Bear With Me

I read that writing a journal every day might help with being down in the dumps or being in a funk.
So I’m going to try it.

So today it rained in the afternoon which was really nice, I love how the desert smells after rain thanks to the creosote and it’s nice to get my car’s tires rolling on wet roads.

I tried to figure out why I’m so bitter about the world lately. My mom said it started when I was with my first boyfriend. At the time, I was upset because I was rejected from my dream school, Texas A&M. I was  heartbroken that I wasn’t smart enough to get in, and it meant that I couldn’t leave El Paso like I wanted to so badly. My boyfriend at the time was also getting comfortable in the relationship, and he acted more like my child than my boyfriend. I think I was hurt and frustrated because I felt that the man should be the strong one and take care of his woman. Maybe the reason I don’t like kids is because they get taken care of by default, and I wanted a bond like that with someone romantically, and I never got it.

Maybe the reason why I’ve been so down is because I’m finally realizing that that dream is dead, and long dead at that. How do you mourn a dream?

That’s where I am this evening.  Any assistance would be greatly appreciated.

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Day 29 of the CreativeWritingChallenge #1

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Day 29: Story about space.

    She didn’t know where she had gone wrong in her life that made her so melancholy. True, there were a few choices she had made in the past that she knew she probably shouldn’t have made, but that alone shouldn’t have put her in this low state. There used to be many instances that made her smile, and she consciously tried to find new things to smile about, such as the smell of a breeze after the rain or how sweetly a butterfly floats on the air as it goes from flower to flower.

    Work was finally over and she went home to an empty house. Well, home, actually. It really was her home, and it had been since she had been adopted at fifteen. Still, she wished she could get away.

    She parked her car in its space in the garage, next to her mother’s car that was much more worthy of a garage space. The driveway was cool beneath her butt, and the wall of the house was rough on her back. There was a slight breeze, but this time it didn’t smell of coming rain, nor did it smell of just-passed rain. It just smelled like home.

    The sun would set in about twenty minutes, and she wanted to see it fall below those oh-so-familiar mountains and watch the stars slowly appear, as if they had been in hiding from the star that so outshined them.

    Would she see a falling star tonight? Would the clouds pass in wispy strands over the moon, creating a dreamscape? Would the sky be utterly black, as if she were no longer at home but falling through a bottomless pit that reflected the space in her soul that needed to be filled?

    Her mind wandered as the sun fell, jumping from work to people she loved to things she wanted in her life. And then something above her caught her eye.

    The moon seemed to dance in its place in the sky, shimmering and turning and twisting itself. It was bright enough to throw shadows, and the shadows danced around the things that surrounded her, seeming to let her know that the moon’s dancing was, in fact, real.

    She looked directly at the moon, and when her gaze met it, it was perfectly still like it always should be. Her gaze fell to the driveway as her eyes narrowed, her brain going through all the reasons why the moon should dance while in her peripheral vision, but be stationary in her direct sight. The moon danced again, perhaps mocking her confusion. She looked at it again and it stood still once more.

    Suddenly, the stars came out from hiding and became ever brighter and bigger, surrounding the moon just as ants swarm a fallen breadcrumb. She felt as if she was getting sunburned, but by those stars that continually grew in her sight. She looked at them and finally saw the moon dancing as the stars surrounded it closer and closer.

    Checking her Facebook account to see if any of her friends were seeing this phenomenon and seeing nothing, she decided that perhaps she was going crazy and needed to go to bed. Bed and lots of sleep might help reset her brain. Maybe someone slipped something into her drink at lunch and she was just now feeling the drug’s effect. Maybe her brain had eaten itself in its effort to make the days go by faster. She got up from her seat on the driveway, shaking her head to try to clear it and studiously fixed her eyes on the driveway in front of her and then at the cars so she wouldn’t see the celestial freak-out any longer.

    When she turned the doorknob to open the garage door and enter the house, the first step she took was suddenly the first foot out of the door of her car in the garage. She checked the time on her phone, exactly the time it had been when she had first arrived home from work. The date was the same. She rushed outside to look at the sky. The sun was once more just beginning its descent from the sky.

    She really needed to get away from here. Her melancholy mood must be rewiring neurons in her brain.

Image Rant

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So today’s society is really screwing up everyone’s body image. I’m a huge victim to that and I know I’m not even close to being alone in that regard. Women are “supposed” to be 36″-24″36″, as in, HUGE boobs, TINY waist, and HUGE hips. And we all know that tiny waist means tiny everything else except boobs and hips/butt. Now, my butt is actually pretty nice if I do say so myself… I was blessed in that regard. But big boobs and tiny waist, I have not. but the thing that pisses me off is, men really don’t have that much pressure. I think women are more lenient when it comes to how men are. Yes, true, we do love to see those big biceps and whatnot, but you know what, that’s not super hard to get at the gym. If we want bigger boobs in order to please the… shall we say… average man, we have to have surgical procedures to get it. We can’t go to the gym and make our boobs bigger. We can work on the tiny waist, for sure, but it’s a physical fact that it’s harder for women to lose body fat than it is for men. It just is. And all over television and especially VIDEO GAMES (that we all know men are addicted to… or should I say “boys” because real men don’t sit on their asses for hours on end when their girlfriend/wife/significant other is asking to spend time with them) are FULL of women with boobs as big as basketballs in proportion to waists that probably have a few less ribs and a few less organs to accomodate that tiny figure… Honestly, it’s despicable. It really is. Shows like Game Of Thrones and Spartacus (which, by the way, I love, so don’t bash me for judging those shows to the point of not watching them) feature lots of beautiful women who have exceptionally beautiful bodies and perfect assets throughout the shows. It’s like we’re all being brainwashed into thinking that if we’re not a perfect hourglass or have perfectly perky breasts and cute, tiny nipples, we’re not attractive.

 
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You know what? I KNOW I’m attractive. I don’t have the biggest breasts ever (but thanks to media influence, I’ve actually considered getting a procedure done to address the “problem”) and I do have a few extra inches around the middle, but I’m beautiful, dammit. And the other girls like me out there who aren’t like GoT women or Spartacus women are beautiful as well. In fact, we’re more beautiful than they are. Because we’re REAL women. And to you guys reading this: recognize this, and tell your friends, as well. Stop being pigs. We could easily say that we’re not happy unless you have bigger sex organs, too, but you know what? We don’t do that, do we? You never hear about a guy wanting a penis implant because his woman wanted it bigger. Going to the gym is a request sometimes, but it’s not nearly as often requested or mentioned as men mentioning how excited they are when they see a woman who is well-endowed.

 

We’re not sex objects. We have more use than just turning you on. Actually, we do most of the things you need, for the most part, like things around the house. Yes, society is changing so men are doing more of the chores around the house, but the ratio is still grossly out of proportion. So guys, go tell your woman (or partner, whichever is your preference) that they are attractive without being that almighty hourglass figure or else work on yourself to become the gladiator figure of Spartacus. Don’t be a hypocrite. Ladies, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. Embrace yourself, and screw those girls who are missing out on the food we enjoy. Screw the hourglass, it’s only good for filtering sand and passing time idly.

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