Broken Crayons Still Color

A thing I needed to hear this semester.

A thing I needed to hear in elementary school, in junior high, in high school. And now, in college.

Broken crayons still color.

I read it somewhere on Facebook (Look, Facebook has its merits) today, and I was baffled by how beautifully simple– and true– it was.  And now I keep thinking about it, hours later, and I’m still amazed.  Maybe it’s just been that kind of day/week/semester, but it just keeps muddling around my mind like a mantra.  And it’s beautiful, and the truth in the words is comforting.

Broken crayons– and broken people– can still function.  They can still serve a purpose.  They still have value… They’re still just as bright, just as beautiful, just as useful, helpful, worthy of love.  Do you love your crayons? I love my crayons.

Because maybe John Green is wrong– maybe we can be irreparably broken, but why the hell should that mean that we’re hopeless?

Maybe my grade in German this semester is going to suck. Maybe your significant other left you. Maybe you lost a loved one recently. Maybe you lost your job, your pet, your home, the approval of someone you care about deeply.  And of course, those things are liable to break a person. My GPA is rather important to me.  The fact that it’s not going to be the best this semester is breaking me.  I’m a grade snob.  I don’t fail.  I don’t do C’s, for the love of goodness.  That doesn’t mean I’m worthless, valueless, hopeless.  It means shit hit the fan this semester. It means let’s try to never get bronchitis and sleep all the time ever again.  Because that throws everything off. But it doesn’t mean that I’m worthless.  I am a beautiful, albeit broken, crayon, and I still color.

Tampon Commercials Offend Me

Ugh. Tampon commercials. I AM NEVER EVER THAT HAPPY WHEN MY LADY AREA IS BLEEDING. NEVER EVER. SHUT UP. I AM BLEEDING. AND CRAMPING. THIS ISN’T THE TIME FOR HAPPINESS. This has been a PSA. Thank you for your attention.

Girl on the Contrary

Warning: This post talks about tampons and menstruation. I hope it’s funny. If you’re not interested in taking a chance on a maybe funny post about periods then I will give you another topic to discuss in the comments section: Reality TV is it hilarious or horrific? 

vintage tampon ad

Guess what? I’m a young woman and that means I menstruate. Shocker! It’s really not that big of a deal except it means I’m capable of bringing new life into the world and that’s pretty freaking awesome. Unfortunately, when it comes to periods (and I’m not talking punctuation) people tend to focus on the monthly hemorrhaging that takes places. And yes, that aspect of it is unpleasant. Luckily for women today, we have an entire artillery of products to help make those periods just the slightest bit less unpleasant. One of those products is tampons. Yay tampons! If you’re a woman you know…

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To the Male Population: Don’t like seeing my knickers? Don’t look up my skirt!

“Ain’t I a woman?” is such a fantastic speech. Honestly, I can’t believe that women are still, to this day, in 2014, being treated like sex objects. I am a woman, yes, but I can hear, and work, and take a freaking beating if I have to. For the love of goodness, I have horrible cramps and bleeding every month, and still go about my day. If that isn’t strength more than a man has to show, I don’t know what y’all want from women.

Abstractions of Life

Image Me in Bruges, on discussed day, in discussed outfit.

Last week I was in Bruges, Belgium. As one does in Bruges, I knew I wanted to go up the Belfrey Tower. The Belfrey is one of the oldest attractions in Bruges, and there is fantastic view from the top. To get to the top there are steps. A lot of steps.

As myself and my cousin, my travelling partner, had arrived in Bruges from Paris, we had already climbed quite a few stairs. Numerous attractions, not to mention the metro, run off of steps in Paris, (which is fine for my escalator-phobia). My cousin was therefore lacking the physical motivation to climb up yet more; deciding instead to enjoy the view of the tower from beneath it, tucking in to some tasty Belgian waffles.

Result? I was going it alone.

Which was fine. For me, this was fine.

That morning I had…

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On “Rude” by Magic!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PIh2xe4jnpk

*Sigh* Just when I thought pop music couldn’t be more immature.  Don’t get me wrong, whenever I hear this song, it’s catchy, it has a nice beat, and I get that, to an extent, it’s meant to come across as a “sweet” thing where “nothing will get in the way of our love” whatever… but no.

In the beginning of the song, and yes I’m pulling actual lyrics, he says “Knocked on your door with heart in my hand/ To ask you a question/ ‘Cause I know you’re an old-fashioned man.” So yes, he’s starting this marriage proposal thing out right, ya know, he knows her dad will want to be given the opportunity to give his blessing, whatever. Cool. So he goes and asks. So far so good, right?
BUT THEN DADDY SAYS NO. So what does he do? Say “Okay, I respect your decision, what can I do to prove to you that I am the right man for your daughter?” HA nope. That would be respectful and mature.

 

INSTEAD he decides to say (whether out loud or not, I don’t really think it matters), “Why you gotta be so rude?/ Don’t you know I’m human too?/ Why you gotta be so rude?/ I’m gonna marry her anyway.”

 

Yes. Because THAT’S definitely the way to win somebody’s respect. “Oh, you said no? Well fuck you, I’m gonna do it anyway because you’re a douche.” Right. No.

 

Now, I don’t really like the whole “asking for the girl’s hand in marriage” thing anyway, like, by the time someone proposes to a girl, she’s PROBABLY mature enough to make that decision for herself. My dad, as much as I love him, shouldn’t really get much of a say in whom I marry. I mean, if I were to get into a relationship with a complete piece of scum, I expect SOMEONE in my family to maybe say something (regardless of whether I listen. I’m hard-headed. And a strong, independent… erm… woman who don’t need no man). But ultimately, the marriage decision is mine and mine alone. I’m 21. I’m gonna make my own mistakes, regardless of whether my parents try not to let me. It’s gonna happen. Hopefully I don’t end up marrying the wrong man, but hey. Realistically, it’ll happen with or without my daddy’s blessing.


But anyway. Regardless of the bullshit that is asking a girl’s dad for her hand in marriage (in my opinion, of course), if you know her dad wants that, and you respect that wish, and he says no, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK GOING AGAINST HIS WISHES IS GOING TO HELP YOUR CAUSE?! Because I promise you, it won’t. And if she values her daddy’s opinion, as many girls do (myself included, even though I am defiant and convinced I know best sometimes), she’s not going to be thrilled when she finds out (and she will, I promise. Girls know everything. Also Daddy is liable to warn her about the incident.) that you KNEW her dad didn’t approve and you defied him anyway. That’s not how that tradition works. If you’re gonna do the traditional thing, respect the tradition. Don’t just go through the motions.

Why I’m More Pro-Choice After Having a Baby

As a woman who could have really nice life-threatening consequences to being pregnant, yes. Yes I am pro-choice.

The Slacktiverse

Trigger Warnings: Limits on reproductive choice, fatal birth defects, fetal distress / death, traumatic pregnancy and birth, post-partum depression

by Storiteller

Some pro-lifers like to claim that if pro-choicers ever got pregnant or had children, the very act of parenting would turn their hearts and help them understand the sacredness of life. Bullshit.

First, 60% of women who get abortions already have children. They are making the choice that will allow them to care for their existing children in the best possible manner.

Second, at least in my case, I found that getting pregnant and having a child actually motivated me to be more pro-choice than ever. Now that I’ve had first-hand experience of pregnancy, birth, and parenting, I understand the stakes much better. While I still believe that abortion is sometimes morally wrong, it is the least wrong of the limited options available in an inherently difficult…

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