd put on Bing Crosby while also dreaming of a White Christmas, break out the hot cocoa and marshmallows, freshly bake some cookies, and be ready for a tree decorating party like no other, which always became like no other in that it always somehow turned into a party of one in a never-ending list of no shows.

Eventually, I convinced myself Christmas festivity, of any kind, is a glamorous Hollywood illusion. Tired of the disappointment of being treated like a Christmas Nazi for forcing any one of a number of beloved Scrooges into a "fun," holiday tradition, I eventually gave up. I became a Scrooge.

If ya can't beat em, join em... am I right?

Then, I watch Taylor Swift's already magical life be made even more magical by having grown-up on a Christmas Tree Farm complete with every unattainable expectation attained... complete with snow, sleighs, and a mother that clearly did not shout, "Dammit! Your lugging all that shit out...".

What I've only ever known to be Hollywood glamour seems to be Taylor's real life experience of Christmas. And I can't help but wonder where does one go? What does one have to do to meet festive people enchanted by the Christmas spirit? In so far as my life experience has demonstrated to me, they're as mythological as unicorns.

Co-workers, friends, lovers, and family in my life have only ever seen Christmas as a colossal pain in the ass of hyped-up corporate marketing filled with unattainable expectations and the resulting unwanted stress and responsibilities of trying to meet those expectations.

I've known people barely able to make ends-meet, working 2 and 3 jobs, who've donated plasma to provide some kind of Christmas for their kids while stressing-out for reasons of being unable to meet every checkmark on a child's list, who's excitedly expecting Santa to fulfill all their Christmas dreams but will only find disappointment beneath the tree.

To one such friend, I offered the advice of making Christmas a scavanger hunt of wrapped packages hiding candy and clues to find the one present she could afford for each of the 5 kids she was then supporting as a single mom. Fortunately, she came to me after Christmas in tears exclaiming how much fun the kids had in what would become a new Christmas tradition. None of the kids had felt they'd gone without, but had "the best holiday ever!"

In other words, Christmas is tough for many people and for many reasons. We don't all grow-up on Christmas Tree Farms complete with magical memories of holiday delights and splendor with beloved family beneath the twinkle lights. Some of us are roughing it in our own unique ways and trying to make magic of vapor and while haunted by ghostly phantoms of Christmases past.

The one gift I wanted at Christmas was love and the holiday "fun" of camaraderie in a shared Christmas spirit that didn't automatically define me as a "pain in the ass" to those I've loved. For others, the holiday struggle is that feeling of isolated loneliness and more.

But Taylor Swift also brought me a reminder of me before I became such a Scrooge. She reminded me of the long lost Christmas elf in me that once had the perspective to offer a friend in desperate need of advice a different view of Christmas presents and make a new game of Christmas morning for a family that only had each other's joy to give as a gift.

I may well be a self-pitying, petty asshole these days, but I do not begrudge Taylor Swift her charmed upbringing on a charming Christmas Tree Farm and am even grateful to her for sharing it. In doing so, she opened up that sense of family and camaraderie to all of us in need of the Christmas spirit in an odd sort of way that welcomes us all to a loving family. This petty, self-pitying asshole knows a great gift when she sees and/or hears it, and that's what Swift has given us on her cherished Christmas Tree Farm.

The lighter of candles has thus spoken to the lighter of cigarettes and dared offered this Scrooge a new perspective that says, "Merry Christmas! You are not alone. Grab the apple cider, sit by the fire, listen to the sleigh bells on the Christmas Tree Farm, and welcome to the family of Swifties!"