Everyone Shut the Fuck Up For a Second

I hear a lot of talking.

Whether it be in the form of Facebook posts, Twittering, bar fights, or baseball caps with slogans printed on them. Everyone has a gigantic stick up their ass, a big ego, and a loud mouth, paired with an audacity to ask, “where did we go wrong?”

I’ve done my part to stay out of politics. Not because I am uneducated, uninterested, or unmotivated. But staying out, staying away from the news (despite being a Journalism major), and staying un-opinionated (on politics, not life) has given me something I feel a lot of you “LOOK AT ME, I KNOW THINGS” people seem to lack: perspective.

My mother has never been one for strong political views. My father probably was, but he dropped dead before I could hit puberty and give a shit, so I’ve grown up in what we’ll call a rather uninfluenced environment.

I’ve been born and raised in the Bay, where diversity runs rampant, but spent my “politically formative” years of college in what seems to be the rich-white person capital of the world. I talk a lot, I think a lot, but underneath all the bells & whistles of my exuberant personality…I’ve been watching. I’ve been listening.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

  1. Americans truly think social media matters. Okay, partially yes. It has become a platform for communication, education, connection, etc. Believe me, I get a nice little ego-boost when I tweet something sassy and gain publicity from it as well. But it seems like social media has become the end-all-be-all not only for politics, but for society. Like ISIS is going to see you changing your profile picture to a flag and be like, “Oh yea. That’s the one. That’s the profile picture that shows me what I did was wrong, and I will stop now.” I mean honestly, people seem to be more focused on Instagram likes and YouTube subscribers than, I dunno, maybe being half way decent? Than maybe actually getting involved? Actually donating? Actually thinking of solutions? What?Here’s a thought: maybe aim to have as many educational, well-processed thoughts as you do likes on your “finsta,” so you can add something to this society you claim to care about other than good contour and fake thigh gaps.
  2. There has become a beautification of mental illness. Yippy skippy, let’s all accept ourselves. WAHOO! It’s cool that mental illness is becoming more talked about, really. I remember being a little girl and being told I could NOT talk about my dad’s alcoholism because it was taboo. It was shameful. It was something those outside the family could never know…and that sucked. It sucked because I needed help and support and I was told not to talk about it. But I swear to fucking God, if I have to see one more BuzzFeed or Odyssey or whatever article about “10 Ways to Love Someone with Anxiety” or “5 Ways to Talk to Someone With Depression,” I am going to fucking lose it. Here’s a secret: those of us who are ACTUALLY fucked up, don’t think it’s great. In fact, we spend the entirety of our lives trying to get UN-fucked up. You’ll never see me posting “7 Ways to Be Friends With the Girl With a Dead Dad” because I don’t give a fuck. My shit is my shit. My issues are my issues. Do we need to educate people on mental illness? Yes. Is it good that it’s something being talked about? Yes. But it is NOT something you take a cute lil quiz about on Thought Catalog. It is NOT something that everyone around you should have to change their lives for YOUR comfort. YOUR shit is YOUR shit. YOU handle it. Asking everyone to baby you and say special words to make you feel safe isn’t going to help you, I promise. The best way to combat mental illness is to sack up, and keep going. The world does not stop spinning merely because you’re in pain. Tough pill, I know. Swallow it.
  3. What the fuck happened to basic manners? People. Seriously. Please and thank you. Like, if the two syllables in “thank you” are too much time for you to take out of your day, I have good news! It can be shortened to “thanks!” It’s not that hard. It just baffles me, because I’m a total asshole. Like, a full blown, no filter, very little sympathy asshole, and I still manage to find it in my cold little heart to FUCKING SAY PLEASE AND THANK YOU. And to smile at strangers. And say excuse me. And to not mean-mug every other girl I see, like god damn. All you have to do is be halfway decent to other people. HALF. NOT EVEN FULL, HALF. CIVIL. POLITE. HALF. It’s really too much energy to be (and teach your kids to be) HALFWAY DECENT?
  4. Everyone thinks they’re right, and you all sound the same amount of stupid. You. Yes, you. Sharing your conspiracy theories and “NowThis” clips on Facebook. You look just as stupid an uneducated as the side you are so vehemently against. Creating circular arguments on Facebook is never educational, only entertaining. And why? For the same reason “fail” videos, spoof cartoons, and “Impractical Jokers” are popular: people like to see other people look like idiots. So while you think you’re the next SJW with your 8 page long Facebook attack on *insert candidate or policy here,* the only attention you’re getting are those arguing against you, and those laughing at you.

The wrap-up: You probably read this thinking it would be about Trump or Hillary. Wrong. Like I said before, I don’t keep up with the nitty gritty of politics, I keep up with the nitty-gritty of people. Back to when I called you all audacious, asking “where did we go wrong?” The answer, to me at least, is plain as day. We need merely to be halfway decent to one another, create a community again, and it’s just that simple. You cannot advocate peace, and then engage in unbacked political arguments on Facebook. You cannot be against Trump’s racist policies, and then exhibit racism in your own life. Look in the damn mirror, and change YOUR life instead of expending energy yelling at everyone who disagrees with you.  We are headed for a boat load of shit. Like, shit is about to go down. And when that time comes, we are going to need decent, open-minded people way more than we will ever need Instagram models and Facebook fights. There IS an “us” and a “them,” but it is not “Hillary” and “Trump.” It is not “African Americans” and “police officers.” It is those who will fight, love, and support when the time comes, and those who are going to be part of the problem. Choose your side.

Loyalty: Worthy Of A Blowjob

My Fellow Peers,

Once again, you have pissed me the fuck off. Only this time, it’s about your relationship standards. Now, obviously this doesn’t apply to all people my age, and can even apply to some outside our generation. But my middle finger is pointed at you.


Because I just read something on Twitter that suggested a man deserves a congratulatory blowjob for being LOYAL TO HIS GIRLFRIEND.

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I’m sorry, what? You deserve a prize for literally meeting THE MINIMUM STANDARD OF A RELATIONSHIP?!

All the gifts, dates, dinner, sexual favors are extra. Sure. If your man shows up with flowers or does some other sweet extra shit, or even if you’re just feeling friendly, go for it. Give out those BJs like you’re god damn Oprah.

You can even be like, hey. I am grateful and appreciative of how well you treat me. Allow me to gift you with oral sex. Fine.


That’s the same as being like, “wow babe, you didn’t punch me in the face today! You’re such a keeper! Here’s some sex!”


(Side note: does not apply to fuckbuddy/FWB relationships. Those are lawless, open-field battle zones. Enter with caution. There are no rules.)

  2. RESPECT. Like, not calling your significant other derogatory terms in a serious way or hitting them or making them have sex with you against their will. Dating does not equate a free-for-all vagina buffet NOR does it equate some unspoken “I can say whatever I want about/to you because we’re in a relationship” clause. If you do not respect the person you are dating…just WHY?! WHY.
  3. THE BROKEN TV METAPHOR: Why do you people lead me to preach like I’m fucking 80 when I am 19. Allow me to get into character *clears throat* Baaaaack in my day, when something was broken, you fixed it. You didn’t run out an buy a new one. You worked hard, and you fixed it.

    HERE’S A PSA, KIDS: RELATIONSHIPS ARE WORK. LOYALTY IS WORK. COMMITMENT IS WORK. It’s not easy. It’s not always pretty. It’s not always the “honeymoon stage” where your partner shits rainbows and the sex is great and everything is hunky-dory. LOYALTY+RESPECT+WORK+COMMUNICATION= BASICS OF A RELATIONSHIP


Poem: To Those Who Love Us

To those who love us

To those we pushed away with our coy attitudes and snarky words when you attempted to shower us with warmth and kindness in yours

To those who spent endless nights banging on the walls we’ve built around ourselves, knuckles bloodied and hearts still hopeful, only to be met with silence

To those who sat up wondering why the loyalty, understanding, and reassurance were not enough

To those who listened to us croon about that hammers that shattered our glass hearts, and then watched us seek out, once again, sinners of the same vein

To those who looked in the mirror and wondered what was missing, what wasn’t enough

To those who have been in love with the broken, the mistrustful, the damaged, and the confused

To those who shake us daily, taping the image they have of us onto our eyes, constantly enraged and confounded as to why we can’t ourselves the way that you do

To those who think the only side of the moon that exists is the side that shines amongst the stars, and have the naiveté to believe that light shines in all of us

To those who saw the good in us when we failed to see it in ourselves, and still leave unlocked all the doors we’ve slammed in your face

It was never you, it was always us

You go unloved, but not unnoticed.

A Standardized Test Told Me I Can’t Write, So I Should Probably Strip

When coming to Cal Poly I, like all the other incoming freshmen, had to choose to my major upfront. After an emotionally scarring experience with Pre-Calculus, it had become clear to me that mathematics was not my strong suit, so Engineering and anything of that sort was out.

I loved science, but science also involved a lot of math, and I just wasn’t about that life. My next thought was psychology, but I’m hopelessly addicted to the broken already, so me in a psych major would probably lead to me in a psych ward.

So I landed on Journalism. Writing, being aggressive, asking questions; it seemed perfect. For a while, it was. I even had major success with one of my articles. It’s been translated into two languages (German, Spanish), re-published a multitude of times on various sites and in independent magazines, gotten me several job offers, and even my own meme on Reddit.

I had people telling me to keep writing, to never stop, that I had a true talent, and then…

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Self. Worth. Shattered. I didn’t fit in the box. The random people assigned to grade my hastily written, 9am word vomit on “college grading” just didn’t think I was worth much. So consider this my official resignation from writing. If a standardized test tells me I have no talent, it’s probably right.

Forget all the words of encouragement and positive reinforcement. This 2-hour test defines me more than my accomplishments ever will. Like the SAT, I am not a human being without a number attached to me. That’s actually what I wrote the essay on…probably why they didn’t like it. Why am I such a fuck-up, MY GOD?!

So for all of you who enjoyed my writing, thought I was kind of witty, and maybe even thought I had a future, I am sorry. But like always, a test has chosen my future for me, and it has chosen stripping…or maybe drugs…or maybe I can be the homeless woman who screams at the walls outside of Dickey’s.

Just remember, kids: it doesn’t matter what you’re good at if that little piece of paper tells you you’re a fuck up. And for those of you who have talents that don’t involve books and calculators? I’m talking about the musicians, artists, mechanics, and the like…there’s no test for you, so obviously you mean nothing. The world can survive without music, art, culinary skills, and someone to fix the car, you damn peasants.

Because these tests, these scantrons, and these half-assed essays you write to prove you belong at a school you already got into once…they are who you truly are. And if you can’t memorize and regurgitate information in a way the system teaching it sees fit, who are you really? What could you possibly give society? The cure for cancer? Nutella? Dope ass rap music? HA. NO ONE LIKES THAT SHIT ANYWAYS.

So thank you, Cal Poly, for confirming that my only genuine talent is being able to take tequila shots straight, no chase. You were right, I can’t write anyways.🙂

Relationships: What You Want vs. What You Deserve

You’d never guess from my constant swearing and distant attitude that I’m a hopeless romantic. But alas, it’s true. In a world of relationships defined by Woman Crush Wednesdays and #RelationshipGoals, I’m still the girl who will hand write you a love letter or make you a mixtape to let you know you’re exactly who I want.

I don’t fall often. I think I’ve been seriously in love once in my life, and almost gotten there once or twice. But I crush often. And from these brief but meaningful infatuations, I’ve not only learned some things, but I’ve witnessed some things as well.

There seems to be a painful and annoying distinction between what we seek in relationships today, and what we deserve: a never-ending fight between what we want and what we need. And it plagues me daily, especially as of late, so I’m going to write about it.


The Chase vs. Stability 

This is my greatest downfall. I am constantly infatuated with guys who do not know I exist (shout out to my gym husband who I stare at but never talk to, hey what’s your name?). Guys who throw themselves at me bore me. I love the adrenaline of a guy who could be here today gone tomorrow.

But this is a never-ending loop, especially if you get involved with someone who is exactly the same way.There’s a saying that, while true, is pretty messed up. It says, “power in a relationship lies with whomever cares less.” But I beg the question: what’s the point of a relationship if your goal will always be to care less? Make it a goal to feel safe, to feel cherished, and to feel wanted. Not to feel like a human game of Risk.

Talking Every Day vs. Meaningful Conversations

Who remembers the days of constantly-looping conversations with your crush?

“hey. who do u lyk?”

“cnt tell u lol”

“yes u can”

“ok u”

“o. I lyk u 2 lol”

Aaaand that was about it. Unless your person-in-question is Superman or something, their life isn’t going to change much between when you texted them “What are you doing?” at 3:05pm and when you text them “What are you doing?” at 3:15pm.

You don’t have to talk to someone every second of every day to let them know you care about them. This is still a hard one for me to grasp, because I’m a needy little bitch who loves attention and loves, loves, loves knowing that someone is thinking about me. But talking to someone loses value when the conversation does, and then you show up in person with nothing to say. Aim for quality over quantity.

What You Want to Hear vs. Honesty

It’s hard to hurt someone’s feelings, especially when you’re into them. But there is something to be said for someone who isn’t afraid to cuss you out every once in a while. I’m not talking about someone who criticizes your every accident or publishes your every mistake. But I’m talking about someone who isn’t afraid to tell you off or call you out when you’re really fucking up.

I’m guilty of over apologizing in a relationship until I get really, really, comfortable with the person. I’ll say sorry and take the blame just because I absolutely hate fighting and I want to get back to cuddling already. But sometimes, the person you love is going to fuck up, and they deserve to know that. Otherwise, when you leave because you’ve finally had enough of their shit, they won’t know what they did wrong in the first place. Honesty gives people a chance to fix mistakes they didn’t know they were making.

Words vs. Actions

There’s something comforting about someone saying they’ll be there for you, or love you forever, or that you’re what they want. But I’ve lived a life full of empty promises and, honestly, words don’t mean shit to me anymore.

Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but when I want somebody, I do NOT stop until I get them. Period. And that’s how it should be. I do not believe in “timing” or distance or fate or whatever. I dated a boy who lived in Miami for seven months. I chased after my high school sweetheart while he was blatantly banging someone else for about a year. When you care about someone, and/or when someone cares about you, there is nothing that should be able to stand in your way: time, distance, circumstance, whatever. If someone wants you, they will fight for you, and if they aren’t fighting for you, it’s time to let them go.

Lust vs. Love

Be careful of this one. I feel like often we are falling into relationships because of ease and comfort, or maybe just really good sex. We stick with what we know, or we choose the person who has always been there for us because we feel like we owe it to them. You do not owe anyone anything.

Choose the person you love based on who makes you feel like the best version of yourself, based on who makes you feel beautiful, and based on who you truly want to be with. Do not choose them based on what you feel you owe them, who they pretend to be, or because you worry no one else will put up with your shit.

In conclusion…

I know our generation is fifty shades of fucked up (haha) when it comes to relationships. We are scared, we’ve been hurt, and we are tentative to fight for what we deserve because we don’t believe we deserve it. But we do.

Seek a love worth fighting for, not worth settling for.



To My High School Sweetheart

So I was thinking about you today, and everything you’ve accidentally taught me about love.

I realized I really never thanked you, at least not as often as I should have.


It’s true there is a mother’s love: an innate one that never fails, is always protective, and lets you fall only to pick you up again.

There is a lover’s love: passionate and intense, thriving on chaos and flourishing in commotion; the attention means more than the feelings ever will.

There is friend love, food love, pet love, and mood love…

And then there is how you loved me.

You came into my life, and I was more than you bargained for. When you bet me I’d fall in love with you, I made a bet of my own you’d fall first. I told you how you talk was stupid, and you told me I had a lot to learn.

Over time, you noticed and memorized my oddities: how many minutes after eating before I get the hiccups, what color my lips turn when I’ve forgotten to drink water, which hours of the day I usually take my nap, and how fast my heartbeats when I think too hard.

You licked my tears off your thumb when they fell, and never once made me feel guilty or stupid for crying. You allowed the ceaseless texts as I tried to convey my thoughts and, even in our worst moments, you never left a call unanswered.

You made a million apologies you shouldn’t have had to. You never asked me to change, you always asked me to try, and you took the time to read between lines I couldn’t even untangle to understand me.

That was it.

Instead of just getting to know me, you got to understand me. Instead of just loving me, you cared for me. Instead of just keeping my company, you showed me the value of time. Embarrassing you was impossible because you embraced every single quirk, and to this day I can remember both times you ever yelled at me. Only twice. Only twice, even though God himself can’t even keep track of the amount of times I’ve gone off on you.

You were the first person who was able to drag me out of my own head and open my eyes to a world of hope that I thought I’d forgotten.

My favorite moments didn’t come from big trips, vacations, or proms. They came from crawling through windows and hiding under beds. They came from dances in parking lots and on kitchen floors. They came from Red Robin baskets and Sobe water bottles and filthy white Vans.

You showed me what it was like to be adored, to be appreciated, and to be valued. You set a standard not only for future relationships, but for how I hope to one day love myself. Because of you, never again will I settle. Because of you, never again will I question whether or not I’m desirable. Because of you, I live for the little moments.

Thank you.





This amazing boy writes for this sports website if you wanna check it out.

Random Musings, One

Have you ever held somebody, and felt like you couldn’t get close enough? Like no matter how tightly you squeezed or how deeply you buried yourself into them, it just wasn’t close enough?

Maybe you hang on every word they say. They could tell you the same stories, the same jokes, the same ideas over and over again, and even though you know the punchline every time, you don’t mind listening.

Perhaps their success means more to you than your own ever will. The good in their life doesn’t spark even the smallest amount of jealousy, because their happiness and comfort means more to you than pride ever will.

And it’s possible one look in their eyes destroys any fear you thought you ever had. Tears they caused can only be dried by them, anger they created can only be overcome by them.

Maybe their turmoil becomes yours. Every sadness and illness, every ounce of pain is felt in your core as if it were your own. You seek to fix intangible cracks, and fill invisible holes.

And you know in the deepest, most secret parts of you that if their heart were to stop beating, yours would lose its purpose as well.

We have gotten trapped into this idea that there is only one or two ways to love someone. This just can’t be true. You can adore someone with all the deepest depths of your heart, but not be able to be with them.

You can worship the ground someone walks on, and never say it out loud. It can be in the subtleties of your interactions. Asking if they’re cold, if they’re eating.

It can be behind the scenes: watching their life progress without you in it in any way you can.

You can love someone at the wrong time, stars crossing on the verge of their supernova, too volatile to interact, but still brilliant and beautiful in their destruction.

You can love someone too deeply, enabling toxic habits for the sake of the peace, and for fear of abandonment.

You can love someone too protectively, attempting to shield them from all the world’s evils, never allowing them the pain they need to grow.

You can love innocently, blind to the possibility of heartbreak and disappointment. Ignorant to flaws and mistakes made.

You can love suspiciously, questioning every compliment, every kiss, every song. You can wonder what is real, assume the worst, and live on the adrenaline of never knowing.

You can love lustfully, savoring deep kisses and deeper sighs. Reveling in moonlight, but never in daylight.

You can love in every aspect of your soul, allowing it to consume you and confirm in your heart of hearts what you know to be true.

There is not one way to love someone. There is not one way to be loved. Do not miss the rays of light that shine into your life simply because you are unsure what color they shine. Allow all aspects of love to enter your life, and allow all facets of your heart to explain them.