tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5225223588907965332024-03-13T08:42:59.357-07:00Stephinitely.White Allies Of Black Lives Matterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697790192507463109noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522522358890796533.post-60899852541970199872011-04-01T06:57:00.000-07:002011-04-01T06:57:10.233-07:00Moved =]I've moved to a new blogger account. If you are interested in reading, send an email to monkstephanie.2010@gmail.com with your email address so I can add you to the reader's list.White Allies Of Black Lives Matterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697790192507463109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522522358890796533.post-31006465409828302572010-12-25T16:04:00.001-08:002010-12-25T16:07:47.846-08:00One<link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CLeaderrr%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CLeaderrr%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CLeaderrr%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif";">I sit and try to organize my thoughts but then it’s starting to dawn on me that thoughts need no organization. They are meant to be exactly as they are. Much like humans. Sometimes I wonder why people don’t take things in stride, and I wonder the rush behind things. I hate when people rush to get things done… It seems to me that people should take their time. If you take your time, things get done more efficiently and in general are a lot more fun. Now, this is coming from someone who stalls paying bills. Like a mother fucker, I stall paying bills. I have no job right now. I am distraught about this, yes. But I am also pleased. I am content that I have no job. I do not want a job. I do not want to sacrifice my time with my kids and my energy on doing something I hate just to get money that is going to get cycled back around to the greedy bastards that decide my fate. No matter what I spend that money on. Even if it was spent on drugs, that money is going into the hands of a dealer, who in turn is going to spend it on bills, or highly commercialized products that are unnecessary and completely distracting. I have no internet. And I like that. I hate that. I like it because I don’t feel tied to anyone or anything. I hate it because I am really fucking bored all the time-because I don’t feel tied to anyone or anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif";">I’m currently reading a book, called “When the Music’s Over”. It’s about a man named Ross who was a paranoid schizophrenic from Australia. He was a drug addict and spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals and jail. I was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia when I was fifteen. I’ve never steadily taken medication for it. I feel like I keep track of it pretty well. It is interesting to read the work of a man who suffered a severe… case. He believed he was God and the Devil simultaneously. Some of the things he said makes sense. Other stuff doesn’t. I enjoy reading it because it’s about the universe, karma. It’s about life and drugs and doing the things others are afraid to do. He was free. He was life. He was intelligent and crazy because of it. Read it sometime. It might change your life. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif";">That’s my whole philosophy, though. Read, write, talk, see, and do. It might change your life. Every decision you make changes your life, so put yourself into new situations and new experiences because new experiences can open windows and you can be thrust into a new life full of happiness. Sure, it could be bad, a terrible experience. Then you’d curse my name the rest of your life. Don’t curse me; I didn’t make the decision for you. I just said you should make more decisions. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif";">As for getting a job, I know I need to, because of what society has become. I don’t want to. I feel I shouldn’t fucking have to get a job. Nobody should. I don’t NEED all these McDonald’s to be open twenty four hours. I don’t need banks; I don’t need 90% of the companies out there. Part of me wants to work, so I can live a “normal” life, but the other part doesn’t, because I shouldn’t fucking have to. We’re raised up to believe there is nothing out there other than working and/or going to school. Bull hockey, I say. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif";">On my quest, thus far, I have learned more than any school could teach. Real life has held more answers to my questions. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif";">I’ve been left quiet and unrefined. Undefined. I have two needs. I need to know time frames (I need you to stick to them). Second: I need to know where I fall into your life. Am I making the impact, big or small, that I want to make? Tell me-I need to know. These are the same two needs I’ve had my whole life. I know myself, I know me. I know my needs. I’m aware. I know what I need to do. I know what I’m supposed to do. I know more than I need to. And that’s where the problem lies… I can’t stand knowing what I know and being expected to do what I’m supposed to do-knowing there are better solutions.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I’ve recently considered moving the kids and myself off to a hippie commune in the mountains of North Carolina to live naturally and freely and be able to spend time with my kids and teach them about nature and life and love… At the same time, I want them to grow up in a city and get street sense. So I remain in the Creeks of South Carolina and continue to struggle and find a middle ground. That’s all I want. I want a middle ground. If I can get a job doing something I enjoy (not likely) and that pays well enough, I’d be fine. Well enough being 8 dollars plus an hour. I’ve also considered going back to waiting tables. The only problem there is the addiction to being there, the rush, the calm, the money, the organization. It’s one of the best highs I can experience. I would end up overworking, like I did last time.</span>White Allies Of Black Lives Matterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697790192507463109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522522358890796533.post-25347271287697735602010-09-28T14:36:00.000-07:002010-09-28T14:36:04.800-07:00Oh, Bother<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Oh, boys. I love you.</span></span>White Allies Of Black Lives Matterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697790192507463109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522522358890796533.post-2197699599178121862010-08-02T20:12:00.000-07:002010-08-03T05:52:10.779-07:00Well.<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Fuck relationships. What's the point? All you do is get dependent on someone else for happiness, direction, and the occasional boost of self-confidence. And then one day they get tired of the dependency. And they leave. And you just cry and cry and break yer little heart and get down on yourself because they left. Well get over it, already. If you can't deal with yourself, don't deal with someone else and force them to deal with you. Get a grip, girl, you're losing it. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> But then being single doesn't mean you should just sleep with anybody who comes along. Or get attached to the first guy to give you goo-goo eyes or slap you on the ass. And if you do sleep with someone, for fuck's sake, don't get attached. That's just asking for trouble. When it comes down to it, nobody wants to get close to anybody. Everyone would rather remain in their separate worlds, alone. That's why people break up, or get divorced, or start secretive journals. They don't want anyone-not even their so called significant other-to know any of their true thoughts and feelings. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> ...Why not? Fear of being judged? Is it really that terrible to be judged? If you know yourself, and you are comfortable with yourself, then it shouldn't matter what other people think or say. You know who you are, where you've been, what you feel, what happens-only you can possibly know the REAL you-so if you're comfortable enough with someone to show them a little bit of yourself, might as well show them the real you. And if they can't handle it, they aren't for you. The point of this is.. be honest. I don't mean don't lie-I mean be honest. I mean be real about who you are. Figure it out on your own. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> And for crying out loud, do not-DO NOT-get into a relationship because you both have the same interests in music and/or movies. That doesn't matter when you get into a serious relationship and you have to actually make conversation. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">People come to me for relationship advice and I never know quite what to say, because honestly if it's bothering you to the point where you're talking to everyone about it, you should leave that person. Why stay with someone who changes who you are or gets you so down on yourself that you start questioning who you are? Be who you are. Learn from others, take nothing for granted. Life can be stolen from you in a matter of seconds. Live. Do what you want to do, make the best of the worst situations. Be close to those who love you for who you are. Life is more than settling down or getting fucked up. It's about being a good person, contributing what you can to the world, and living a good life. A good life meaning you are happy. You make good decisions and you appreciate what you have. Have a full and open heart for those you meet. They can change your life in an instant. Everyone you meet can teach you something in life. Everything happens for a reason. When the bad happens, you need to learn from that. Learn your lesson and move forward. Don't keep thinking about what you did. You know what you did to mess up, so figure out how to stop doing that, and stop. It's not that hard. Life is more than all of the superficial things you see people dealing with. Life is meant to be lived, so live. And damn anyone who judges you. You know who you are. You know what you're about. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> A young man said to me last night, "I'm always the nerdy, uncool kid in the room...". I stared at him, and finally asked him why he would say such a thing. He replied, "Well... it's true. I'm not very cool, and I'm very nerdy." </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> What makes someone cool? Obviously you must like something. You must like some bands, video games, movies, foods, sights, something... you thing something you like is "cool", right? Then you must be "cool". If you like things you think are "cool", that makes you a "cool" person, right? "Cool" to someone, anyways. Someone else likes those things. If he only knew who he was. If he only knew how "cool" he really is. If he had taken the time to get to know who he was, instead of being heartbroken after years of being told that what he likes is not "cool" by someone else's standards... he would be a lot more stable.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Someone else said to me that I was pretty. While it is a nice compliment, how about ask me something? How about ask me some crazy weird question that I've never been asked before? Something that I would think NO ONE would care to know about? Be creative. Don't just throw some adjective at me that you've probably thrown to several women before. "Pretty". ...What does THAT even mean anymore? I don't even know how to classify someone as pretty. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> But then most of everyone seems ugly to me lately. Ugly inside. All knotted up, looking for someone to help them untangle the knots so they can breathe. I don't feel like doing it, truth be told. I don't feel like helping people deal with their problems. Because half the time they don't listen anyways. They still make their own decisions by the end of the day, and that decision is never what they were advised? You see? You don't listen to someone when you should, but you listen to them when they put you down? Come on, girl, get a grip. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Life is what you make it.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Life is what you make it.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tell me, what is your secret little quirk that you hope no one ever sees? Mine would be organization. I organize things oddly, and it's not often that I let someone around for it. ....It's just strange. </span></div>White Allies Of Black Lives Matterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697790192507463109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-522522358890796533.post-89066799062256634342010-08-02T09:13:00.000-07:002010-08-02T09:13:36.988-07:00I Know My Place. It's Time You Learn Yours.<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So I was sitting<br />
And I was thinking<br />
And I was thinking about you<br />
And I couldn't help but feel the rage bubbling up inside of me. I had to acknowledge it. I had to understand. It took a bit. But I settled down. <br />
And I realized.<br />
You done did it. You bullshitted the bullshitter!<br />
Congrats!<br />
How does it feel? To know you out bullshitted the bullshitter?<br />
<br />
I know it feels good. <br />
Cept you aren't sure if I'm speaking of you or not. So you're sitting there anxious.<br />
Nervous.<br />
Looking over your shoulder.<br />
Wondering.. is it me? I bullshitted pretty hard.. I wonder if I really got her?<br />
<br />
WELL THINK AGAIN MOTHAFUCKA<br />
<br />
Cause I figured it out and I know that you're a piece of shit. You're a grimy little fuck.<br />
And now I can turn the tables. And I can get ya right back.<br />
Be ready. <br />
<br />
Buck up.<br />
<br />
BUCK UP, MOTHALICKA.<br />
<br />
You disrespectful little shits.<br />
I let you into my fucking home. I let you in.<br />
I let you come hang out and do ya thang and be around my awesome.<br />
And that's how you repay me? This is the thanks I get? <br />
<br />
Well fuck off. <br />
Take yer shit elsewhere.<br />
Grow up.<br />
Talk to me when you can buy alcohol. <br />
Talk to me when you fucking grow up. <br />
I don't want it around, I don't want you around. <br />
<br />
Get the fuck over yourself.<br />
<br />
Yer done.<br />
<br />
And as for you, sir.<br />
Ohhhh ho ho .<br />
I'm sorry we must draw this thing to a close, but I've come to a massive realization.<br />
I know who I am and what I'm about. <br />
I know what I need and what I want.<br />
I know I can get whatever my heart craves. <br />
And it's not craving a low life that needs to fuck up other people's lives in order to feel right. <br />
That would've flown maybe a year or shit, even a month ago. But not now.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh, Ansel Adams.<br />
Oh, Cosmos.<br />
Oh, Numerology.<br />
Oh, Astrology.<br />
<br />
You make so much sense to me.<br />
Thank you for showing me.<br />
Thank you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So.<br />
And oh wait, are the ass chewings over with? <br />
<br />
Come over and find out.</div>White Allies Of Black Lives Matterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08697790192507463109noreply@blogger.com0