What’s My Age Again?

9 December 1992. It was a cold day in December, flurries and snowflakes abounded and as the sun disappeared, a lunar eclipse kissed the moon. In the chill, the bitter cold of night, there was a silence. A single snowflake fell to the ground, having caught the light of the blood red moon, and the world held its breath. Seconds passed, each one bringing the moon closer to the culmination of the eclipse, the tint caressing the moon with no inclination of saying goodbye. And right as the moon shone brightest, a scream rippled through the stark white hospital. The lights were dim, the sounds of Christmas carols humming through the radio and in a flurried rush, as the snowflakes outside the window, a baby was wrapped in a blanket, the jam-like innards having been sucked from her nose, her bottom having been smacked. That child, covered in goop, being rapidly wiped off and swaddled, was me. I came home in a Mickey Mouse shirt, which my mother graciously lets me keep in my clothes drawer with my socks.
My mother was told she could never have kids. I was both a surprise and a blessing (or so my parents tell me). I’m sure they really had no idea just how many surprises were to come to them on my behalf. I’ve been through every emotion and hair color, I’ve grown fond of coffee (if you couldn’t tell), I fell in love with music. I learned to play almost a dozen instruments, I even thought about being a music major in college, even auditioned. We always put the Christmas tree up after (or on) my birthday). And now, I live with my husband and life has changed so much since my earliest memories.

Last year on my birthday, I anxiously awaited the minute I turned 22 so that I could buy the Taylor Swift song. But as I approached this birthday, I realized that finding a “23” song would be much harder. So I began my search. As the title suggests, I found Blink-182 first and then Jimmy Eats World. But that song just wasn’t enough for me. I’m sure my sister would love for me to claim the R5 song “Wishing I Was 23” but I just can’t connect to it either. Next to reach the chopping block was “23” by Shakira. I’m a huge fan of Shak, and I really thought maybe this song would be it. But I kept looking-just in case. And then I landed on “Waiting” by Jamie Campbell Bower. And I think I have my song. 

Being 23 is already pretty stressful. I have another year just gone. I spent it being sucked down by my cowardice and anxiety, I found myself changing my mind-a lot, and I picked myself up after tons of times being metaphorically beaten down. But it’s gone, for better or worse and I can’t get it back. That’s really something to think about. It’s a scary world out there and I’ve missed another year. Or am I just another year closer to the best me I may ever be?

So my goals for year 23, are personal,more so than they have ever been. I want to break my shell once and for all. I want to get out and meet people, make eye contact and not be afraid of everyone. I want to work out more. Not so I can be skinny, but so I can be healthy. I want to be able to go into the next parts of my life in the best shape I can. I want to do something-like get my book published, or sell a song to a famous person, or even just go somewhere. And more importantly, I want to succeed. Less thana year from now, I’m applying to grad schools and law schools. I want more than anything to get in. I want to smile at the acceptance letter and realize I did it. I want to not be scared to drive. I have a CRAZY story to tell you all sometime about why I have worries driving, but today I shall not get into it. And I want to enjoy life. I don’t need to have “everything”-the perfect body, makeup, hair, and material goods. I just want to spend more mornings looking at the sunrise, more evenings staring up at the heavens and maybe, just maybe, finally learn how to play guitar.

All that I need is to be true to myself. And that is my favorite reason why I’m 23.

So come close, and I’ll scream

Oh just let me be me

And I fail to see

The dark skies aren’t all that dwell inside me

-Jamie Campbell Bower, Waiting

  

The Song with The Beatles (War is Over)

I haven’t blogged in a couple days partially because this is the end of the semester and I’ve hardly had time and the other part is that I’ve been watching too much news and just feeling more emotive than responsive. But today, I have everything collected, I have coffee on its way to being perked and I have things to say. You are never required to, but my oerspective cries out to be heard.

I read an article (which is how all of my conversations seem to go these days) about the curent generation of teenagers being entitled and whiny. (https://theoxytocinchronicle.wordpress.com/2015/12/02/generation-cry-baby-why-millennials-are-a-fking-joke/) How they feel that they are special snowflakes, with no flaws and a sense of deserving things which they did nothing for. I would like to expand on this and say that there are many of the current population, regardless of age who feel that way. As someone with student loan debt, I would love if university were free, but it isn’t and therefore I have to plan for that. If it’s what you want, you’ll find a way, if not, you’ll find excuses. And so I’m dragging myself across the metaphorical coals to pay for my education because I want to help people and that’s what it costs. I’m not entitled to free college, I’m entitled to working hard. And it bothers me that there are so many people who would rather just sit back and let other people worry about the chaose they cause in their laziness than there are people who want everyone to do their share. We are all special, but that doesnt’t mean that some specials are privileged or more valuable than others. It means that our uniqueness is the key to making the world better. SO I’m vehemently against entitlement. And as I will discuss later, I am against children* having children.

If you look at the news at all, really since the big terrorist attacks in the Middle East and Europe this past month, you aren’t seeing too many happy-faith-in-humanity-restored moments. In fact, here in the states we just completed something like our 29th (or 36th-depending on which definition you use) mass shooting since January 1. (http://truthinmedia.com/fact-check-355-mass-shootings-far-2015/) People get killed because of the worst reasons, and these shootings are one of them. You know what I want to see? Someone bringing a whole truck of flowers to the graves of these people. Seriously. Hearts are broken everywhere. I’m so tired of people being able to do this and have their messed up reasons why it’s okay. Taking someone’s life isn’t okay and it should never be used to get people’s attention.

  Speaking of getting people’s attention, the news companies are not as innocent as they would like to believe. Of course we all know that there are some stations which lean heavily politically but I’m specifically talking racism here. If you look at my above definition, expertly taken from Google, there is no skin color listed. The pigment you have is not a requirement for the terror scale, ranging from disturbed to terrorist. The man who shot up the Planned Parenthood, he was a terrorist based on this definition. The news reported him as, wait for it, a “calm, but crazy”(NBC) “stand-up guy”(USA TODAY). WHAT? This man shot three people so that he could shut down the PP of his neighborhood. That, because of what I will address in one moment, is complete bullshit. The man is a domestic terrorist, treat him as such. Holy smokes!

I have two things I want to role up into one here and they’re both entwined in the same subject matter: Planned Parenthood and the Tampon Tax. I’m not sure how far (if at all) Planned Parenthood goes outside the United States, but it’s basically this huge network of women’s health and sexual health clinics offering anything from STD screenings and birth control to abortions. There are a lot of controversies as you can imagine (or have seen) over the latter. Here’s where I will bring in that little (*) from above. I do not necessarily have a problem with teenage pregnancy on the sole basis that they are teenagers. WhatI am talking about here is maturity age. If you are 45 and you still can’t pay your bills or fix yourself food and you leech off of everyone else, you are a child in this scenario. I have a BIG problem with children (maturity age) having children (age). If you are not ready, DO NOT HAVE KIDS. (That’s why I’m not having any right now. I’m not financially ready.) And the thing is, people make mistakes, but if we remove all manner of health awareness and screening clinics, we’re going to have an excessive rise in not only teen pregnancy, but pregnancies that are unwelcome, unable to be cared for or otherwise unexpected. We already have enough children without homes. We need someone to talk seriously with us about sex-and not just abstinance. We need (as a whole population) someone to explain what sex means, the value of waiting until you are ready (maturationally) and the consequences. 
But the thing is, there are people reading that who will completely blow off what I’ve said because I didn’t say “Until after you’re married”. I did that on purpose and I will leave that conversation for a different day. A small section (or maybe large) of readers may also have stopped and wondered why I didn’t mention the Tampon Tax above. The simple answer: if youlook at how big that paragraph is, we needed to move on.So what is the Tampon Tax? I want you to skip ahead for a moment and look at the picture below. If you live in the U.S. here is a picture of all the places which impose a tax on your bodily function. Which one? Your menstruation. In health, we are taught that having a period for women is a completely biological thing which prepares your body for pregnancy. It also cleans out your uterus if no such pregnancy occurs. And yet, here we are. 

 
You know why I have a problem with this? Because in the last few years, people have had no idea what they’re talking about when it comes to women’s reproductive issues. We had Todd Akins talk about “legitimate rape”, Ken Buck said rape victims had “buyer’s remorse”, and a whole slew of other politicians who felt that they could speak as medical professionals about the likelihood of pregnancy accompanying rape. Lisa Brown was banned from speaking because she said “vagina”, women’s bodies have been under regulatory proposals 468 times (mic.com). We have an ongoing issue trying to shut down the biggest provider of reproductive services because of a doctored video (meaning edited) put out on a smear campaign and women are going to suffer once again. 

In conclusion, people need to stop being bad and learn how to grow up, not kill people, leave women’s bodies as the individual decisions of the individual and respect all people-regardless ofskin color, orientation, religion or any other arbitrary categorization we want to self-impose. Holy crow. People make my heart sad.

Opinionated

When I was young, I was stubborn. My dad knew that one of the best ways to get me motivated was to make me mad. Once I moved half a ton of gravel by myself in an afternoon, because he’d made me so mad. But the thing is, I learned how to use my frustration in beneficial ways. I harness that energy into two things: proving someone wrong, and being productive. And that’s been one of life’s most valuable lessons.

You see, I don’t have everything figured out. I barely have my day-to-day figured out. But that doesn’t stop me from having opinions and ideals about it all. In fact, if anything, I have more opinions than I know what to do with. Some of them are completely harmless (like my pumpkin spice latte obsession that only lasts two months and then I think it’s ludicrous to have one) and some of them are educational (like how I think that history of religion-all religions- should be taught in public school) and some of them are down right political (like my stance on pro life-pro choice, or how I feel about vaccinations). They don’t agree with other people’s, they aren’t the exact same as everyone else’s and they don’t have precise boundaries.

And that’s okay. 

  
I haven’t got everything all figured out. I’m going to be 23 in a matter of weeks. I have a great many years before I become a crone and I know that life has quite a few more lessons for me. But what I do have is passion. And a voice. And that’s why I started this blog, to get the best out of both. 

So if what I say offends you, that’s really unfortunate. I try to be polite in all my interactions, try to be considerate in all things. If I’m genuinely being unreasonable, call me out on it. If what I say causes you to reevaluate your position in the world, I am doing my job. I don’t have to have the same opinions as you, nor the same beliefs and values and for you to demand that of me is both offensive and it shows how immature you are. I’m sure, though, we have some common ground somewhere. We cannot progress as a human collective if we have the same mindset for hundreds of years. We cannot progress if noone ever asks the hard questions and waits for actual answers.  So here’s to progress.

For the past several weeks I have been focusing on mental health. Not only has it been awareness month and prevention, but because it is a big button for me. However, I also have other buttons: feminism, poverty, religion, culture, anti-20 something behavior and beliefs and a whole host of other things. So, if you’ve grown tired of me being on my mental health soap box, I’m getting ready to unveil a new one. I just haven’t decided which one it is yet. Although, I have a feeling it will be domestic abuse for a while, as that is what my NaNoWriMo novel is about and I really need ot express some thoughts. But we shall see.

Thanks for reading!