Your a bad influence Mr. Journal!
That compulsive blogspot, how I shake my fingers at you. You've helped me come to terms with the idea that all of those little voices inside my head, all the issues that have hit me like a stun gun, can be expressed for no one to really want to read! Its so much termoil it keeps me awake at night time! Makes my blood sugars soar! And finds a way to wedge the relationship.
No, not really. But thats what my life sounds like. If its not one problem, its another one. It takes me about five minutes to write a blog ( this is a small guesstimation -no i cant spell- ), yet for some reason, this little creative writing monster inside of me can keep me awake all night? Did it ever occur to anyone that its not the act of blogging that makes it so I can't sleep, its real life issues that are stressing me out? Like, maybe I'm trying to solve them, or figure out where I'm going, and sometimes one just needs a little shake up? No.. its Blogspot. Definately your fault.
Here's a little thing you might already know about me. I used to wear baggy jeans, color my hair the ambience of the rainbow, and have chains that weighted down the back ends of my ass and probably softened up my hip for my old age retirement. However, the image doesnt make the person who they are, the person does. I held the door for people, said please and thank you, never stole things from a store, and certainly didn't push kids down in the playground. Yet, I had that teenager pink hair style with the punk look. But my colors had nothing to do with who I am. People today are all talking about the kids in society, how after the age of 20 you can only have natural highlights, wear classy pants, and have heels on your boots. Childrens clothes are getting tighter and smaller. Here's a little piece of advice. If the parents didn't help them buy the stuff, they wouldn't be showing half their nipples off while waiting for the bus at the bus stop okay? And two, not everyone that is wearing a fashion trend, becomes that fashion trend. Now I know, that there are a few that have taken this trashy persona to a new level, throwing garbage all over the streets, cursing every five seconds,and bumming the hard working smoker their last cigarette on their way to work, but for me, I made my personality my choice, and the color of my skin, hair, eyes, clothes, or what I choose to express, doesnt mean that I have no respect in public, just means I desire a little more freedom than .... dress pants.. dress pants.. dress pants.. Not to say I dont like looking respectable, I've come to quite like the idea that people look at me as I'm a person now that I've quite simply -grown out of my youth-, but once in awihle I like to know that if I were to be playful one day and put streaks of green in my hair, my family, friends, and loved ones wouldn't turn their backs on me.
I've worked in fast food most of my life. And I hate my life, 90% of the time, yet I always manage even when I feel like getting hit by a bus, or already feel I've been hit by a bus, to go to work with a happy go lucky face, attitude, a smile, and try and make the best of what I really dont have. So yeah, I look happy working at a Tim Hortons. I'm really not.
I've had to give up a lot of privilages, and personal ambition, as well as lots of money and a good credit rating, to survive in life. I've made a lot of good and more so than not bad choices in working my way into where I want to go, and how life actually works. And I have to say, a lot of the time, it goes un noticed. Which is fine, the lack of appreciation I can handle, throwing it in my face though, is a completely different story.
If you haven't begun to realise, my issue today is stupid people with stupid assumptions.. Dont be a chump. Look past the face make up and actually breathe some life into society, before we turn it into one big plastic shopping mall.
Sincerely,
Me
Girlie Girls
Don't have microsoft word, so all my spelling and grammar magically isn't going to correct itself for this post, and I can already feel my IQ level dropping a few respectable posts, but who cares.
Isn't it great when we can rely on other gadgets and whatsits to correct things for us. Look at the magnitude of things that we can accomplish in half the time, soon we're going to be able to cram down eight hours in sleep in three, and still feel like the time has flown. That should add a few years to our wrinkles. But honestly, if you look at all the cool stuff we can do, you would think that our buildings would look ten times cooler than the Romans and that we could generally outdo the great Stone Sculptures and temples that our ancestors could build. But they relied on something we have generally forgotten, and that is manual hard labour and creativity. Years of invisioning a certain project shadowing the ground and standing taller than God himself, shapes and colors that are oh so natural and beautiful for tourists to catch some smoochies with their normal but oh so adorable loved ones. With all this technology we have just gotten mind lazy.
All the powerful inventors and creators relied on their own masterminds, carefully drawn sketches and the invigorous routines of mathematical mayhem to get them through the day. And of course dont forget that we enslaved the poor defenseless villagers to build it for us. However, the end result is still a magnitude of brillience is it not? A spectacle of something bigger than life, with older tools, less technology and less answers that were mapped out before us. So how come we dont build things like that anymore. We have gone from creating to exploring and living in the past wonders of the world instead of creating new ones for our children down the line. Chopped down our forrests, natural groves, and effortless non man made wonders for shopping malls and computers. Could we get computers to build a massive mummy tumb? Would anyone else get a kick out of seeing George W. Mummyfied in girlie wraps and left in a cold stone prison for someone someday to open up and poke around with cutting tools? Trying to discover who this man was, and how awesome he must have been to have the honour of being buried with his gold treasures. And what would he be buried with? A Timex watch maybe? Wedding ring..? His Whitehouse dog? Would they make a documentary on how they think he walked, lived, and breathed? The affect he had on the country? How powerful his iron fist was, or how blood thirsty his heart for conquest was? Would they explore the many depths of the crevaces? Send down scopes to see if there were antique vases, or maybe just the cobwebbed office chair he would snuggle his little tushy in?
I'd like to see that. I'd like to see a lot of things. Looking back when the Tango was first invented, the thriving sexy dance where the women spun around in their hot red dresses with silk and laces, and the men trotted around in their slick black shoes and their quick boots. Oh how we embraced our feminine strength in being both secretive on whats under our clothes, but hot and vibrant like the beautiful women we are. There is no mystique anymore, teenagers are walking around in belly tops and short skirts, no need for our gentlemen to fantisize what could be under those strong dancing legs, no need to work the flirtatious lines to find a soft hearted woman who could cook dinner, but still be strong enough to run the household behind the scenes of the strong shouldered protective man. Now its all shacking up, hip hop music, and nothing left unseen by the wandering eyes. Fuck you and eat shit, never hold the door for the elderly, never show your age on your face if you can help it, and you can look at my ass but you just cant touch unless you can feed me enough vodka to kill a horse. Where has all the class gone, where you could have your breath taken away at a good opera show, and then flirt with the man sitting across the table, polite to the waiter, dark handsome eyes, and an arm to escort you to your wandering carriage? Have we lost all of our genuine culture and color for a walking strip show and a cigarette? Oh the French and their wine, the Greek fine dining, the Italian families all leaning on eachother. Where almost every job we have is just another bus stop to the next location, and no one takes pride in even the little things like a perfectly polished table.
Just some things I was curious about..
Sincerely,
Kendra
Everything is better with Coke
There is life beyond McDonalds. Cleaning the cobwebs off the journal I can’t possibly loose no matter the amount of times I’ve moved. Boxes, tape, gasoline, until half my crap is scattered across Ottawa and I can’t collectively look around and be able to amount all the shit I own.
I’m not going to pretend that internet popularity is going to grow, and that anyone is actually going to read how things have been, so this is for my own personal attention and nothing more.
I’m a chronic smoker, a real maturity toker, color my world realist with a career in pouring coffee for the Caffeine deprived hard working average citizens of the City of Ottawa also working the night shift alongside me. Speeding their cars away, systems up, windows down, resting only for a coffee break before they zealot off to make that pathetic penny to supply the packaged garbage that’s slowly killing them anyways, now there is irony.
Sure we have that sense of comfort. The reasons we get up in the morning, the reasons we go to sleep, that family pet, that love of their life, that child that keeps waking people up at four in the morning cause apparently sleep is only for the sick or the old people down the block. Is it a fixation and an idea of purpose, a warm pretty security blanket we wrap ourselves in, pretending that this is going to last forever, to make the most of the little loves that we have, or is it possession? I can do this because I possess the strengths of those that we’ve come to know and potentially love. You’ll never see an animal wondering why they are fighting to survive; they just do it, alone or in a pack. Dogs feed off of pack energy, but they also motivate themselves when they are alone, they don’t need that comfort, they are survivors. But why?
I’m not a pessimist, or even a total realist. Animals have no sense of right and wrong, they don’t have feelings of hate or greed, and they don’t look the other way before biting into another food sources neck. They don’t choose to be vegetarians for sensitivity towards others in their environment, they eat, they live, they sleep at night fully aware that they’ve tasted blood and it was delicious.
So question does this then separate us from the animals we’ve apparently evolved from. Although they feel fear, anxiety, emotions that relate to their sense of wellbeing, they shake, they bark, they bite, they squeal, they even play, but no guilt, no sense of shame, so why are we so sensitive? Maybe its because animals didn’t create nukes, wars, theft, they didn’t create overpopulation that created famine and then treat it like it should be a choice to donate or not. “You should choose to feed the homeless, the AIDS stricken children, adopt them to our lifestyle of greed” it should be a damned law that we have to share our luxury; we helped make the world this way, lets share. But I got to pay my cable bill first right? No friggen responsibility. Why help other war stricken countries, not our problem, we got satellite! Please.
Here’s my rant, ONE donated non perishable food item at thanksgiving isn’t going to solve the 364 days of the year where we are having our thumbs up our asses in the club stripping the dignity we have left for women and letting our children run around and add more babies to the ever growing population of adoption agencies. Grow the hell up. Obesity is a way of the world telling us that we have too much and to give the rest of the world a damned turn.
So what is next. Already you’re thinking I’m a cold hearted insensitive person. No I don’t give half the crack addicts on the street my smokes or my change, that’s not being a hypocrite, that’s teaching people that when they are down, to get the hell up and stop whining about their shit. Mental people, mothers with children that their husbands fucked, and actual poverty stricken people, sure. But the asshole teenagers and bottle addicts can bite me. I work hard, I’m a Type 1 Diabetic, and I’ve pretty much been denied numerous possibilities for my ambitious stomach to chew on. Lost school funding AGAIN, crappy underpaid job, family that thinks I’m a big joke, and one maybe two friends who actually see me for anything I could be. And those are the people I associate with, and RARELY see. Surprising isn’t it. Oh and I love Karaoke bars.
What if there is no God? I lay awake at night praying to God that the damned Christians we all know and hate are right in some way. I mean, if there is just nothing, and the Atheists are right, and haven’t just sparked some kind of rebellious attitude because the Christians have mindfucked us, then what is the point of living wealthy, poor, making good or bad choices. Who cares if watching tv and stuffing our faces made us happy? Who cares if we’re jerks, rude, sweet, funny, or married or have a career? In the end it was all just a big tease? I lay awake at night, wondering if there is no purpose, and that we have just become conceded in our own rights that since we are so different from all other species, and science was just some coincidence, then this is the end of the road and we should just do whatever. Who cares about hair color? What status we are, we’re all ending up in the ground, do what makes you happy as long as it doesn’t hurt the people around you and enjoy it, cause life is one big tease. Sucks don’t it, that’s the negative person desperately hoping her life isn’t nothing.
Oh, did I mention there’s this guy I met that I wanna marry? Yep. Happy me!
Happy Victoria Weekend!
-“Life is like a puppy. Cute when you see it until you bring the thing home and it pisses on your good rug.” –by.. ME!
