Wake Up, Get Ready, Go

Family, fuck you, home, Journal, Personal, school, Small Things

As I write this, the harsh reality sets in that I have to wake up early and go to school tomorrow. The alarm will go off at 6:40, I’ll begrudgingly hit “off” as I hold back a moan of anger and depression. I’ll sit up, roll off the bed, and pull of the t-shirt I wore to bed. Standing for a second longer than considered normal, turn the lamp that sits on my dresser on –  I’ll stare at the clothes I set out and consider what it might be like to not go to college and graduate with a low GPA because I skipped too many classes. I put the clothes on anyway because my mom would never go for it. Glancing at my jewelry, I consider wearing some, but just grab the watch my ex boyfriend gave me. Every time I see it, it reminds me of him, but I don’t know what I’d do without it. I remind myself that I picked it out, put it on my amazon wish list, and that anyone could have known to buy it for me. But it still reminds me of him and I wish I had another, despite how much I love the way it looks.

Grabbing my backpack, I head to the upstairs bathroom to brush my teeth. The light annoys my eyes, everything is a little blurry, and no one else is up yet. I kind of want to cry, but I don’t want a red face for school and my nose is already stuffy, and it would just agitate my cough, so I decide against it. I head down the stairs and really hope I don’t slip because man that would hurt and I would definitely have a bad day after that. But it doesn’t really stop me from taking quick, loose steps. Because at this point, I could care less about whether or not I have a good day.

Sometimes I’ll head to the kitchen to grab a quick lunch, sometimes I’ll head to the downstairs bathroom to do my makeup – it just depends on how much I care about eating lunch that day.

I grab my box and bag of makeup. As I sit down, I adjust my makeup mirror and turn on the light, I look at my face for the real first time today. I’m never smiling. Why would I smile right now? I’m about to embark on a day at school, with people who I despise, and teachers who expect either too much or too little, and a series of expectations that I don’t care to fill – I’m about to see my ex boyfriend and guys who think too highly of themselves. I’m about to see librarians who are far too enthusiastic for their jobs so one assumes they’re compensating for having such a depressing job as a high school librarian. I’m about to see the girls for whom I wear makeup to intimidate, the same ones who snicker and gossip and annoy the living fuck out of me. Why would I smile when I know what my day holds? But I look in the mirror anyway, at my dead eyes, my unmade face, and I stare. I do my makeup, every stroke calibrated, every dab deliberate, and I make my face perfect so there is one less thing to say about me. One less flaw to poke at. One less hateful word said. I’ll check the time about every ten minutes, until it’s time to leave. I’ll realize at about this moment that my mom and sister are still getting ready, and I’ll be incredibly annoyed at how inconsiderate they are of when I need to be to school. But I’ll ask my mom for the keys so I can start the car, and I’ll head outside to wait for them, accepting that I might be late. But why would I even care if I was late at this point? Who fucking cares if I even show up because it’s just another day in the mandatory hell they pass as education.

They finally come out to the car, Kendra kicks and screams, complaining every second that she spends buckling into her carseat. My mom isn’t far behind her, complaining just as much about how she dreads the day ahead. I silently sit, staring dead in front of me, my eyes blind, head full of miserable thoughts. I just want to be in bed. I want to really learn. I want to live, not this dead, dull routine. This isn’t living.

Driving to school we pass the children walking to their middle school, the crossing guards, the parents dropping off their kids. We pass this man, who I presume is waiting for his ride. He always has his cloth lunch bag, and on rainy days he wears a clear slicker. He’s a short man. He isn’t smiling either, as he leans against the cinderblock wall. He’s staring dead in front of him, with what I assume are blind eyes. We come to a halt at the four way stop, school bus passing in front of us, we wait. Pulling up in front of the administration building, I get out of the car, closing the door as I say I love you to my mom. Hoisting my backpack on my shoulder, I climb the hill to my classes.. I stumble upon the first group of people I see, and I’m smiling now. Despite the fact that I feel the same way as I did when I first looked in the mirror.

What The Fuck Is Happening

Journal

This is just an easy way to say everything on my mind, so I’m doing it again. I’m scared, actually terrified, that you’re just doing what you did last time. I let myself get attached to you, have feelings for you, and just to have you tell me that you lost interest. I can’t let that happen again. God, it would be awfully easy too. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m actually the one who is hesitant. I really am not sure how to trust you, because you hurt me – however unintentional it was.

I don’t trust that your feelings are strong enough to allow myself to open up to the idea of something happening between us. You really need to communicate with me a little before I can have that sense of trust again. Like, how do I know that you’re really interested and this isn’t just your way of passing time?

It bothers me a little that you don’t message back faster, but that isn’t really an issue if you’re actually interested. I’ve just taken it as a sign that you don’t really care, and if you don’t care then I am not going to allow myself to put effort into this either.

I just want to know what this is to you – if you just messaged me out of the blue because I was an easy option (someone who was interested in you before), then count me out. I want to know that you are genuinely interested and care to make something work out here.

If you don’t have feelings for me, if you don’t get chills when you think about me, or if the idea of hanging out together for an evening talking doesn’t give you butterflies and make you ecstatic, then don’t waste my time.

This could just be a communication issue, or I could be right. So yeah, just get back to me on this.

Family Stress

Family, Future, home, Journal, Personal, Relationships, school

My mom. If I were going to describe her in a few words, I would say she was brave and independent.

I have looked up to her for a few years now, but honestly there’s a lot that my mom has never offered me.

For one, emotional support.

She has the tendency to downplay my emotions so she doesn’t have to deal with my problems. Using phrases like “mind over matter” to push her agenda that we can overcome emotions simply by making yourself feel another way. Whereas, I believe in completely feeling the way I do before moving on to another thing, I don’t want to mask my emotions or hide from them – believing that such behavior simply delays the time I could spend feeling happier.

I don’t want to just shit on my mom, because while I do believe she has been a more than sufficient provider, she lacks the loving touch, open ears, and shoulder to cry on that I have always desired in a mother.

Those are things neither of my parents have been able to provide me, and I believe this has led to my intense desire to have a partner who I can hug and be close to.

She is rough, however also loving in her own way, but her rough nature makes it incredibly difficult to show her love. The things she wants done, and the ways I show her love are two entirely different things.

She complains a lot about how hard her work is, which I can definitely see – she is the manager of two pains in the ass, and is constantly having to fix their fuck ups. She is required to stay in that boring building, not allowed to use the internet for her own personal entertainment, and they don’t even have music playing.

But.. who doesn’t have problems like those that they have to deal with? Isn’t it just part of being a functioning person to separate your work/school struggles from home life?

Her attitude about life is depressing me. Often, I find myself wondering if I will be the same way. If I will find myself sitting on stairwells at 10pm when I am 40 years old, crying about where my life is going, the decisions I have made.

It was when I started looking at my mom this way, I realized how much I didn’t want to be like her.

I still admire her for everything she has done, accomplished, overcome… but I do not want to be her.

She is exhausting, never happy or content, she doesn’t even know what can make her happy. I’ve suggested she find a new job, but she doesn’t know how to get out of sales work because she has no college degree.


When I moved to the coast, I envisioned a healthy, happy family who lived together in harmony.

Instead, I have been met with more turmoil, anger, and chaos.

Is that just life? Can people live together without fighting, arguing, or bickering? Without petty remarks?

My mom’s boyfriend is another source of stress and discomfort for me. He is always angry – once he broke a container filled with rice when everyone else was gone. He kicked my dog, Ribbon, because she barked at him. He has grabbed me by the wrists before. He likes to intimidate and yell at people..

I’ve never been sexually abused, but I am really uncomfortable around him because I feel like he might do something. The bathroom door doesn’t close all the way in the winter because it’s swollen with water, and every time I go to shower and the door isn’t completely shut, the thought is there.


My sister Riley is mostly a source or relaxation, and honestly if she ever read this, I just want her to know that I just needed to get this out – but, she will inadvertently guilt me much of the time about things like my eating habits, the way I do my make up, or how I will cheat on my math homework occasionally.

Just the other day she said something that has really affected me – that she would kill herself if I got her sick.

I have been so paranoid about making sure I don’t get her sick, and honestly I would feel so guilty if I did (she is sick right now, but she doesn’t have the same symptoms as me)

but the thought is there and so is the guilt.


Which brings me to Kendra – writing this feels unfair because she is a kid, but her influence on my life is so great. She is loud, dirty, and honestly making my life so hectic/insane.

I look forward to when she is at my dad’s every other weekend, simply for the peace and quiet, and being able to keep my room tidy for longer than 20 hours.

She’s so poorly behaved, I don’t know how she makes it through school — she screams, kicks, throws the most bizarre tantrums over things like banana’s, and there’s close to nothing that I can plausibly do about it.

She just doesn’t like me some days. She’ll blatantly say she hates me, that I’m the worst sister. It hurts, I just want to be that person in her life who she can be around without stress and anger surrounding her family.  but honestly I can’t be that person for her. I have a very poor temper myself.


God, today was rough. Besides being sick, Talon was there today – apparently he’s finally changing schools. I have mixed feelings about it..

I keep forgetting that I made out with Sam when he was here.  I also keep thinking about Cadence, in the weirdest moments. I actually asked my mom for a Hundred Grand bar — something that I had only eaten with Cadence at his house. Which is reminding me of mini M&M’s, watching Archer, and drinking homemade iced tea on rainy days.. Staying at his house late at night, driving home on foggy Lovers Lane in Visalia..

I wore a tshirt he gave me the other day – but I keep remembering that he and Abiel are dating.. It still urks me.


School sucks. My teachers suck. The system sucks. The people who go to my school suck.  Waking up early sucks. Being sick sucks. Forgetting coffee sucks.

Why is being happy, content, and calm so difficult?

A Man’s Pants

Creative Writing, Journal, Peace, Perfect, Small Things, Smiling

There’s something about a man’s pants. It’s in the way they hang, the way they tell a story – you can see what he has gone through, whether he wears khaki, faded denim, or a starched pair of Levi’s.

But this man’s pants, they told a story unlike most others. His pants came up high enough for one to see his ankles – but no more.

What is the story behind this man’s pants? What happened to him – what has he gone through? Perhaps he is unaware of this oddity about his pants. Perhaps he knows full and well, and is waiting for his next paycheck to buy a pair that fit him. But the story is there, and it’s not my story to know.

On My Mind

fuck you, no trust, Personal

Things I’m Tired of thinking about:

  1. Talon and his new girlfriend
  2. Whether or not said girlfriend is Felicia
  3. Xavier
  4. If he’s seeing the girl I saw him walking with the other day
  5. Why the fuck Brandon stopped snap chatting me out of nowhere
  6. All the guys who have ghosted me, ever
  7. Why my instagram is 20 likes shy of what it has been recently
  8. The fact that Charley went to bed and I’m lonely as fuck
  9. My nervous tick where I poke at my arms, which are currently really swollen
  10. All my damned homework that I’m ignoring
  11. Did I mention Xavier? Despite the fact that I unfollowed his profile on facebook so it wouldn’t keep posting when he liked something that’s genuinely funny and made me laugh, reminding me that I get his sense of humor — but then the crushing reminder of reality that tells me he was probably projecting his feelings for his ex onto me and that he never actually liked me and when he said he was “lucky” he meant nothing because he doesn’t like me and never did and that spark was gone for him a long time ago and he was walking by MacKayla and he doesn’t even see you half the time, and I need to get a grip because the reality of this is that you don’t matter to him.
  12. Did I mention that I don’t matter to Xavier?
  13. How guys use me until they have their fix, or until they realize they’re uninterested, but they don’t really tell me that and I have already grown attached to them.
  14. How I feel like anyone I have an attachment for will inevitably leave me
  15. That I’m scared number 14 is because of how my dad hasn’t tried staying in contact with me and that my mom is emotionally out of touch with life.
  16. Why do all of the guys who think that they’re cute end up being assholes?
  17. The fact that Charley lives so far away and that I’m low key worried I’ll fuck it up
  18. I don’t want to go to public school anymore. It makes me want to kill myself. Not even joking.
  19. I hate seeing Talon being a smug ass around campus
  20. I am annoying that I yelled at him. That I heard Felicia telling him that “it’s actually kind of funny”
  21. Remembering that Cadence said I was bigger than his taste
  22. Thinking Kavy is an annoying bitch
  23. Autumn too
  24. I just want some solitude and a weekend all alone.

The Gender Template

beautiful, bisexual, equality, feminism, fuck you, Humanist, Journal, school, science

The following is a blog post I wrote from my AP Lang class project on gender:

Gender. The word itself brings back memories of baby showers decorated in all blue, sitting through long sermons about how ladies should conduct themselves, and the rigorous dress codes ladies had to follow for recitals (damn you, toe seams).annoyed ugh eye roll eyeroll

Typically, I’m the kind who defines a concept through a logical explanation (thanks, scientific method), but gender cannot be explained biologically. (or can it..?)

Yes, yes, I know. Females have an extra chromosome, we have different hormones – there are biological differences between the sexes. But gender and sex are quite different, despite being so closely correlated.

So, what is gender if it cannot be explained through hard science?
How can we define it if there is no definitive aspects of what makes someone a guy or a girl?

I’ve come to the conclusion that we don’t have the tools necessary to understand gender – yet. As a firm believer in science, I believe that given the proper tools, the scientific method, and the right mindset, someone can make sense out of the world’s “phenomenon”.

Cue X-Files theme:

the truth is out there

But this is no X-File, gender can be X-Plained one way or another.

Gender roles are culturally instilled in humans all over the world; in the American culture men are expected to conform to the masculine stigma, which is: angry, emotionally out of touch, and intimidating.

We saw this from the gendered razor commercials, to the way John acts in The Yellow Wallpaper, by Charlotte Perkins Stetson – cold, stern, and logical.

Women on the other hand are expected to submit to a man’s anger–even if it is a complete stranger–it is assumed that every woman is emotionally in touch with herself, and that she possesses this “motherly instinct”.

But I honestly don’t. I don’t feel like I have a maternal instinct – I never have. In fact, I don’t plan on having my own children because I simply don’t want them.

We are, as women, expected to play dumb. To allow men to explain things to us that our teeny little brains just can’t comprehend. (Culturally, not specifically your uncle Eric who lives in Oklahoma – but maybe him too).

Party Over Here comedy haha hilarious nicole byer

Because women do everything for them dudes

While I can see how gender roles have shaped our society, they have created this imbalance between the relationship men and women have. Gender is just this illusion humans have used to describe anatomy – much like how women doctors were considered witches in the renaissance.

We can’t explain it, so it must be sinful, dark, and wrong.

I would like to argue that women are domestic because we are conditioned to be that way. Just as men have been conditioned to like mechanics, agriculture, and football – or whatever it is that the masculine archetype enjoys.

I mean, think about it.

Girls are handed dolls to play with at a young age, I probably got my first doll before I was two years old. Whereas, guys are given toy trucks and Legos.

The way I see it, those physical differences in our worlds between guys and girls at such a critical point in our development have to make some sort of impact.

If we give guys dolls at a young age, then they might become even more “domestic” or lean toward care giving.
If we give girls Legos at a young age, then they might become more logical. 

We are shaped into the people we become, and this is pretty evident once we find out the gender of an unborn child because we start painting their room pink or blue, we buy ribbons or blue onesies based off of a sonogram telling us that kids’ sex. Think about that for a second. We systematically pick from two different colors for our unborn children based off their suspected gender.

I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with this little cultural oddity, but.. We shouldn’t allow for it to define who we are, and if we’re gonna keep it around, maybe add a few more colors.

Though, as we saw in the TedTalk by Alice Dreger, scientists suspect that there are more than just two sexes, so wouldn’t that also mean our idea of having two genders is outdated as well? Maybe we should select a few more colors off our palette for the genders we’ve ignored?

Of course, that’s not the end of the story (when is it?).

(if you don’t think Jason Segel is cute, then we can’t be friends)

Who else has had AP Psych with Hogan? If you have, then you’ve probably heard about the John/Joan case in the 1950’s – if you haven’t here’s a link to an article on the case study. 

If you’re like me, you didn’t click the link – so I’ll expand on what it’s about. Basically, a baby boy went through a tragic accident in which he lost his genitalia, his parents decided to raise him as a girl and never tell him he was born a dude. So, they raise Bruce as Brenda and he never feels like he is in his own skin (poor guy) – and he goes through some emotional turmoil and his mom finally tells him he isn’t actually a Brenda but a Bruceplot twiiiist.

This particular story is unique because we can see what happens when someone grows up thinking they’re one gender when they are biologically another – you might be like “hey, Allysa, that’s supporting the other side and is excluding the transgender community” which is why it’s important to say that we can also see stories of transgender people who have had sex changes, and they are fully satisfied with that.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that this is more about how we perceive our biological sex. Like, you can embrace it if you desire or you can reject it and whatever you choose is cool.

Little Bruce Reimer had no idea that he was born a biological boy, but he knew that being a girl was not for him. Many trans people know their biological sex, and yet they feel like someone else entirely.

People tend to figure out who they are, whether or not they identify with their born sex as their gender. Even Alice Dreger can admit that biology plays a role in our behavior and gender,

“there might be something, on average, different about female brains from male brains that makes us more attentive to deeply complex social relationships, and more attentive to taking care of the vulnerable.”

And I can step back, look at where she is coming from, look at her evidence, and say ‘I can see how that could be the case’.

The only way that we will come to any conclusive idea on gender is if we listen to each other, see where the other side is coming from, and consider all the evidence.

Obviously, no one is the same way.

Girls can be feminine.
Guys can be feminine.
Girls can be masculine.
Guys can be masculine.

Gender is a mixture of nature and nurture, it’s conditioning and biology – why limit our answer to “it’s only this” or “it’s only that”, which not only puts a stopper on our way of thinking, but it also puts a halt on advancements in our culture.

We can have our cake and eat it too, just so long as we are respectful of each other.

So, be respectful. Don’t be rude. And like, if you have a problem with someone else’s gender, ask yourself why you care so much about something that has very little to do with you.

It’s Because

Failure, Family, Journal, Personal

I have the tendency to blame one particular issue on my unhappiness, but I realized just now that isn’t the case.

it’s the mixture of everything that makes me unhappy.

it’s the fact that I am battling with liking myself, because I’m impulsive and sexual – it’s that I am hopelessly in need of someone to love me. it’s that I care so much.
my dad was abusive.
Sam, Cadence, and Talon – and my inability to date someone who is actually good for me.
my mom is emotionally unavailable.
my friends have a million of their own issues
no one has time for each other.
I might be extraordinarily busy all the time, but the second I have nothing to do, I am confronted with a wall the size trump wants to build of depression and all my emotional issues.
I can’t find someone who I love that loves me back.
I’m stressed about money and I’m becoming an adult this year, yet I don’t have a job yet.
I obsess over guys who could care less that I existed.
I love doing things that I’m terrible at so they make me feel like a failure – especially painting and physics.
I am so open and put myself out there, and it’s worked like three out of one hundred times.
The world seems so dull and sad, like there’s no actual happiness anywhere out there because everyone fakes it so well.
I have sent him a snapchat everyday for about a month and yet he never responds – so why do I still do it?? He obviously doesn’t like me.
my father lost his job, he is dating someone, and likely moving out of state.
I have no adults in my regular life who are actively proud of me.
I just want to feel satisfied, loved, and like people care about each other.

 

Discomfort

Journal, no trust, Personal, Relationships

You led me on, told me you were interested, asked me on a date.
Now I feel awkward for having feelings for you,
Because you ignored me for a week.
Now you don’t “feel it” anymore.

What am I supposed to think? You got my hopes up.
You made me believe something was going to come out of it.
You said you were interested too.

Who could blame me for being a little upset by that?
By you.
The thing that gets me is that I was starting to really like you.

Now here I am, back where I started,
feeling like every dude who has walked the face of this planet,
Is human garbage.

Don’t pretend that you care about me in anyway,
Because you don’t.
Don’t pretend that you “understand where I’m coming from”,
Because if you did, you wouldn’t have ignored me.

I became the mistake that happened after you broke up,
Didn’t I?

God, I’m fucking mad.

Love Me

Journal, Personal, Relationships

You said you loved me.
You said that you still cared.

That was really selfish of you, ya know?
because now I have to live with the knowledge.

I have to see you and know that you still care about me,
I just want to move on with my life, Talon.

I don’t want to think about you.
Yet I dreamed about you last night.

Why have you done this to me?
Insisting on making yourself a part of my life still.

You’re hurting me.

Regrets

Journal, Memories, Personal, Poetry, school

I tell people not to regret, yet I do.

All of the fucking time, I regret everything.

I regret liking the people that I have, I regret telling people things, I regret moving to the coast, I regret leaving behind my friends.

I regret opening up about things to people who don’t deserve to hear it,
I regret not standing up for those who deserve it.
I regret oversharing.
I regret confessing my feelings to any and every person I have.
I regret leaving my dad, sometimes.
I regret cheating on my homework.
I regret calling out Kayleigh and Cadence for shit.
I regret having flings with guys who don’t matter.
I regret not loving myself more,
I regret being self-confident.
I regret bringing my sheet music up for show and tell in second grade,
I regret blaming Ciera for stealing my sea shells,
I regret being so fucking awkward.

Why can’t I just be normal? Just once.
Why can’t I fit in, just once?
I want to be loved, even just once.
I want to be cared about.
To be hugged, and feel wanted.

I don’t want to doubt.
Or second guess even once.

Is it so much to ask to be loved?

I just want to stand in the big grass field at ERCLC and watch Eric with his RC Airplane class, crashing their planes. I want to listen to the little kids make up ridiculous but genius stories. I want to see the moms who have their lives together, who buy stuff from the bakesales.

I want to organize events like I used to, be in productions with Peggy and Makena and Leslie and Fiona and even Cadence and Abiel. I miss everyone so much.

I miss being able express myself without sounding like some sort of freak – being able to wear my quirky knee-high socks and bright yellow shirts. I miss taking Archery with Eric and getting into Quarrels with Bobbi over stupid Neon Dance drama. I miss game nights, and going out that one time with the schools telescope to watch stars with the Astronomy club. I miss walking into Eric’s office and seeing a picture of me in there from Eli’s mental health photo shoot.

I miss the masquerade dance.

I miss Heather’s Journal class.

I miss despising Abiel for always bragging about her Travels.

I miss Theirry’s exuberant acting

And Katie as Mrs.Dowdle.

I miss the days when I would longingly gaze at Dustyn while he was in PE with Brian.

When I would wait until monday nights when I could go to Youth Group and see him.

I would always chew gum.

I would wear low cut shirts before I had boobs.

I miss sitting in the library with Riley and Lacey because we didn’t have a class that period, when Orion went to school with us.

Choir.

Orion’s broken perfume bottle.

Tiger. Debates in 1930’s.

Trying on dresses for the play in Peggy’s office, or Brian’s, or Eric’s, or Bobbi’s, or Yasoda’s.

I miss ERCLC. It’s my home.

I miss the bright yellow sunflowers that would bloom this time of year, and the pumpkins that would grow outside the library windows – the way Anonda would always smile at me, how I could climb the tree in front of Sage.

I miss going to Halloween parties in Three Rivers, eating Peggy’s chilli and watching the little kids sort and trade their sweets.

I miss house sitting for the Entz, how I slept in Zacks room.

I miss the valley.

I miss Elderwood.

I even miss living with Nana and Gramps.

It’s okay to regret, I guess. It’s okay to miss people, things, and the past.
I definitely do..