This is why sharks won't bring me down

As any person in denial, I would like to think I have my life together. But sometimes I am just a tweet away from losing faith in humanity (seriously, if you are in college or older, please stop calling out your exes). So it’s always nice to get away from social media or life or just twitter even if it’s only for a day. I had the great opportunity to leave all my worries behind this past Saturday and have a family girls' day at the beach.

I hadn’t been to the beach in 2 years. And if you know me then you know that it’s been that long because I usually dedicate an entire nonsensical Facebook album to it. I thrive at the beach. I attribute this to the fact that my Zodiac sign is a Cancer and as a crab, it is required to be in the water. Or something. Or perhaps I just enjoy the feeling of being submersed. It’s so freeing. The drive down there was great. Which is saying a lot because I hate spending time in cars. But I enjoyed the scenery and pleasantries of talking. But I was just hankering to get on that sand and into the water.

I could drag this out with my tales of my heart pounding when I saw the coast and how I was like an Anime character with hearts coming out of my eyes upon viewing the sand and water. But I think you get the point. The only problem in this story is that I had been watching Shark Week fairly frequently. STOP GROANING, PLEASE. I know. You either love Shark Week or you hate it. I choose to be bipartisan on the matter. But the fact that I had been watching it left a nervous notion in the back of my mind.

Still, it wasn’t enough to get me to stop from prancing in the water. However, I don’t know if fate just has a funny way of getting to me or I have my own TV show like The Truman Show, and everything I do is already scripted but of course my mom and I were walking out to change directions of where we were swimming and this lady screams to us to get out. I was worried that she was going to say that she had been monitoring us and she noticed we set up our umbrella wrong or something (which for the record was really difficult because it was huge and there were just three of us girls). But alas, it was to tell us they had spotted “a really big shark” near where we were swimming and it was going to eat us and we would die and we had to get out. At least that’s what I heard.

It was all hearsay but I believed the frantic tone in the woman’s voice. Some guys came up to us and were so nervous they could barely talk. When they investigated and came back they resigned it was just a dolphin. I truly believe that the woman who saw it noticed how scared they were and told them that for their peace of mind. And maybe she noticed how into it I was and told me it was a Sand Shark on purpose. Who knows? But if my life is like The Truman Show then that’s what I needed to hear.

I wouldn’t get back in the water after that. I was too scared. But to say I was basically swimming with a shark is pretty cool. And the fact that we Wikipedia’d how dangerous these sharks were and it said not very didn’t diminish how awesome my day was. So all in all getting to experience some sort of weird universe where TV becomes reality was interesting, to say the least. But it was still so freeing to get away. And I recommend the beach to anyone who wants to just forget about their worries. I went to sleep smiling that night dreaming about swimming with the sharks. But in a good way.

This is why I some times take forever to post things

So every week, without fail, I always wonder what I should write about. It usually comes to me pretty naturally. But some times I just look around the room and this happens.

This is why Scooby will be missed

I took a fake poetry class at some point in college. I’m calling it fake because I didn’t exactly finish it. But why I didn’t finish it is a weird story. So pretend that fake story doesn’t exist. Because it’s fake. Now think about how many times I’ve used the word “fake” and realize that maybe it’s a bad thing I didn’t finish because I could’ve used the lesson on synonyms. The point to my odd ramblings is that I only remember two things from the class. One was that there was a poet with the name William Carlos Williams. The other thing I remember is a line a four or five year old wrote in a poem about his dog.

This little boy loved his dog. He loved his dog so much that when the dog passed away, the boy was depressed. He was having trouble in school and my professor asked him to write a poem about it. His poem was two lines and said:

“I miss my dog so much, I am reminded of him every time I look at the air.”

On Monday the dog I grew up with died. And I needed to lead in with that story because I need to convey that I completely understand that people love their pets so much. But if you met Scooby, my dog, you’d understand what I meant when I say it was hard to constantly love him. He would bark at literally any little movement. He would start in this low-pitched growl and move in to full eardrum-exploding chaos that nothing could tame. He would bite anyone he didn’t know, and since he had a horrible memory, that included his family. So sometimes he was hard to deal with.

But I also need to express that while I didn’t always show it, I loved him. And I loved him because my dad loved him. When my dad was in an accident where he was cutting down a tree and fell out and broke his legs, Scooby was outside with him. He ran to his rescue and stayed by his side until my dad got help. We also believe that the whole reason the Spurs won 4 championships is because in high-stress moments, we would play with Scooby and the Spurs would start to do better. He was a member of our family.

I can’t say that I was always gracious toward him, but I would have never done anything to hurt him. Animals are always to be at the very least respected. So to this, RIP Scooby. You will honestly be missed. And for some time that line will stick with me. I will think of you every time I look at the air.

This is why I got help

I’m going to warn you that I will be explicit right now. This is the story of the time I gained self-confidence, lost it, and gained it again. This cycle repeats itself countless times so we’ll just jump to me being 11. Oddly, that’s when I had my first “boyfriend.” It was middle school. So if you ask me now I will deny ever having a boyfriend before the age of 15, but honest to Buddha that’s when it all started. We were on-again-off again, whatever that means, through about 12. Being an angsty pre-teen white girl going to private school has its disadvantages, I suppose. So being romantically attached combined with a few mean girls, my confidence I had experienced my entire life was shot down.

That’s all boring. So let’s jump now to when I was 18. I had recovered from my white-girl self-loathing to be a relatively happy teenager. Sure, I was moody and wanted to live for some time like I was on my Super Sweet 16, but I got over that pretty quickly. Then around the time when I turned 18 it all went downhill. I was in college and hiding the fact that I was the most uncomfortable I had ever been living in the dorms at a school where I knew like 1 person. I was used to being well known and moderately well liked and having to do that all over again on top of learn actual useful knowledge was exhausting. I went through a lot of crap that year and that year was simultaneously the best and worst thing that ever happened to me.

I barely made it out. Okay that’s being a bit dramatic; let me dial it back a bit. I barely made it out, emotionally. I was an absolute wreck. And you probably guessed it. It was because of events that transpired with a boy. How foolish of me. I risked my mental and physical well-being for a guy that I don’t even currently know anything about anymore. For a short while, he ruined me. And then a year later something magical happened.

You see, I said I was mentally and physically done. Seriously, I had lost so much weight and was such a mess that I’m sure given not too much time, I would’ve ended up in the hospital. OH WAIT I DID. I was on a downward spiral that I could predict ending badly and had already damaged myself pretty badly. So yeah. That’s how that went. But I decided for many reasons to leave that school (I wrote about it awhile back). And taking some time to myself was the best decision ever. And one day, when I was sad and reflecting on everything, I felt like I needed to prove something to myself.

I decided to get healthier, and I did. But did I mention I never knew how to sallow pills? I knew I needed to be on an anti-depressant, but they could never work just right because I always had to crush them. So one night I took the initiative. I told myself I would learn how to properly sallow pills and I did. And in getting healthier and exercising and all that jazz, I gained weight and looked healthy for once. And in doing so I actually got a rockin’ bod in the process (my flat-chested friends, there is always hope). 

So yes, I was down for a while. I was so sad over things that I probably shouldn’t have been sad about. But isn’t that always the case? I implore anyone who is sad that getting help should never take as much effort as I made it. If you need to be on anti-depressants, that doesn’t make you weak. I feel a bajilion times better now and I’m still on them. It’s okay. I also sought the help of a professional and spoke to someone about everything that happened. It helped me to come to terms with a lot. Moral of the story is don’t let stupid boys (or girls) dictate your self-confidence. You are beautiful and you are unique and no one can rob you of that truth. I just had to learn that the hard way.

This is why girls need to be friends with girls

This post is a few days late but a long time coming. It’s about WHY DO GIRLS CLAIM TO HATE OTHER GIRLS?! I cannot tell you how many times I have seen a girl tweet, or talk out loud, or something about not being able to be friends with other girls. And sure, there is a difference between hating other girls and not being able to be friends with them; but usually the girls who are saying they can’t be friends with other girls are the ones who irrationally hate them.

I have had several friend groups where it has been exclusively girls and we grew apart and are no longer friends. At least that’s how I see it. I don’t resent them and I genuinely hope they are doing well. However, there are a few girls who for no reason whatsoever hate me now. (Actually I’m sure there is some reason. I just don’t know it).  My point is that these are the same girls who claim to not be able to be friends with other girls. My thought process is that I’m awesome. These other girls are awesome. Why do we have to not be friends because they’re biased against their own gender? It’s just plain ridiculous to me.

It’s also sad that there is some girl-on-girl hating here. Females have come a long way and have fought for so many things. There is no need to set that back by being catty and unwilling to talk to someone. I blame the reality shows that were around when I was in middle and early high school. Girls thought if there was drama, it would amplify how cool their lives were. Drama is bad. Drama is dumb. Why do we need to model our society around girls who do anything for attention—including hating on other girls.

I don’t think guys do this. I am pretty sure I have never heard or seen a guys say, “I just cannot be friends with other guys.” It seems silly. I don’t want to get into a debate about genders, but why can’t everyone just love everyone? Sure, if you don’t like someone for a legitimate reason, don’t be his or her friend. But don’t exclude 50% of the population because you are a dramatic-attention-seeking person. All I’m saying is get to know people before you count them out. Just because the majority may seem to be girls, doesn’t mean you should hate on every girl ever.

This is why I'm not posting today

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!!
Today I turn 21. That's a pretty big deal. And I'm out busy doing things.
Be back next week!!!

This is why I'm optimistic for 21

In one week I turn 21. I always do a mental self-evaluation to see if I enjoyed the past year and what it brought for me. I started doing this when I was around 13 or 14. By far my favorite age was 15. I’m not the only one. Taylor Swift wrote a song about it. Although, I hate her music so I’ve never listened to it. For all I know it’s about drugs and hot pants. I know I have a lot of living to do so it sounds funny that I already have a favorite age, but 15 was just the best.

And I find myself always trying to play catch-up to it in the sense that I am always trying to feel the way I felt when I was 15. But the problem with that is I will never feel the same way. Things were new to me and I was just getting a taste of freedom. I had little worries and had this broad future in front of me. And thinking back to it I smile. But then I think forward, and I think, I have the same thing going for me. I still have tons of new experiences waiting for me. I still have such a broad, bright future. I don’t have to recreate being 15; I just have to enjoy being 21. 

So how was 20? I don’t know yet. It went by the quickest out of any year for me. Nothing crazy happened. Maybe that’s a good thing. So 20 wasn’t 15. It was 20. At least it wasn’t 17. 17 was the worst. The funny thing is that even though I say that so firmly, I know deep down that there were amazing moments to 17. And so I know that while 17 was horrendous, there were actually tiny rays of light that peeked through that stone cold year. So if 17 had tiny (and I mean tiny) pockets of hope then no matter what I’m not worried about 21.

On the upside, I’m feeling pretty positive about 21. Not just because I can legally go to a sports bar to watch a basketball game during the NBA Finals (don’t get me started); but because it’s a fresh-picked new opportunity to start over. It’s sounds so cliché but even clichés have a beautiful message somewhere in there. I think for me, that message is that I have a new year to figure things out. And if I don’t, well then I’m officially legal and able to drink it all away.