Category: musings

Truant

MissMLeave a comment

Among my extensive list of obsessive-compulsive behaviors is that of impeccable punctuality and spotless attendance, whether it be school, the dentist, work, a sushi date, my therapist-the point is, I may be a lot of things, but a no-show is not one of them. This may be due in part to my short-lived exposure to reception work, in which I found extreme irritability in people who were either late for or completely missed their appointments without the courtesy of prior notification.

I am excruciatingly punctual to literally everything, but additionally, I will have woken up at an obscenely early hour that morning to allow time for my thorough daily “get ready to conquer the world” routine. And by obscenely early, I mean like 5:00 AM.

Upon awakening, my little brain goes immediately into hyper drive, and it remains in hyper drive for the duration of my waking hours. I immediately spring out of bed (not once in my almost 21 years of life have I ever hit the snooze button) and prepare coffee, as I couldn’t possibly generate enough energy naturally to remain alert for even a moment. Then, I shower, put on a full face of makeup, curl my hair (which is what keeps my biceps sculpted), and finally put on the outfit, complete with jewelry and accessories, that I’d spent a half an hour the previous night assembling.

Every. Damn. Morning.

I am the first to arrive to my 7:30 AM Research Methods and Design lecture, having consumed the exact same, low-calorie, perfectly balanced breakfast and ANOTHER K-cup of coffee beforehand. At this point, I’ve already been awake for two and a half hours, and require more espresso.

I attend to the rest of my responsibilities throughout the day with the same level of rigor, to the extent that I panic if things don’t go perfectly as planned.

Months and months of maintaining such a rigid lifestyle cause periodic wall-hitting. I hit one of those walls today.

Today is Tuesday, which means that I had an appointment with my therapist after my 7:30 AM lecture, followed by a 3-hour class at my local community college.

As I mentioned a few paragraphs previous, I hit a wall today. After my appointment, my brain flipped a switch from its anxiety-ridden normalcy to a state of zen. I made the impulsive decision to not submit to my rigid, perfect schedule today. I breathed in some of that Serenity Essential Oil stuff that I keep in my backpack as a preventative tool for anxiety attacks, and instead of speeding to make it to my pharmacy tech class on time, I drove home.

That was two hours ago.

Now, I am laying in my bed without pants on, messy hair, and no guilt or anxious, racing heart. I feel pretty damn liberated.

The thing about living with anxiety (and perfectionism)  is that every little mistake, shortcoming, or thing that didn’t go as planned feels damning and the guilt that follows is impossible to escape from.

I get trapped in my own head. I try and fail to keep up with the pace of my eternally racing thoughts. My heart races, my palms sweat, and my breathing turns shallow.

But not today.

Today, I took a personal day from myself.

M.

Xenophobia

MissM1 Comment

The Meninists are at it again.

Meninists

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that this post was intended to be empowering to women. However, in my calm, objective opinion, it is just another instance in which sexism confines people to prescribed parameters that have no logical basis in reality.

Allow me to elaborate.

As my Sociology of Gender professor so articulately stated, “The only job men can do that women can’t do is be sperm donors, and the only job women can do that men can’t do is be milk and egg donors.” This is obviously due to a concrete, biological difference between the sexes. *Keep in mind that some people are androgynous*

In terms of occupation, everything else SHOULD BE free game.

I am honestly baffled by the fact that it’s 2016 and we as a society still struggle with sexism.

Women shouldn’t have to “prove” that we can do what men can do. Women can (and do) become CEO’s, politicians, truck drivers, construction workers, and every other stereotypically male profession that you can think of, and they are successful at their chosen profession.

Likewise, men shouldn’t feel repelled from selecting traditionally female professions. Men are also breaking into “female spheres” and becoming nurses, secretaries, teachers-you get the idea.

Let’s address the second part of the quote: “women were created to do everything a man CAN’T do.” Aside from making babies, what exactly is it that men can’t do? Clarify this for me, meninists! You’re confusing my inferiorly feminine brain.

Additionally, this part of the quote conveys the message to me that women are simply here to attend to the non-manly things that men are above doing (i.e. childcare, housework, DISHES) which reinforces traditional gender roles, which I dismiss completely.

One of my favorite parts of this entire thing is the claim that “women are losing their uniqueness.” Ah, yes, because we women are all uniquely the same.

In terms of personality traits, there are more differences BETWEEN women and BETWEEN men than there are between men and women. Does that make sense? If not, you can read the results of an empirical study published by the American Psychological Association here. So what exactly is our basis for determining what men can’t do and women can’t do?

In conclusion, this quote is a beautiful illustration of just how confining sexism is to males, females, and everyone in between. Women were created to do whatever the hell they want, just like men were.

As a feminist, my goal is not to prove that I can do what men can do. I know that already-I am a completely capable, articulate, strong person who happens to be a woman. My goal is to accomplish what I intrinsically value, despite the confining attitudes of meninists, traditionalists, and the like.

That’s all I got for you for right now.

M.

 

 

 

 

Magistral

MissM3 Comments

Being a female doesn't always mean that you have to fit into a pre-set role of femininityI am frustrated. I am frustrated because people think it’s their job to police others’ femininity or masculinity.

It’s like, we’ve all been prescribed a quota-a level of femininity or masculinity, that we are required to meet, and if we don’t, other people are entitled to confront us about our shortcomings, so that we may make adjustments.

I, like each of you, have been socialized into performing my gender by means of behavior, dress, grooming, etc., and I happen to feel secure in conducting myself in a feminine manner, which falls in line with society’s expectations of the way I’m supposed to behave and interact with others. However, this is not the case for a lot of individuals.

I have a very dear friend whose significant other has been exceedingly critical about what he perceives is a lack of femininity. Consequently, she has been adjusting her appearance and behavior in order to please him.

I find this disheartening, because I really admire this friend of mine for her ability to be herself un-apologetically, and regardless of what anyone else might think. And I like the person she is.

Men are also prescribed a very rigid list of traits to obtain in ordered to be considered as adequately masculine. For both genders, and any gender in between, the societal expectations to behave a certain way are very constraining to individuals.

Real men are buff, real women have curves; men can be scruffy, women should be void of all body hair; aggression is acceptable for men, but women should remain passive; men must be diligent breadwinners while their wives maintain their households.Being feminine is a personal choice, and should never be decided by society

You get the idea-there’s a lot of rules to remember. And if you choose to disregard some, or take on characteristics of the other gender, your femininity or masculinity is called into question.

Managing to conform into a functional member of society while simultaneously developing an individual identity can be dizzying, and quite the balancing act.

There’s no wrong way to be a woman, and no wrong way to be a man. I just wish that society would allow us to perform our genders in an authentic fashion, rather than jumping through hoops in order to meet the expectations that have been prescribed to us before even our grandparents were born.

Imagine if these hegemonic masculinities and emphasized femininities didn’t exist-I think that we all would have turned out vastly different.

M.

Purposive

MissM2 Comments

Now that everybody’s done sharing their tentative New Year’s Resolutions with their online social circles, I think i’ll finally reveal my plans to make myself a less-shitty person than I was in 2015.

 

Though I love the person I’m developing into since my faith crisis, nose-dive into feminism, and increasingly curious mind, I find myself becoming exponentially more cynical, which is something I hate about myself.

I find myself often looking for reasons to be pissed off, which makes it really, REALLY hard to be the happy, energetic ball of sunshine I once aspired to become, but will never be, due to my chronically sarcastic and brazen personality. Indeed, since I’ve been exposed to a whole new world of liberalism, I seem to have the tendency to search for things that people do that strike me as problematic, and will consequently set me off.

There are specific groups of people that are extremely hard for me to get along with (i.e. meninists, anybody who still subscribes to traditional gender roles).  I totally feel justified in avoiding individuals who fall under this category completely, but I also feel that I am much too hard on people.

For example, my dating life is a literal train wreck. Most of my interactions with men are terminated by me giving them a lengthy, wordy lecture about how sexist it is to not be interested in a girl who can’t cook, or won’t send a racy snap-chat after the first date.

I feel like I’m constantly having to defend my feminist views; nothing flips my bitch-switch faster than when a gentleman i’m dating says anything that could be seen as sexist, even if you have to flip it upside down and squint with your left eye.

So i’m going to work on that. Perhaps instead of ripping his head off every time a suitor says something I don’t agree with, I can calmly present my point of view on the matter, and then change the subject as I squeeze the hell out of the stress ball I just bought.

This resolution’s due date might extend into 2063, but it’s all about progress, people.

Additionally, I am going to get out of my own way when it comes to relationships with other people. This is a very poorly-defined goal, but I have very specific quirks that I use in order to build sky-scraping walls around myself, thus protecting my isolation.

First of all, I have got to make peace with my relationship to food and to my body. I’m talking about my obsession/preoccupation about eating in a manner that will cause me dramatic weight loss, and dutiful, religious, nauseating exercise. When one is as engrossed in the aforementioned activities as I have become, there is little time or energy left to spend on stuff that matters significantly more, and after 6 years of eating-disordered behavior and body dysmorphia, I’m tired, damn it. And ready to invest myself in building some meaningful relationships and kicking ass even harder in school.

This problem is never going to resolve itself, so I’ll have to look back into going to therapy.

I always complain about how pathetic it is that I’ve attended my current university for two years, and haven’t made a single friend, but if I’m being honest with myself, I have never once initiated any kind of effort to make friend at college. So this year is going to be different. I am going to focus on becoming more inviting, friendly, and talkative. I am going to take some risks, start some conversations, hell, even ask out a hot guy from my Stats class (after checking his finger for a ring, obviously. We have lots of super young, married folk where I’m from.)

In addition to all of these resolutions, if I have time to spare, perhaps I’ll attempt to kick my caffeine addiction.

Just kidding, I’m taking 19 credit hours. There is no way in hell I’m decreasing my latte consumption.

So there you have it. An outline of how I am going to go from a shitty person in 2015 to a noticeably less-shitty person by the end of 2016.

Happy New Year!

M.

 

 

 

 

Benefits: Denied

MissM2 Comments

 

I have had it up to here with the hook-up culture that we millennials tend to participate in.

Yesterday, I got mighty close to  going out on a date with, what I had initially perceived, was an exceptionally attractive, intelligent, and thoughtful young man. But, as we all know, some things are just too good to be true.

We’d begun texting about a week ago, and it seemed to me that we had a lot in common. He seemed genuinely interested in me and my own interests, asked a lot of insightful questions, and had some very interesting perspectives to share with me, as well. Score, right?

Additionally, he proposed the idea that he and I go to the zoo to speculate at the holiday lights that are on display this season. I excitedly accepted his offer.

Unfortunately, my excitement was in vain, because this dude decided to suck as a person just hours before we were supposed to depart on our journey to see the lights.

It was about 3 PM, and I was just about to begin readying myself for the festive evening I was about to have, when I received a text message from my would-be date.

Him: “Can I be honest? I’m not looking for anything serious. If that’s a problem, I understand.”

Of course it wasn’t a problem! I wasn’t looking for anything serious, either. I was just excited to see me some Christmas lights.

Me: “We’re just  going to see some lights, it’s only a problem if you’re expecting physical stuff from me.” 

Now, i’m not naive. I know that when men ask women out, they do so with the hope of eventually being rewarded physically, whether that be a kiss or the whole SHA-BANG. And hey, if I had a good time with a guy, and felt that he had the desire to get to know me and make sure that I had a good time with him, I’d be more than happy to give him a smooch at the end of the evening. The only thing I take issue with, is when these men go into a date with the expectation of getting some action.

Thanks to the modern technology that is the iPhone, I have screen-shotted the rest of my conversation with this dude for my own convenience:

12374881_10208123846435228_8880961497499028761_o

I will say this: at least this specific guy had the decency to reveal his motives BEFORE putting me in a situation in which I’d have to reject him in a face-to-face manner. Props to him for that.

However, I find this particular instance especially frustrating, because initially, this guy came off as someone who was genuinely interested in getting to know me, the person with thoughts and ambitions and a personality, rather than me, the person with lips, boobs, and a butt.

Also, his last text message about made me throw my phone out the window of a moving car. “Let me know if you change your mind.” Really? REALLY?

I get that the whole “friends with benefits” thing is appealing to a lot of people. And hey, if both of y’all are on the same page, the more power to you.

I personally find it offensive to express genuine interest in a person, leading them to believe that they are about to go out on a splendid date of talking and getting to know one another, only to shoot them in the foot by proposing a “friends with benefits” relationship. What that says to me is, “Despite all of the things i’ve learned about you thus far, your physical appeal is the best thing you could possibly offer me, so let’s do this thing where the only reason we see each other is to hook up” which is dehumanizing, disrespectful, and wrong.

Sadly, this scenario happens all too often in my own anecdotal experience, though not all of the other guys that have had this same motive in mind have had the decency to explicitly express it.

I guess what i’m saying here, is that if you are looking for friends with benefits, please do the other person a favor by expressing your intentions from the get-go, in order to avoid participating in douche-baggery.

Also, everybody i’ve shared this story with has given me the typical “you deserve better” response, which I fully agree with, but I’d just really like to know where these “better” people (and by that, I mean people who don’t just want to date a girl to get in her pants) hang out. Because obviously, I’ve never been there.

The most detrimental consequence of this entire event is that now I have nobody to see the Christmas lights at the zoo with. Any takers?

M.

 

Authenticity

MissM1 Comment

Are you still there?

Good. Cuz M is back, baby.

This past couple of months has been nothing short of crazy. First of all, I took on 18 credit hours of school, which literally killed me. I am dead inside, and my soul has been sucked away in a flurry of final exams, which completely kicked my ass.

Also, I switched my minor to neuroscience, and have made the executive decision to enter the medical field, and specialize in something super cool and prestigious, like brain surgery. (Grey’s Anatomy may or may not have slightly influenced this decision.) I discovered that my one true passion is neuroscience, and that the brain is by far the coolest and most badass organ in the human body.

So, school is going well.

Employment, however, is not going so well. Over the course of the Fall semester, I have held three different jobs. I spent a solid THREE WEEKS as a barista at my local coffee shop. I learned during this time that it takes more than an obsession with coffee to master the art of espresso-making. Additionally, I am really, really good at spilling liquids all over me, my coworkers, and my customers.

Job number two was as a receptionist in a mental health clinic. All I can say about that is that frankly, I don’t want to be a receptionist.

And job number three, which I am proud to report that I have held for 2 MONTHS, is being a sales associate at one of my favorite clothing stores. I love it and want to work there forever because first of all, I get an average of 4 hours to work a week, which makes my paychecks big enough for about a quarter of a Victoria’s Secret bra, and I also get a 40% discount on all clothing items, which I can’t afford because I never work.

Kidding, I have no desire to work retail any longer than I have to.

But what I really wanted to tell you all about is that I got a tattoo!

Tat

Do you LOVE it?

It’s the Hand of Fatima, which is symbolic of the “feminine holy hand.” It’s located on my upper side, which, I’ve been told, is the most painful place to get a tattoo.

I’ll have you know, though, that I didn’t even flinch. My tattoo artist said I took it like a champ, which I obviously am.

I’ve been wanting a tattoo for a long time now, and I feel like getting inked is my way of claiming my body as my own. I feel empowered to live authentically-It’s funny what a little permanent sticker can do to a person. Also, I want like 300 more of them.

So there’s a semi-decent update on what I’m doing with my little life lately. More to come soon.

Cheers!

M.

Exclusion

MissM4 Comments

Can someone please point me to the part in the bible that says “Yea, forsake thy bretheren/sisteren who differ from thee”? Because I can’t seem to find it. Which is funny, because that’s the law that people seem to be living by these days.

It seems that the more I advocate for inclusion, the more excluded I become.

I feel like a plague or a parasite that people are protecting themselves from. Apparently if you drink coffee, wear tank tops, and think that all people deserve to be treated as equals, nobody will want to play with you. Even the people that have been in your life for years.

The more I think about it, though, the more it makes sense. Even in Primary, I remember having discussions about the importance of choosing good friends who have the same standards as you, which, where i’m from, meant that mormons stuck with other mormons for the most part.

I love mormonism, and I love the people within it. I don’t necessarily agree with everything in it, but I am doing the best I can. And it stings that through my well-known “struggle,” I am having to try my best all by myself.

Every Sunday, I sit through my meetings by myself and try my best to stay calm and keep an open mind, and return home either in tears or in a flurry of frustration or pain.

I can’t seem to find my tribe. Even through grade school, I’ve been in constant pursuit of finding a place to fit in. But now that i’m starting to figure out who and what I am, even the few people I though I had are turning their backs.

Not to rain on anyone’s parade, but I had to get this out there. I feel better already.

A Very Solitary M.

Consummation

MissMLeave a comment

I have two days left of teenagerhood. Two days, people. And then I am twenty. And I am no longer considered an adolescent. But I am also not eligible to drink alcohol or rent a car. But that’s neither here nor there. What i’m trying to say here, is time passes quickly. Not to be sappy or cliche, but where did all this time go?

According to some website I found using Bing, (I should really change my default search engine to Google. Who the freak uses Bing?) the average life expectancy for a female living in the United States is 81.3 years old. By that statistic, my life is a fourth over. WHAT.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what i’ve accomplished over the first quarter of my life. To my dismay, I couldn’t come up with much. Of course, there’s the basic accomplishments that everyone of my age, SES status, etc. achieve, y’know, things like losing all your baby teeth, learning how to drive, learning how to change a tire (pending), moving out (I lasted 4 months), graduating high school (Honor Roll. Nailed it.), and starting college, I guess.

Then, there’s the few person-specific things that people accomplish due to situational factors. For me, some of those would include dancing for BYU’s youth ballroom team, getting published in my college’s literary journal, visiting Europe, beating Anorexia, and maintaining honor-roll worthy grades throughout my college career thus far.

In retrospect, I was an exceptional kid from an academic and civil compliance standpoint. But so what?

I love my social media accounts so much. SO MUCH. But the problem is, other people love theirs so much, too, and because they love their social media accounts, they share all of the fun, fantastic adventures their youthful selves are experiencing. So-and-so from high school went on a 6-month humanitarian trip. What’s-her-bucket got into some ivy league school on the East Coast. And that dude is married with a kid.

And me? I’m in the same place i’ve always been. Living with the family (which I love, don’t get me wrong. Not paying for food is bliss. And my family is basically the best ever), going to school, and working. One can’t help but feel stagnant, in comparison to my less-stationary peers. I’m not throwing a pity party here, I’m just stressing (as anxiety-laden folks like myself do), that I might be missing my chance here to go and do and see and experience. Sometimes, I feel like i’m in my own way.

The advice i’ve been given for this problem i’ve created myself is to stay the course, and things will work out. So I guess that’s what i’m doing.

Is this a quarter-life crisis?

M.

Godforsaken

MissMLeave a comment

Helllllo fellow Internet users! This girl missed her connection home from Florida, granting her an abundance of time to update you on my latest adventures whilst kicking back in Delta ‘ s Sky Lounge for the next 6 and a half hours.

I haven’t blogged in quite some time, which is good in some perspectives. Typically, I blog when life is getting difficult, and I need somewhere to exploit my feelings. But I’ve been getting better. Even my therapist thinks so. Choosing to be happy is easy when you take school, work, and any other adulty obligations out of the equation of life.

I spent this past week cruising the carribean with my family on Disney’s Fantasy cruise ship. Happy Christmas to us! Cruising is fun especially when you have access to Dramamine and there’s employees just waiting behind a counter to pile your plate high with watermelon, pineapple, pizza, and mini chicken wraps. Also, there are soft-serve ice cream machines that are operational and poolside from 11 AM to 11 PM. Half a day of access to instant, lactose-y happiness.

Hunger does not exist on cruise ships, because after a day of busily lazing in the Carribean sun in a bikini, leisurely sipping down Lemonade Lite (gotta watch that figure) you are whisked away to a beautifully set table in an extravagant venue where your own personal wait staff seats you, places your napkin on your lap, and brings you a four-course meal and two desserts. The food stops flowing at 10:00, leaving just enough time to climb all the way to the top deck of the ship for one last ice cream cone.

This method of vacationing, my dear friends, is a post-anorexic’s nightmare. But rest assured, it didn’t stop me from scarfing down at least twice as many calories as my previously petite body requires for optimal function. Technically, I’m still on vacation, so my weight-gain anxiety probably won’t set in until about this time tomorrow when I’m angrily attempting to put on non-stretchy pants.

We had some glorious stops, though, on our voyage around the Carribean islands. We stopped first on a dual-owned island called St. Martin’s. (Half French, half Dutch) where we swam with Dolphins, or Darlings of the Ocean, as I affectionately refer to them. I made two young friends that day, Paris and Gaya, who were four and seven years old respectively. These two sea mammals allowed me to cling to their pectoral fins as they dragged me around their aquatic home. It was magical.

We also made a stop in Puerto Rico, where a team of gorgeous Puerto Rican men assisted us in ziplining through their exotic forest. I assured them I’d be back soon.

Our final stop before returning back to the motherland was at Disney’s own private island: Castaway Cay. This was my least favorite of the stops, as their island was not nearly as beautiful as either of our previous stops. I did, however, engage in some pretty unique activities. We kicked off the day by taking a lap around the cay on beach cruisers. Then, we were granted the opportunity to hand-feed a bunch of sting rays who had had their stingers forcefully removed. (Shall we simply call them rays now that their stingers are missing?) The day concluded with a parasailing adventure. I did not previously know what parasailing entailed until I was strapped to the parachute and gracefully gliding above the boat that had taken me out to the middle of the sea. Naturally, I sang the entire ballad of A Whole New World from Disney’s Aladdin whilst airborne.

All in all, it was a killer time, and also made me extremely grateful for my room back home where I have a bed to myself and can dress without constantly covering myself with a towel for fear of an unwelcome gaze of a roommate. Also, it’s time for this girl to hit the gym. Hard.

On a lighter note, Christmas is around the corner and I have not even begun my holiday shopping. If any of y’all have any sort of expertise in this area, please hit me up.

Party on, Wayne.

M.

Voiceless

MissM4 Comments

Have you ever had a million things to say, but nobody to say them to?

That’s me, as of present.

As you can infer from previous posts, (and, quite frankly, this entire motherflippin’ website) my life is the kind of mess that Mr. Clean would shake his bald head at in surrender. As you can imagine, I have a thing or two on my mind.

My social circle is small. Like, point-of-a-freshly-sharpened-#2 Pencil-small. Recipients of my potentially verbalized thoughts are very limited.

And those within my minuscule social circle seem to not want to hear what I have to say. Granted, some of my feelings and grievances are completely irrational, (Not. Rational. I admit it, geez.) but it seems as though lately, I rarely even get the chance to finish.

Now, I’m not playing the vicim here. I found some sort of inspirational quote prompting me to become the heroine in my story, rather than the victim, so that’s what my new mindset, and phone wallpaper, as of recent.

I don’t even want sympathy. Sympathy pisses me off.

I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.

I want a trusted individual to listen to a complete, raw, uncensored, irrational rant of mine, and not say a single thing until I’ve indicated that i’ve finished. Then, I want them to respond with a Denzel-Washington-From-Remember-The-Titans pep-talk, and a hug.

But for now, I will settle for writing my desires here for you lovely people, and leave it at that.

SHUT UP AND LISTEN.

M.