Lessons From Cartoon Ponies: Friendship Truly Is Magic

The phenomenon that is My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic has spread widely across the internet over the past year. 

I was introduced to it last winter, after a couple of friends insisted that it was in fact a reflection of life as well as scarily accurate about our group of friends. I didn't believe them.

And then I saw episode one. The rest is history.

So late one night last week, I was watching a couple episodes trying to feel better about a situation and look for wisdom in the cartoon. And not only did I find some......I also came up with a fantastic idea. 

Why not summarize the lessons learned in each episode and tie it in with actual real life instances where that lesson came into play? Whoo genius!

At least, that's what I thought at 2 am. 

Still.....I think it's something to try anyway. So....bear with me if you're not a brony. It'll be fun and make sense after awhile. I promise. 

And if you are already a diehard fan, AWESOME! Enjoy and I'll see you at BronyCon!

This is the first blog of many to come. I'm thinking these will be interspersed in between other entries. I might even include more than one lesson in each entry....depending on the overall length. 

So ....let's begin. 

In the opening 2 part episode of My Little Pony FIM, the unicorn Twilight Sparkle and her baby dragon Spike end up heading off to the small town of Ponyville to oversee the preperations for the Summer Sun Celebration. Twilight also has a special mission from her teacher, Princess Celestia: Make some friends! Twilight is a very booknerdy pony and has no intention of wasting her time making friends. She has all of Equestria to save if the evil pony Nightmare Moon comes back as legend says she will! 


But over the course of the episode, in order to find the Elements of Harmony that can stop Nightmare Moon's plot of eternal night in Equestria, Twilight must depend on the help of five other ponies: effervescent Pinkie Pie, girly Rarity, daredevil Rainbow Dash, timid Fluttershy, and hardworking Applejack. Together, the six ponies band together in friendship to defeat Nightmare Moon, with the elements of Harmony that they each represent. 


Applejack: Honesty
Pinkie Pie: Laughter
Rarity: Generosity
Fluttershy: Kindness
Rainbow Dash: Loyalty
Twilight Sparkle: Magic


So I was sitting here, with a remix of Giggle at the Ghosties playing in my ears, trying to figure out how to relate this all to a real life situation. 


My friends and I have certainly never banded together to stop evil. 


But then I thought more carefully about it. We had come together to do other things. Like pulling off a near impossible Haunted Walk, which literally fell apart before we sucked it up and soldiered on. And putting on a ridiculously difficult play despite little props, few club members, no available funding, barely any theater experience with the majority of the group, a shitty director and a lighting display that was expected to catch fire at any moment. And also, surviving college at large, despite academic issues and social blowups.


Really, the message of the episodes wasn't just joining to defeat evil. It was also about finding friendship in those around you....and discovering what true friendship was really about. 


And I realized that over the past few years.....I'd learned just that with the help of my friends. *cue Beatles tune*


I've had a lot of friends over the course of life. I've actually had about 10 best friends. Not including those I'm closest to now. Some of my family members like to inform me of the fact that I've never been that great at picking friends. Trusting the wrong people is apparently a major flaw in my personality. 


This has left me feeling, for most of my life, rather bad about my ability to make and keep friends.....as well as my judgement in trusting others. 


But the fact is, no matter how much crap has gone down or how many people have screwed me over or ended up being jerks ....I can't help but give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I can't help but hope that the next person might not do that...or the next.....or the next. 


Over college, I became friends with a truly amazing group of people. 


From the first, I was pulled haphazardly into this group of people who were wacky, fun and didn't really care who thought they were nerdy weirdos. Most of them were Creative Writing majors like myself and we pretty much all clicked. I was afraid to count them as friends....afraid that maybe no one would accept me as readily as my friends in high school had. 


But after a few meals and joining anime club, I realized I did have friends. And as time went by, I found even more friends who were also pulled into the group or independent of them. And what's more.....they were all good friends. Who joked around about anything and made you feel better on a bad day and helped you out with your shit. 


College is about the time when big changes start happening. You're an adult but still have a childlike mindset ....which means getting wicked excited over sidewalk chalk, new Pokemon games and charming children's cartoons. But you've gotten a taste of freedom......and of alcohol, loud parties, the walk of shame, having security check your suite for craziness, truly bad food, and lots of papers and projects in a short period of time. 


You become used to not many hours of sleep, cat naps anywhere that's mildly soft, and loads of caffeine to keep you going. Besides the changes in your hours, your friends, and possibly morals.....your mind's changing. From class, discussions, news, shows, books, everything. Maybe you fight more with your family since you went to your "crazy liberal hippie" school. Maybe you change religions or cut loose from the cloth entirely. 


You start losing things. Respect for people. Pets. Old friends. Family members. Your rose-colored glasses. Your sanity (if you even had any to begin with).


Over the course of four years (or really just like the last year or so) I lost a grandfather I regret not getting to know better, a fiancee I regret not dumping sooner, and the idea that it was okay if I was miserable as long as others were happy. 


I wanted to be happy dammit. 


And a large part of that realization came later....after making drastic changes and losing a few things. The realization that I had a group of people around who gave more than two shits about me. 

tears of joy.....who knew?

I learned that true friends are there for you, even when you're being a emo asshole. They can rag on you for months about some embarrassing incident but tactfully let something go if they know you don't want to talk about. They'll also hound you until you spill what's upsetting you. They listen. They laugh with you....and at you, but in a good way.....like when you fall down in water......or trip up stairs......or fly into doors. They give advice  and help even when it's one in the morning because you needed them and suddenly had some kind of meltdown and you're apologizing all over the place and they tell you to just stop saying "sorry." They threaten to bitch slap you if you talk down on yourself one more time. They tell you to SHUT UP when you apologize for being useless. They hug you when you cry and make you laugh when you feel like you can't laugh anymore. They support you in just about everything and have the guts to tell you when you're wrong. They tell the truth, even when it ain't pretty. They go on attack for you when you can't fight bullies. They convince you into doing the craziest but most exhilarating things ever. They make you cry tears of joy....when you'd thought you were not the kind of person who was capable of that. You know they're there for you, even if they are not always physically there. 


And I think the greatest thing I learned about true friendship is, that a true friend wants you to be the best that you can be and does not demand anything from you. All they want is your friendship. No demands, no orders, no guilt trips, no expectations. 


They just want you to be you and to be their friend too. 


My friends taught me that....all of that. What's more, they taught me to see the strength inside myself that I didn't know existed. And I truly believe that we can do anything together. 




Love you Dash, Doppelganger, Spikey, Twi, AJ, Hikaru, Honey-sempai, Carrrrrrrl, and Ging. You're all the best......more than you know. 

Friendship is a group-glomp ^_^

(pics are property of Lauren Faust and the Hub)

Girls: A Guidebook For Guys

Seriously.....I'm thinking this needs to be made. Because all I've been hearing lately is, "I don't know how to talk to girls" or "I'm not good at this [this being relationships]" or "Girls ask where all the nice guys are and then they don't want me even though I'm a nice guyyyyyy."

Seriously guys. Stop whining.

Here is your guide to girls written by a girl. Although, I carry this warning: These are just some specific things. Sometimes those of my gender confuse the hell out of me too.

Lesson One: Girls Talk

When you start sending us horrible music videos and tell us it's your favorite band ever or say reaaaaaally awkward things to us in an attempt to be flirty......chances are, we're already copy and pasting it to our best friend. Usually to ask "How the hell do I respond to this??!" but there are the occasions where "What the hell? lmao" is more common.

You can't just tell us something like that and expect us to keep it in confidence. Unless you've seriously told us something that is specified as delicate or secret, we're going to share the rest with our female friends. And maybe even close male ones.

This is just a fact. Keep it in mind.

Lesson Two: When a Girl Says No, It Means NO

This is true for everything. If we say no to a) a night watching football, b) entering a mud wrestling competition, c) letting you stick your car in our exit only, or d) going out on a date with you in the first place.......we generally mean it. No. N-O.

Seriously.

We're not being cute or playing hard to get or just taking time to think about it. If it's a no, it's a damn no. Get over it.

Third Lesson: Take the Hint


See that girl there quietly sitting at her desk or over on that bench eating her lunch? She's obviously entirely engrossed in her noodles. So why is it that you insist on coming over and yapping at her?

Do you not see her eyes glazing over at your voice or the way she is pointedly ignoring you?

This is the key moment to read her body language and excuse yourself. Not internally freak out and try to backtrack and talk even more out of nerves or avoiding awkwardness.

It was already awkward from the moment you opened your mouth. Give it up. 

Fourth Lesson: You Are Not Her Mother

Stop asking for every single detail of our day. Stop checking in every hour upon the hour. Stop asking for everything we're up to or will be up to on a daily basis. Especially if you are not romantically involved.

This is why we moved out on our own. 

Fifth Lesson: If She's Drunk and Being Friendlier With You Than Normal, This Means Nothing

She is three sheets to the wind and going down. This is not the time to start raising your mainsail, sir.

Seriously. Don't get too excited. Alcohol lowers your inhibitions and makes you act a little more .....free with your personality.

If she's being friendlier than usual, it's a 98% chance that she's being friendly with EVERYONE ELSE. 
She's hitting on all of her close friends, despite the fact she is definitely straight. 
She's flashing strangers in Spain on Chatroulette. 
She just gave her ex a lapdance.

Dude.....you're not special tonight.

Sorry to be blunt, but that's kinda how it is. Sorry to disappoint but if she's not flirting or showing that kind of body language or giving you special attention the rest of the time........she's just not that into you.

Think about this: Have you ever been friendlier than normal while under the influence? Did you ever accidentally give someone the wrong idea?

This is exactly the same thing. Guys also get friendlier than they would be on a normal basis. That's just how it goes.

That, my friend, is the wonder of tequila.

Lesson Six: Dance Dance Revulsion

There's a bunch of girls out at the night club. They're dancing around in a circle, having a lot of fun.

What exactly possesses you to stare at one girl creepily for 5 minutes and then haul her by the waist to you and grind your erection against her butt?

Really? REALLY? Was she asking you to dance with her? Was she flirting with you? Or was she just out for a night of fun with her friends and you just made yourself at home?

If she's wide-eyed and mouthing "help me!" to her friends, this is a clear indication you are not wanted. Start acting like a gentlemen and think about her, instead of how much you want to get laid tonight.

And also, see above: No means no.

Stay classy, guys.

 property of Lauren Faust ^_^ (I just love Spike's  many faces)

Contrary to Popular Belief, This Former Tomboy Did Not Become A "Gender Confused" Adult

I think a large part of having a blog involves reading lots and lots of other blogs. Two of my favorites are The Bloggess and Hyperbole and a Half. But I'm usually stumbling across new ones all the time.

Recently, I came across a blog entitled Raising My Rainbow, in which the mother of two young sons writes about raising her effeminate, gender creative 5 year old. It's a thought-provoking, funny and, at times, heart-wrenching blog.

The author has mentioned often the stereotypical roles that have been placed on children by society from the very beginning. Mainly, in the area of dress and toys.

Since I've been doing some reflecting on my childhood lately, I began to think back to what I and my classmates preferred to do on and off the playgrounds. And upon this reflection, I came to a revelation. That yes.....society has been trying to conform children for years to identify with the gender roles of their physical sex.

I know......this is the moment where someone needs to shout "DUH!" in my general direction. But keep in mind......I've grown up as a sheltered, small-town girl with a super conservative family. I didn't even know anything about gender studies until going to college.

I guess I never really thought about this until recently, after I've been dubbed as a Rebel Without A Cause by relatives. Which I find ridiculous. I'm actually a Rebel With So Many Causes She Isn't Sure Which to Tackle First.

This week, it's gender stereotyping.

In religious ed, I was friends with a boy ("Jake") who absolutely loved his American Girl doll and insisted on bringing her to church. At the time, I remember hearing snarky comments by old women about this. Obviously, something was wrong with this kid. The word "fruit" was tossed around quite frequently. Which confused my young sensibilities because he certainly didn't look like a kiwi or an orange. Plus, I thought it was okay to play however you wanted to. Jake and I had most definitely enjoyed an afternoon playing Wedding Day, with the union between his Furby and my Fern Gully Crysta being proudly officiated by my red Power Ranger in vestments of tissue and scotch tape.

I also played with a younger kid ("Anakin") who absolutely loved the Jewel Princess book series. I don't remember even blinking when he asked me to play princesses with him after helping him read his favorite book. Hell, why not? The books were cool and Anakin was a fun kid. But I remember the sad and embarrassed look on that little guy's face when some boys my age began picking on him about his choice of reading and games. I destroyed them with all the anger my limited cussing vocabulary allowed at the time. But nothing took away that look in Anakin's eyes.

Remembering the boys I played with growing up and hearing the stories of other children now, I see that I had it pretty easy. There's the argument that girls tend to have it easier than boys with the issues of nonconforming toys. I suppose this must be true. My parents certainly never argued with me about my choices in toys. When my favorite aunt spoiled me at the toy store, she never blinked twice when I insisted on the pack of Hot Wheels or the western cap pistols complete with holsters. I don't remember being steered towards the Barbies or puking/peeing/crying baby dolls.

But I do remember one of my cousins being concerned over the fact his young son was playing with my old baby carriage on one visit.

I do remember the public outrage over a male purple Teletubby who carried a purse.

I do remember being extremely upset at the age of 7 because I was mistaken for a boy when I dressed up as a ninja for Halloween (this was before I discovered that pirates were by far more awesome).

I remember being upset a couple years later when I was again mistaken for a boy on Halloween because I was dressed as an extraterrestrial ambassador as opposed to my best friend who had chosen to be a belly dancer. (btw, it sleeted that All Hallow's Eve. Guess who had the slightly smarter and warmer costume?)

I was even more upset at the age of 12, the last time I went Trick or Treating in my neighborhood, when some older teenagers made comments and laughed about whether I was a boy or a girl. I was Harry Potter that year. Because Harry (besides Dumbledore and Hagrid) was my favorite. Not Hermione (I thought she was an annoying know-it-all at the time), not McGonagall (I was a little intimidated by her originally) but Harry freaking Potter. I remember returning home shortly after that, entirely upset about what had been my favorite costume ever.

Even though I ventured out to demand candy in other towns with high school friends and later dressed up for the hell of it in college, that was the last year I dressed in anything but a specifically female costume.

And I find that rather sad. How many other kids have possibly done that?

I grew up as a tomboy. I much preferred running around in the woods, pretending to fight invisible evil doers to playing tea time. I loved playing kickball or Legos with the younger kids in the after school program, instead of making jewelry or gossiping with the girls my age. When my younger cousin (hereafter called Lando) was old enough to play with, he was like a godsend in a playmate. He had tons of plastic swords he used to carefully store in between the couch cushions in the den. Our visits often broke out in epic lightsaber battles. Lando and I dreamed of having a fort to hide out in.

I was a grass-stained lanky kid with a backwards cap and a growing hatred for the color pink. My mother frequently told me that I should act more ladylike in public. Which basically meant, not muddying the dress I'd been forced into, not burping loudly and then laughing, not crossing my legs ankle to knee (I used to copy my dad like crazy), not spitting watermelon seeds all over the place, etc.

I replied that I did not want to be ladylike because "Ladies don't have any fun!" Hell, any classic character from Eliza Doolittle to Mulan could tell you that.

This is not to say I never did anything girly. I often played with Barbies and horses....although that playtime wasn't restricted to tea parties and household tasks. What usually happened were story lines to rival that of any common plot on All My Children or Days of Our Lives. I loved my dollhouse but that too resembled epic plots. More often than not a great disaster occurred that the family had to overcome or a simple vacation became a modern take on Swiss Family Robinson (I went through a period in which I was obsessed with shipwrecked stories).

My poor, ever-suffering toys and their daily emotional upheaval.

Starwars actions figures also often became a part of the larger stories. Obiwan became the rebellious teenage son who liked to ride motorcycles. Padme was a tomboy who particularly detested her mother's insistence on wearing "nicer clothes".

My cars were either specifically cars that I zoomed around (with or without accompanying sound effects) or skateboards for action figures/dollhouse dolls.

My favorites movies were The Little Mermaid and the Back to the Future Trilogy.

So I don't know if you could say I played like a girl or I played like a boy. I like to think that I played like a very creative child. From an early age, I think what playtime most indicated about me was that I was going to be a writer.

Today:

--One of my favorite movies is still Back to the Future.

--I still have a soft spot for Ariel but Belle, Mulan and Rapunzel have been more of who I've identified with over the past few years.

--I still think cowboys are more fun to be than cowgirls. Mainly because of my dislike of tassels.

--I still wear hats on backwards, on occasion.

--If you gave me a choice between a blue item and a pink one, I'll always head straight for the blue. But I'm accepting a little bit of pink in my life here and there. (I think the only reason I hated the color to begin with was because I was supposed to like it.)

--I like being girly now if the mood strikes.....I just think it's a waste of time and effort on a daily basis.

--I'd still rather play lightsaber fight or pirates than princesses with my younger cousins. However, tiaras? Totally awesome.

--I think I can rock a fedora better than my best guy friend can. Not that I'd admit it to him :-P

--I'm more obsessed with My Little Pony at 23 than I was at the age of 8. This is largely in part to the amazingness that is Lauren Faust.

See? I played with "boy toys", wore "boy sneakers", and sometimes even pretended to be a boy superhero and am I irreversibly screwed up? Am I gender confused? No. No, I'm not. And neither are the kids I grew up with. There's no confusion or so called "identity crisis". They know who they are and what they are about, whether they're gay, straight, bi or transgender, just like I know who I am and what I'm about.

I'm about equality and peace and love. I'm about shaking things up when change needs to happen and smoothing things over when calm is needed. I hate conforming to society. I'm comfortable enough in my own sexuality to call another girl attractive. I'm admittedly a hot mess but its actually due to societal and familial expectations and demands, not what I happened to be into at the age of 5.

And when I have kids someday , I will not only allow but encourage them to play or dress however they want. Because really, who cares? It's what makes them happy and I plan on raising happy, accepting and amazing little human beings.

And why do 6 year old boys with American Girl dolls or who dress in tutus and girls who love Superman or who wear "boy clothes" make society so damn nervous anyway? Who are they hurting exactly?

No one.

They're just breaking the walls society has boxed you in with for years. Let them crack, let them fall. When the dust clears, you'll see life for what it is: Something that's meant to be enjoyed by all.

So, join the revolution! Barbies and cowboy hats for all! WHOOHOO!

If you want to have your mind blown with the hypocrisy of Dr. Phil or just lose even more respect for him, go here: http://www.drphil.com/articles/article/258

Also, seriously, check out any of the blogs I mentioned. They are awesome and well-written by some truly amazing women ^_^

Adventures In the Nude or Things You Never Questioned Until Breaking Up

They say that love is blind and I'm starting to think that this statement is true. Of all the ridiculous sayings about love that have been made famous:

--Love means never having to say your sorry (Yeah, okay, if you WANT to break up)

--All's fair in love and war (So what? Both suck? Is that what you're trying to get at here? Yeah, ok, Jordin Sparks, "love is a battlefield" and so on)

--You only hurt the one you love (Isn't that the other way around? You only really hurt the one who loves you?)

--She's my kinda rain/like love in a drunken sky (What are you on, Tim McGraw? Seriously? Can I have some of it? Maybe then I'd understand what you're talking about.)

Out of all of them, "Love is blind" is the one that is probably most true. At least, in relationships. Until you know better. Or at least grow a little as an individual.

I've technically had four boyfriends, but today I'm going to be talking about boy number three because that was the longest relationship, as well as the one where all of these weird things occurred.

We were together for four years. And lemme tell you.......that was about three and a half years of the most blinded love you could ever dream of.

I know, I know. After a break-up, those involved are always pointing fingers and exaggerating things and making the other person sound like a total asshole. So here's a little disclaimer:

--Yes sometimes I exaggerate for comedic effect. However, this time, I am not. Every single thing I am about to tell you is true. It happened or was said. And I'm not saying he (let's call him "Thor") was a monster. I'm just saying that things were not okay with us and there was some weird stuff I put up with for whatever reason at the time. Call it unsure of how to act in a relationship. Call it submissive personality. Call it love-blind.

And any of you who've been in a long-term relationship has no doubt put up with weird or aggravating things from time to time. So, let's begin:

1) The Nekkid Rules

First off, once a relationship progresses into the sexual phase, things are never really the same. Sometimes better, sometimes not. No matter what, your relationship evolves in some way. Especially in the bedroom. My first and clearest memory of the weird things occurring then would involve what I called The Nekkid Rule.

It happened one afternoon. I'd ended up over at Thor's house. His room was in the finished off basement and we naturally spent quite a bit of time down there. On this particular occasion we were about to settle in for movie watching and I started to sit down on his bed. Only to be held off by one hand.

"Whaaaat?" I asked, laughing and confused.

"Take your clothes off."

"Uh....I thought we were actually going to watch a movie this time."

"We are." Thor grinned up at me. "But you have to be naked."

"Uh....what?" and I tried to sit down again. But that wasn't going to happen.

"No. You're only allowed to be here if you're naked." He smiled cheekily up at me and tried to pull my top off. "That's the rule."

Now, the girl then and the one now are two very different people. As odd as that sounds. If I was told that now, I would say, "Fine" and turn around and leave. However, the girl I was then thought this behavior was adorable and endearing. And obeyed.

And therefore, never really got to see large sections of the damn movies. Seriously. I finally just watched Shooter tonight. That is so violent but a really good movie. I can't believe I missed Marky Mark flexing his muscles and being a badass sniper for some horizontal cha-cha.

2) Food and Drink: Open Game

Thor used to make me feel like Dora the Explorer in a never ending episode, yelling "Swiper, no swiping!!!!"

I mean, we had meal times worked out into a kind of nice little diplomatic arrangement. I hated onions and peppers in my salad, so he got them. He abhorred olives to an amazing degree, so I got them. But then he would break our treaties and invade my plate to seize my food. That I was actually eating.

Seriously, I know I'm a skinny chick so you obviously believe I don't eat that much. I know I can be a picky eater sometimes. But when I'm actually eating something, you do not need to reach onto my plate and take something off of it. You could always ....I dunno....ask.

Plus, I have a thing about sharing food directly. Candy bars or sandwiches.....maybe I can handle it. Lollipops, chewing gum and ice cream however makes me physically ill. And it didn't really matter if Thor and I were regularly swapping saliva. Something about him stealing a mouthful of my ice cream cone would have me relinquishing it immediately. I never said why though. I just said "Oh I'm full." Or "Wow....now I'm really cold. You can have the rest."

I was all about sparing him my little eccentricities since his mother was extremely OCD and irked him constantly with everything she was particular about. My little annoyances about food? Not that big a deal, I told myself.

However, I did get to the point of snarling like a rabid dog when Thor would steal my drinks.

I am not kidding about the snarling either. He looked taken aback for a couple seconds, blinked a lot and then started laughing and telling me I was adorable and DRANK THE REST OF MY DAMN DEW. You don't touch a woman's Dew. You just don't.

Thor also was fond of taking the alcohol I was nursing and chugging it down. What was that? Were we in some kind of drinking competition that I was unaware of?

What it most likely was about was the fact that he didn't want me drinking around other people. If we were alone, it was okay. If we were hanging out with my friends, nope. Don't let her get too drunk. She overshares, leans on people, and occasionally flashes her bra. Which again, I took to be sweet on some level. Protective.

But at the same time, I was beginning to get pissed. That was something I actually talked with him about. Asking him to not steal anything I was drinking because it was mine and I would get thirsty and then have nothing. Because Thor didn't just take a sip or two. No, he chugged. And he kept chugging, apparently thinking my request was something else that was adorable about me and not to be taken seriously.

Maybe I should have snarled more maliciously?

3) What's Yours Is Mine and What's Mine Is Also Mine

This kind of goes along with the above section. Thor had this tendency to make himself at home. With everything.

What I mean is that when he was over at my house, sometimes he would just disappear and I would go looking for him and find him for some reason in my bed. And again with the stealing of food and drink.

Now, I'm all for sharing. However, when I was at his house, he didn't always share everything. When Thor felt like playing video games, he didn't share the controller. Even when there was the option of two person games, he wanted to play and expected me to sit and watch. For like two hours.

And again, the drinking thing. Stealing my alcohol but not letting me have his. Not that I really wanted it most of the time. He drank peppermint schnapps which I'm convinced is the foulest drink on the planet. Might as well just swig mouthwash.

4) The Desperate Nights. And Days. And Mornings, Afternoons, Random Minutes, Showers, Road Trips, and etc.

Any of the above times were an opportunity to screw.

I know....that urge to do it almost constantly in random places is a part of a developing relationship. You just look at each other in a certain way and then the next thing you know the two of you are doing it in your dorm bathroom. Or at the drive in. Or a rest area. Virtually anywhere. It's like you've lost your mind and all common sense and thoughts of decency. All that matters is having your hands alllllll over each other. RIGHT NOW.

It takes two to tango obviously. And at the time I thought this was exciting and amazing and I felt so free and rebellious. Even now, I might share something like this in a joking manner. Because on the one hand, it's hilarious and risque. On the other hand, it's very embarrassing. And I took a long time to wake up and think wow.....you know....I'm not really into this. It was crazy and fun but this whole exhibitionist thing ain't me. At least, not a sober me.

And I'd try to discourage the random sex in random places. It didn't always work......which brings me to the next thing.

5) No Actually Doesn't Mean No

Apparently.

When things began happening and I wasn't feeling it, I would say "no" or "Not now" or "I'm not in the mood tonight." I'd gently push Thor away or step back. But he wouldn't always listen.

He would pull me back or continue, laughing a little and trying to be sweet. He thought I was kidding. Even when he would stop, he'd go "Aw reaaaaaaaally?" in this dejected voice. And then he'd try pushing my buttons a few minutes later. Always checking to see if I'd changed my mind.

Eventually I would give up and give in. And there were even a couple occasions where I was incapacitated and "no" was completely ignored.

At the time.....I don't know what I was thinking. Happiness that I was so obviously wanted. That I was so obviously needed. And the feeling that, why should you deny an expression of love when you're in a relationship? Isn't that mean? Isn't that ridiculous?

I had some twisted kind of idea of how love is supposed to be expressed.

6) I Want to Take Care of You and other lies

I'm not saying this is always a lie. I'm just saying there is a fine line between someone genuinely wanting to take care of you and someone ruling your life.

Walking between the rainy road and you so you don't get splashed is nice.

Hanging all over you when you stop to talk to a guy friend is not.

Sending you messages on Facebook is cute.

Freaking out because you left your computer open and your friends posted statuses on your profile as a prank is not.

Bringing you blankets and cuddling with you when you're sick is sweet.

Cuddling to convince you to have sex later while you are sick is not.

Know the difference.

7) PDA: When Your Life Becomes Reality TV

I know for a fact that none of my friends wanted to see Thor and I sucking face like vacuum cleaners. I'm sure the people in Wal-Mart didn't either.

8) You Dyed Your Hair?: When your Body is No Longer Your Own

When you reach a certain age, you feel like you do not need to ask permission for anything anymore. Like, getting your ears pierced, getting a tattoo, dying your hair......

I died my hair fuschia at the age of 18 because I wanted to and because I figured.....hell, I'm a legal adult. I just graduated from high school. Who really gives a shit anymore?

My parents just gaped at me for a few moments and then started laughing. And then made sure it would wash out in a couple months.

Thor was not impressed. At all.

He lifted up strands of my brightly colored hair and went in this dejected voice, "You dyed your hair?"

Um. Duh.

But I was very anxious about his reaction at the time. "What....you don't like it?"

Thor eyed it with this pained look on his face. "Well....I just liked your hair the way it was. I think it's pretty the way it is." Translation: I hate what you did with your hair.

I was kind of crushed. "I just wanted to do something different with it......"

A month later he had his hair cut extremely short and asked what I thought. I shot the same words back at him. And he said "Well you never asked me about your hair before you dyed it."

We were at an impasse.

When I wanted to pierce my ears the following year, Thor wasn't so sure about it. So I didn't. Until this summer.

He liked my hair really long so when I eventually got it cut shorter, it was a necessity. It got caught in everything and was really annoying to wash, brush and took forever to dry. Thor wasn't sure what to think about it but I said it had been annoying. Plus, I donated it. How could he argue with that?

The point is, I felt like I had to ask permission to change things about myself. When all I really need to do was ask myself.

Maybe what blinds you is the thought that this person, this one person, is so wonderful, such a beautiful soul.....that you can't help but see only the good in them. And that results in placing them on this high up pedestal.

And that's nice and all.....but it's not the truth. It's not real.

What's real is seeing that person, seeing all of that beautiful person (the good, the bad, and the ugly, the flaws, the imperfections, the things that drive you absolutely bonkers that they do or say), seeing all of those things and not erasing them or excusing them away.....but loving them anyway. Loving them despite all of it and for all of it.

And if there is something you truly cannot live with or some way they are mistreating you, then you need to see it, truly see it, acknoweldge it, and let them go. Love is a wonderful thing, a beautiful thing, but don't let it blind you to the truth about people. Never let it keep you in the dark about serious issues.

"I love you and because I love you, I would rather have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies." --Pietro Ariteno

That's real love.

Why Boys Why?

This blog entry is entitled Why Boys Why? because frankly, WHY BOYS.....WHY?

Seriously.

Why, boys, why do you do and say the things that you do and say?

Why boys why do you say confusing things about your thoughts and girls and shit ans then be all cute and mysterious with your smiley faces? REally? Cause then you leave us girlds here going......damn is he for real or is he just being a complete TOOL? To me. Again. Fuccck.

Why boys why do you flirt and hit on us....if you're not even remotely interested? What the fuck?!

Why boys why do you feel the need to give us advice al lthe damn time? Do I wear my problems with a question mark on my forehead like a fucking walkting talking Yahoo Answers bubble? No no I do not. I am a girl. Sometiems I want to rant. soemtimes i want to complain. sometiems I jut want to bitch for 20 minutes and have someone to just listen to all of it. If I want your advice BELIEVE ME I will totally ask for it. Unless I totally don't trust your judgement. And if tha'ts the case, then I'm probably not ranting at you at all. I probably just answered some question or said something in passing about my day and you're tryingto be mr. fix it. FOR NO REASON. Thanksd for being nice and all but SHIT. If I want advice I'll go to my BFF's for it.

Why boys why do you continue asking whehter or not we like you "like that" when we've already told you flat out NO? Seriously? Do you like bieng rejeceted becuase I certainly don't like rejecting you all the time. No....it makes me feel like crap beuase your'e a decent gjuy. I just don't get any fluttery feelings in my stocmahc when we're talking......no heart racing when you text.......no hot and cold at the same time when we're together.......no dreaming of kisses no sex fantasies and no thoguths of what ifs.....in fact no real thoughts dwelling on you outside of the time we're talking .....ok? I am not romantically inclined towards you. I'm sorry. That's just how it is. I gogt my own shit dealing with unreqited love on the other end ok? I dont' need you all up in my business about picking some song that describes how I feel about you. I'll tell you what your song is: Creep by Radiohead. Cause youre fucking creeping me out.

And finally why boys why,.....are you so damn confusing? Yall say you're simple.....but we both know thart's complete bullshit. If you were truly simple, why would it take a damn psychoogly textbook and months and months of talking with you and facebook stalking you to UNDERSTAND YOUR BRAIN? And even then.....you still do unpredictable shit. Really? REALLY? Stop lying boys and face the facts: you're as fucking complicatfed and messed up as girls. Deal with it.

I am still drunk....wtf?

When You Really Know

Rings are symbols. Their circular shape carries a lot of meaning, symbolizing a bond and the love that goes on and on with no end.

Engagement rings are the same, complete with a promise for the future; a foreshadowing of what is to become. Normally this is a very good thing. It's a very happy time.

But not always.

Some say that everything rests in the actual proposal. Some say what really matters is the ring itself.

Personally, I think what truly matters is your relationship. The rest of it is, as they say, window-dressing. Then, an engagement is a happy time or...a mistake. Quite possibly, the first sign of true trouble you'd been trying to ignore.

When I was proposed to, I had actually been asleep. Or half asleep. I was woken by a cool ring being slipped onto my finger. Note: I was asleep, we were in a car driving back to my college after a break, and the ring was placed on my finger before I ever said yes. Before I had even been properly asked.

He was really assuming a hell of a lot.

Then again, some of that had been my fault. We'd talked about getting married for a long time. We'd been together for about four years. I suppose it was assumed.

I had also assumed.....

Until the moment I opened my eyes to this diamond on my hand.

I hid my head in his arm as he asked, "Hey.....will you marry me?"

I hid because the ring and the question did not make me excited. I didn't immediately scream YES! and then throw my arms around him. I didn't cry tears of joy (at that point, I hadn't even experienced those yet.) I didn't even look up at him and grin.

Instead, I found myself staring down at this gorgeous, sparkly ring....only filled with apprehension. A shaky sense that something was not quite right.

And that feeling terrified me.

Why didn't I shout yes right away? Why was I thinking only crap and what is everyone going to say about this now? But he was expecting an answer. I had to give one, the right one. But what was the right answer?

Well, I was trapped in a car which was currently speeding down the road for another hour and a half and there was apparently only one answer anticipated. So, I did what was expected of me. I choked out "yes" and tried to ignore the feelings of discontent lodged in my stomach. I pushed them away, trying to convince myself that they were just nerves and nothing more and then set about telling everyone we knew.

The ring never really fit.

That should have been a clear sign, an omen of sorts. But I was prone to sweeping bothersome issues under the metaphorical rug.

So I didn't really pay attention to those little telling signs around me. Like, that the ring kept falling off, being two sizes too large. Or that there never seemed to be time to get it re-sized. Or that the ring itself didn't even feel right.

It was not just the fact that I had to either wear it on a chain around my neck or hold it on my finger with a cheap plastic ring. It also managed to get caught or snagged on damn near everything. Or I'd almost scratch myself when resting my cheek on a fist. And, it just did not feel like....me.

It was sparkly, with gold bands and tiny diamonds on both sides leading up to a diamond in the middle, which was a bit bigger. It was beautiful, that much was true. But I felt like a fraud wearing it. Like a child playing dress up with Mommy's jewelry. It didn't belong with me, to me. It wasn't right.

And maybe, that was the clearest indication that something was not right with the relationship. A sign trying to show me what I already had secretly known and felt. I had known, about a month before, when one event shattered the pedestal I had placed him on. But I went on, sweeping it all into some dark corner of my heart and mind. Not something to think on.

And then, as if sensing my inner turmoil after the smoke cleared, the boy had produced a shiny ring. Which I accepted because I didn't feel as if I could do anything else. I didn't think that I really had a choice.

But the thing about life is....you always have choices. Every. Single. Day.

So time went by and I kept trying to ignore what was so obviously right in front of me all along. It took a sudden attraction for someone else for me to really see that yes.....something was obviously not right here. If it was okay, then why had I emotionally moved on without even noticing?

Still, I thought then that the something wrong was deep within me. That I was entirely to blame, that I was a horrible person. That I was a total flake, a stupid squiggle trying to fit into a square world and entirely incapable of having a long-term relationship.

I battled deep guilt. But all the while, the sense that this boy was most definitely not The One only grew as my feelings for another boy also grew. And the ring became a cumbersome weight around my neck.

My hair, somehow, became caught around the stone.

The metal hit my chest as I ran, reminding me with every step of its continued presence. That I hadn't escaped.

It smacked me in the face while I was bent over, drying my hair. A constant reminder.

The plastic ring I sometimes used to hold it on my finger suddenly snapped cleanly in half. My stomach dropped at blatant symbolism but I stubbornly tried to shrug it off as coincidence.

Then at last, another ring I had previously been given which I also tried to use to hold the diamond on with....suddenly vanished for a few days.

I finally stopped wearing it entirely. Because I knew. I knew deep in my heart, with every bit of me, that this was not right.

And I'd always truly known this. It had just taken awhile to see it for myself.

The final clue came in the form of a sweet old lady I'd met and talked to by chance at a dinner final for one of my classes.

We had been talking about life and she mentioned moving back to her hometown after her husband had passed away. She said she knew that was where she belonged and she'd known because something had felt off staying where they had built a life together. And she looked at me very seriously and said, "Because you always know, don't you, when something isn't right. You know when something just doesn't fit in your life and you need to change it.

Suddenly, I knew exactly what she meant. You always do know.

So I made a vow to myself....that the next time someone asks me to marry them (God willing that happens), I want to feel something. And not fear, nerves, apprehension, or dread. Nothing negative.

I want to feel so much joy it comes spilling out of my eyes as tears.

I want to throw my arms around the boy because I need to touch him.

I want to shout YES! even before he is finished asking, because I can't hold in that affirmation.

I want to know, deep in my heart and with every bit of me, that this is right. That he is The One.

And I want to say yes, not because there can't be any other answer, but because any other answer never even occurred to me.

And I'll only ever say yes if I truly know.

How A Single Girl Celebrates Valentine's Day

Wake up in the morning.....totally not feeling like P Diddy.

Shut off the sounds of Avril screaming about having a bad reputation on your phone.

Blink a few times. Let your eyes focus on the date and time on the screen.

Curse and grumble to yourself.

Check Facebook. Scroll through the newsfeed. Torture yourself by checking your friend's profile and his newly confirmed relationship status.

Grumble some more.

Check your notifications. Laugh at messages from your best friends. Smile at a valentine you were tagged in by a friend. Comment. Like. Check your messages. Message back and forth with a friend. Check newsfeed again. Ditto notifications.

Remind yourself to not ruin other people's day with your own discontent. Its just another day, after all.

Sigh. Hide under covers.

Lean over to flick lava lamp off. Sit up and get out of bed. Talk to yourself, words that are half reprimanding and half pep talk. "Well, that's quite enough time spent feeling sorry for myself."

Grab clothes, some of your favorites that you set out specifically for today. Go to the bathroom. Take a long, hot, shower. Debate singing. Decide you don't much feel like it. Talk to yourself instead.

Dry your hair and wonder whether you should be concerned about the amount of talking you've been doing to yourself today.

Put hair up. Put jewelry on. Wonder why you're even bothering.

Check the To Do list you made for yourself. Make a face.

Pet your sleeping cat on the way to the kitchen. Grab laptop and turn it on. Torture yourself further on Facebook. Tear up. Shake your head, suck it up and open Youtube. Listen to def jam poetry as you make brunch.

Open fridge. Open cabinets. Stare at stove. Make another face. Debate how early in the day it is socially acceptable to start drinking.

Make really sweet tea instead. Make oatmeal. Load it with maple syrup and brown sugar. Throw in some raisins, so it at least resembles a healthy breakfast choice again.

Eat while watching more poetry. Nearly spray oatmeal everywhere while laughing at one performance. Wonder if that's a contributing factor as to why you are single. Shake it off. Decide to use that in a possible future poem.

Go into bathroom to practice your own performance poem that you finally memorized. Check your body language. Adjust it. Check your volume. Decide the acoustics are not the best in there. Continue anyway. Get all the way through the poem. Do a truly embarrassing victory dance.

Glance at reflection in bathroom mirror. Blink. Realize you look pretty damn hot. Decide any man's a moron who does not want to be with your sweet ass. Walk tall out of the bathroom.

Answer texts. Find valentine and chocolate from parents. Read card. Smile. Talk to a friend about many things, good and bad. Talk about plans. Actually feel excited about something. Laugh a hell of a lot.

Think about driving. Look at clock. Debate. Throw envelopes and deposit slip into bag. Debate again. Glare at To Do list. Move today's errands to the Wednesday section. Smile smugly at To Do list.

Begin making list of things to pack for Bonaroo. Begin making list of ways to make money for Bonaroo. Debate over old schoolbooks you no longer want. Start an ebay account to sell books. Look into selling them.

Get distracted by Twitter. Tweet something. Get distracted by all of the tweets from The Bloggess. Search for people on Twitter. Think about how creeped out celebrities might feel being followed by random fans. Wonder if you'll keep your Twitter when you're a famous author.

Get distracted by Ellen Degeneres tweets. Get distracted by Sophia Grace and Rosie videos on Youtube. Go back to Inforoo and your packing list. Get introduced to Flogging Molly. Squeal like a little girl. Debate whether you like them better than Dropkick. Decide that that's impossible to decide as they're both amazing.

Go back to ebay. Go through inventory of things to sell. Calculate bank account in head. Check job updates. Try to avoid looking at Facebook. Start eating chocolate.

Have an extremely awkward conversation with a guy in a call center who really wants to help you further your education. Try to explain you've already furthered your education. Have that be ignored. Listen. Finally hang up before collapsing into random hysterical laughter.

Tell friend about crazy call. Look at clock. Realize you have 2 minutes till the time you were supposed to pick up your mother at work. Swear. Run around, throwing dirty dishes into sink, grabbing mail and sorting it, getting bag, pulling jacket out of closet.

Tell friend you've gotta go. Run around some more, looking for hat and gloves. Find gloves. Decide that regular hat isn't going to cut it. Dump extra scarf and hat on sleeping cat. Get glared at by cat before he goes back to sleep.

Put on frog hat because it's nearly impossible to be sad while wearing it. Look for keys. Find keys. Almost lose gloves. Find them again.

Run outside. Get in car. Start it. Almost panic about backing out of driveway. Kick self mentally for being idiotic. Remember which way to turn the wheel to go in reverse. Successfully drive through town.

Give weird looks to the people passing by who are giving you weird looks. Realize it's probably because of your fabulous frog hat. Decide again that you really need to get the hell out of this town. Smile energetically and wide eyed at everyone passing by. Hope you made them uncomfortable. Wonder if that's immature. Decide you don't really give a damn. Laugh to yourself.

Remember your music when you're almost there. Sing along to Hands Clean. Pick up Mumsy. Answer call from Daddio (while parked, no worries!)

Drive back while chatting with mother. Get stuck in traffic. Get excited about being stuck in traffic for the first time. Get honked at. Make unsavory insinuations about the honker's parentage and intelligence. Finally arrive home.

Remind your mother that you promised to make dinner tonight. Decide what to make for dinner. Empty dishwasher. Begin to fill it again. Gather ingredients. Check clock. Set table. Check clock again. Start dinner.

Wash dishes. Suddenly find yourself singing. Realize you've just sang Killing Me Softly, You Were Meant For Me and Hands one after another. Decide to stop singing so as to not make your mother worry.

Work on dinner. Find yourself humming A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes. Feel instantly better.

Check Facebook. Find yourself on Yahoo Answers. See that no one answered your question. Click over to other people's questions. Scroll through. Find a sad sounding question in the adolescent section. Read it. Get reminded of your own love life in high school. Feel sorry for the kid. Decide to help her. Answer to the best of your ability.

Remember the dinner that you now hear boiling away. Race back to turn temperature down. Check clock. Begin talking to yourself again about everything you have to do. Hear Daddio arrive home. Race around finishing dinner.

Sit down. Get praised over everything that was made. Feel extremely pleased with self. After dinner, show parents the adorable video Google did. Share a funny slam love poem with them. Eat quite possibly the best chocolate cheesecake ever, by Mumsy.

Check email. See that the girl whose question you answered has thanked you and said yours was the most helpful of the answers she received. Feel really happy about helping someone.

Decide the best way to celebrate today is by spreading love via the internet. Go back to Yahoo Answers. Scroll through questions. Answer some more questions on relationships, psychology, books, and anime.

Gossip with a friend. Watch Stargate with Mumsy. Drool over Dr. Daniel Jackson. Realize the similarity to Milo Thatch from Atlantis. Laugh hysterically.

Decide to write a blog about today. Debate over what to say.....and then decide to write a really insanely long blog recounting the entire day. Start typing. Turn on Pandora. See that Yanni comes up. Try to remember when the hell you added Yanni radio. Notice an add for Love Stinks radio.

Turn that on. Find yourself listening to an insane collection of oldies, with some Ting Tings and Maroon 5 thrown in. Continue writing blog. Pause to play air guitar to You Give Love a Bad Name. Realize you haven't ingested anything alcoholic all day and that there are only two empty spaces in your chocolate box.

Blink a few times. Feel a little pleased. See.....it was just another day. And it wasn't even that bad of a day. Rock out to The Supremes and The Clash.

Finish blog, knowing that tomorrow is another day. And it's going to be fabulous.

And maybe, just maybe, I will wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy.