A Rambling.

I am 22. I attend a University in an accelerated course for my Bachelor’s Degree. I watch Pretty Little Liars, listen to mainstream Top 40 radio, and my favorite book is Catcher in the Rye. I’m sure by now a total of three out of the five people (if that) who read this have already clicked the ‘X’ button on their screen to get my filth off of their precious MacBooks. Yes, I also own a MacBook.
Being age 22 means that I am constantly going through the odd feelings of being better than everybody but at the same time being irrelvant and unimportant compared to everybody else out there. It’s only logical to compare my life to Michael Jackson’s legacy, right?
Everybody has me figured out by now. College student, feminist, activist, etc. I guess I could claim all those titles, but for a title don’t you have to actually do something? Sharing an article I found interesting on Facebook doesn’t necessarily make me brilliant. I can also assure everybody that I have not done any research on the topic aside from said article.

This is what is going on today. But, instead of actually doing something about it, I’ll just write a blog post. I wouldn’t want to cause too much attention to myself (or would I?)

Sometimes at night I sit and think- ‘Have I really changed that much since high school?’ Granted, it’s only been five years, but a lot can happen in that timespan. Hell, a lot can happen in five minutes.
Let’s list the changes:

1. Moved out.
2. Went natural.
3. Got a full time job.

That’s about it. I’ve picked up some different hobbies and retreated back to ones that I’ve dropped off. I’ve binge-watched Orange is the New Black with the best of them, along with Californication. On occasion I’ll get drunk alone in my apartment and smoke marijuana. (I’ll never buy my own pot though, because I don’t do drugs. Isn’t that the thought process?) All the while, I’ll bitch about how much I “hate” people and how “life sucks” yet I want to “help” people with my degree. Pick a side, will ya?!

Listen- I love going to school and what I’m learning, but I’ll tell you what I really want (and what I believe most people want) We want to be remembered. We want to be famous! For what? It doesn’t matter. From Nelson Mandela to Britney Spears, everybody has left a legacy. Some have left a legacy so large that it seems that nobody can fill those shoes. Those shoes shouldn’t have to be filled!

The world is a big place- I mean, it’s really fucking big. Why should everybody be saying “This person is going to be the next Michael Jackson” or “This person is going to be the next Maya Angelou”? Michael Jackson and Maya Angelou did their duties. They have already graced the world and they have already left.

Stop trying to compare yourself to those who have already made their mark. Stop following in the footsteps left by them. There is a lot of fucking land and ocean to be discovered. Leave your mark someplace else.

Fuck.

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She sits in an old wicker chair from her grandmother. It looks centuries old, as if it was hand carved out of bark from the old peach tree she grew up hearing stories about. The back right leg is centimeters shorter than the other three, and when the chair rocks there is a small creaking sound. It doesn’t disturb her though. In fact, she treats it as company. The sound reminds her of old conversations she used to have, listening to everybody’s problems. She had a knack for that. Listening. Not many people know how to really listen without judgement nowadays. Staring out the window, she could see the kids playing. They would ride around on their scooters, checking their mobile phones, crammed with applications for every social networking site available every five to ten minutes. These children couldn’t have been older than ten. The woman continues to gaze out the window, past the tears in the screen and the smudges on the glass. Lifting up her coffee cup, she takes a sip. It’s empty. It’s always empty. It is chipping at the edges and stained. There is yelling from the children, laughter emerges. Her expression remains blank. 

Hot Rich White Girls Need To Stop Posting Motivational Quotes

Thought Catalog

To my younger sister,

I love when you and other young models post inspirational quotes on Instagram.

“Remember to breathe.”

“Embrace your dreams.”

Etc.

I can only imagine you sharing that wisdom with a starving child in Uganda: “Aw. Why are those flies on your eyes? Why is your entire family dying of Typhoid Fever? Why aren’t you embracing your dreams? We are all #blessed! You need to discover your passions and travel more!”

I blame our parents for not imparting you with even the slightest amount of perspective. Just face the fact that, by the sheerest chance, we’ve won a genetic and geographic Super Lottery in every sense of the word:

We weren’t born into the terrors of Siberia in WW1, or into disease-annihilated India in the 1700’s. We were born in the 1990’s, to stroll comfortably through the coolest, most advanced, First-World metropolis on the planet.

You’re 18…

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Good things come to those who wait: Why you shouldn’t settle in your 20’s.

Unwritten

As we get into our early to mid-twenties, ew gag me…I swear I was just sixteen yesterday, love becomes a more popular topic of conversation every day. It seems like I can’t go anywhere, family parties, work, the grocery store, hell I can’t even go to the bathroom in a public place without running into someone who is bound to ask that dreaded question, “so are you dating anyone.” My answer is always the same, “no, why would you date one person, when you could be dating five.” Then comes the awkward chuckle followed by the look, you know the look,  usually accompanied by the aw honey, you’ll find someone. Well…thank you? I know I’ll find someone, well duh, I’m fucking awesome. It’s not a matter of finding someone it’s a matter of finding the one.

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“Disney lied, there is no such thing as fairy tale love.” Well call me crazy, but…

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Writing Is A Weird Thing

Thought Catalog

I write to understand as much as to be understood. – Elie Wiesel
I just write what I wanted to write. I write what amuses me. It’s totally for myself. – J.K. Rowling
I write for myself things that I’ve gone through. – Dolly Parton
People want to know why I do this, why I write such gross stuff. I like to tell them I have the heart of a small boy… and I keep it in a jar on my desk. – Stephen King

Writing is a weird thing.

Think about it. Thoughts are in your head and then words come out of your fingertips, are pecked relentlessly onto a keyboard, attached to a computer and then sent out for other people to read with their eyes. So many body parts working together create a result. Such an impact on the world.

Writing isn’t talking.

I don’t even have…

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The 8 Worst Pieces Of Advice You’ll Ever Receive

Thought Catalog

A lot of people mean well when giving you advice, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a bunch of cliché garbage. As much as I appreciate someone telling me to keep my chin up when going through a hard time, I’m fairly certain I’d rather them let me punch dance out my rage in their backyard. Here are eight most generic, useless pieces of advice you’ll ever receive.

1. Don’t worry about failing.

Maybe you shouldn’t worry about it, but you should definitely be concerned about failing. If no one worried about failing, then everyone would invest all of their money in high risk stocks, then when the stocks plummeted and you lost your home and can’t afford to eat, maybe then you’d give a little thought to failing. It’s not a bad thing to plan ahead. Having a backup plan doesn’t mean you believe you’re going to fail. It…

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