Is fat really the worst thing you can be?

Of all the traits in the world, is “fat” really the worst?

A girl who goes to my school posted this status on Facebook: “Worst day ever I got called fat then threatened to be kicked out of the car on the hwy then threatened to be kicked out of my house then my bf is a butt to me…yea total loving today…not”

I’m a syntax person. The most important thing in your mind comes first. Is “fat” worse than unloved? Is “fat” worse than homeless? Is “fat” worse than injured?

Of all the things you could be, is fat really the worst?

 


I have never been so disappointed in a birthplace.

Your hometown. Your birthplace. You’ve lived here all of your life.

If you’ve been living under a rock, Arkansas passed a law banning abortion-a subject everyone has an opinion on, and if they don’t, they’re satanists. Can we sit and talk about this for a moment?

Hypothetical: You get raped. You get pregnant. What do you do? Do you keep this child knowing that it was made under the worst of occasions and that it won’t have a father?

Killing a child simply because you don’t want to have it is immoral, yes, but keeping a child that was forced upon you isn’t the happiest lifestyle either.

You could say I qualify on their decision.


I am a mother.

Not a mom, guys.

Everyone knows I have this Queen Latifah character growing inside of me like a fetus at all times. I don’t really now why, but I imagine one day that I will birth this Queen Latifah character and raise it as my own.

(If you didn’t really understand that due to the disgusting-ness of it all, it’s a metaphor, as is the good majority of the rest of this post.)

The Queen Latifah character has been kicking to get out. I find myself making Z-formations when I snap my fingers and my neck rolling in such a way that I cannot control. 

 


Oh, Romeo, Romeo…

Spoiler: This is about Romeo and Juliet…but not really.

Solid chair. Uncomfortable chair. I look around. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How did you even get in here?

These thoughts cross my mind every day in AP Lang. Seriously, do they not have placement tests anymore? 

That’s not the point of this though. The point is that all the while my slender, giggly English teacher was teaching a worthy lesson, my mind kept relating everything around me to Romeo & Juliet. Why? Well, why not?

Why did Romeo and Juliet never pass notes? That’s how all the hip high school couples get started, and it seems to work for them and all the good 80’s movies. It would have been at least a million times easier to just write what they feel on pieces of paper and have them delivered. True, that would leave evidence of their love, but hand-written notes are about as romantic as it gets. 

Take some lessons, Romeo:

Pack our bags.

Pack your bags

For a night without you by my side,

Would be a hell I have no desire to see

Pack my bags

For I shall endure hell to be by thine side

Side by side, we shall be

Holding hands

Forevermore you and me.

 

 

 


Small town, Arkansas

Peek

Everyone should feel pride in their hometown. After all, this is where you learned your life lessons and grew as a person.This is where you started. This is where your mind went from mush to matter. The people you meet here may not be with you after you move, but they have made an impact on you. No matter how small, an impact is still an impact.  

Why be ashamed of such an important part of your life?

“There’s nothing to do.” My advice to you, close-minder, is to pick up a book, maybe even read it, or fall in love. 


(Mainly petty problems) of human nature

There are a few things that I don’t understand about human nature.

Here’s a prime example: My friend, let’s call her Tina for privacy purposes, and I were having a conversation about a person that I used to be very close with. Let’s call her Fey. Tina was telling me how Fey and her were on decent terms with each other, and from time to time, Tina would bring my name up in conversation with Fey. Fey would respond negatively, telling how she didn’t care for me as a person. 

Oddly enough, I already knew this. I’m unsure whether it’s the daggers she shot me in the hallway, the overall non-acknowledgement of my existence anymore, or that she would tell my friends that she didn’t like that told me that she didn’t like me. But get this: I was still upset about it. I was upset because something that I already knew and admitted to myself had been proven true.

WHY?

Why was I so upset about something that I already knew about? Was it that I wasn’t ready to accept it? No. 

It’s like this: Humans strive for acceptance.You can tell all the lies you want about how you don’t want to be liked, but they’re still lies. No one wants to be hurt. No one.

But damnit, sometimes that’s life. 

As the day went on, I realized how petty the whole matter was. Someone that used to enjoy my presence no longer does. So what? People change every day. High school is the prime time of change and development. We took separate roads in the yellow wood. 

“The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let things upset you.” 
― Stephanie PerkinsAnna and the French Kiss

I know who I am. I may change tomorrow, but I’ll know who that person is. 

 


Stories or lack thereof

No songs are going to be mentioned since that might cause some unneeded arguments.

Today’s music seems so heartless. There are some good ones here and there, but the majority of songs don’t tell a story. There is no climax. There is no rising action or reason behind even writing the song.

Music, to many people, is an escape-a paradise, if you will.

This is a short post for a reason. I want you to turn on your radio and change the stations and just listen to the difference in the messages the songs give and how they make you feel. What’s your escape? Did you find a story or purpose in the song?