Sticks and stones may break your bones, but stress will kill you.

I've come to understand something very important in my life. This is something that is crucial to my mental well-being. Lesson: There is a difference between doing things to limit stress and the things one does in stressful situations. 

Personally, I think I have the first part down fairly well. I work out and exert myself physically on a regular basis. That expenditure of energy helps to not make small issues bigger. I think it also might help me to be more productive. I try to do school work before the last moment possible to do it. I try to eat well. All in all, I'm doing much better at doing things to limit stress than I was even a year ago.

On the other hand, I'm awful at managing stressful situations in a healthy manner. I don't think its something that I will correct anytime soon either. I get sick, emotional, and very quick tempered. It doesn't help that each of the things I find to be stressful at any given moment compound on themselves until I feel as if I'm drowning. It's not a very pleasant feeling.

So you may be wondering the reason I'm writing this, or you may have already guessed. I think that the best way to explain is to just lay it all out for you. I'm stressing at the moment. A lot. What about? Quite a few things actually.

     1) I accidentally told my boss I could work over Thanksgiving, and I completely forgot that I have a tournament that same weekend in Duluth. I can't skip the tournament because I'm skipping the one the weekend before that in Brandon. That now leaves me facing the fact that I need to find someone to work those shifts for me, surely to be a near impossible task.
     2) My apartment sucks. The land lady sucks. She doesn't do her job. We still have NO working fire alarms in our apartment, nor a working fire extinguisher. I still do not have an access code to the gates and buildings. She doesn't respond to emails, text messages, or voice messages (which are necessary because she doesn't answer her phone... ever).
     3) My cell phone is useless inside or near my apartment building. I can't send messages, nor call or receive calls. It's a bunch of bull.
     4) The university assignment submission system does not play nice with my computer. I was supposed to submit an audio recording as a journal for my French class this evening, but the system would not record. I ended up typing the journal, and I'm hoping that my instructor will be understanding.
     5) Money. Why does everything have to be about money. To be frank, I don't have enough money to pay for tuition, rent, curling, and food. Not. Even. Close. My rent alone is swallowing all the money I make working per month and more. Usually I try not to even think about money because I know it's a hopeless situation.

So there you have it. That is why I am a mess right now. Everyday it continues, and everyday I feel a little more hopeless. It's like a system of linear equations. The rate of the stress line is steeper than the rate of my hopefulness, of my motivation to overcome these things. Eventually the bad line is going to exceed the other. For now though, I've got my chin tucked, and I'm trudging through.

To Be Honest ≠ Best Results

To be honest, you're my best friend in the world. You know me better than anyone, and you always make me feel valuable, even at my lowest of lows.

To be honest, I think of you as my brother. I look up to you. I use you as a role model in tough situations. I admire you.

To be honest, I have a fear of disappointing you. The naturopath told me that I am not the cause of any person's disappointment ever, but I still have this fear.

To be honest, I don't like her, but you already know that. I know that I'm biased because the past history of resentment between her and I, but it's more than that. I don't like how she doesn't respect you, your family, or your friends.

To be honest, it sometimes makes me sick when I think of how you put up with her. She treats you like shit, and yet you don't try to stop her. I don't understand what you see in her, and I probably never will.

To be honest, I'll probably never approve of the two of you. I'd like to think that if you ever got married, that you would ask me to be your best man, but if you married her, I know you wouldn't ask because keeping a fiancée happy at the wedding is more important than coddling your friend's ego.

To be honest, I'd try my best to be happy for you if you decide that she's "the one." I'd swallow my resentment, and put a smile on for you. I've never been good at lying to you, but that wouldn't stop me from trying. Maybe you'd even accept my effort and let sleeping giants lay.

To be honest, I simply want you to be happy. The question of whether or not what makes you happy is what is best for you is non-applicable.

To be honest, I'll probably never be able to tell you any of this to your face because I'm am hopelessly terrible at serious face to face communication.
To be honest...



Okay, so I am much beyond being over-tired while I'm writing this. There is this little voice inside my head that is telling me not to write this, not to publish this, not to even complete the thought. I'm ignoring it. Oh well! Now I challenge you, reader, to think of your own "to be honest..."



Peace and good night!

Project Unbreakable

The other day I stumbled across this blog on my Tumblr dashboard. It struck me as very motivational, and, after reading through the first dozen pages of it, I decided that I want to help in some way. What better way for me to help than to promote it? The blog is called Project Unbreakable. Read through the mission statement below, and go check it out. 

"The mission of Project Unbreakable is to increase awareness of the issues surrounding sexual assault and encourage the act of healing through art. Since the project's conception in October 2011 by then nineteen year old Grace Brown, it has featured over two thousand images of sexual assault survivors holding posters with quotes from their attackers. Project Unbreakable has been featured media outlets such as Glamour, TIME, The Huffington Post, and The Guardian."

Speak Up. Your Voice Will Be Heard.

The other morning, BuzzFeed featured a story from Project Unbreakable (website/Tumblr), who work with survivors of sexual assault, photographing them holding a poster with a quote from their attacker. The unique story uncovered stories from men who have been assaulted, and touched base on some of the stigmas surrounding men and sex, with quotes from attackers such as “Don’t worry, boys are supposed to like this,” and “You’re a guy, you can’t say no to a girl like me.”, as well as many threats to hurt loved ones. Many people still don’t realize that yes, men CAN and ARE victims of sexual abuse, not only from women but from fellow men, and that it is not made any less traumatizing for a man simply because he is a man, and saying things like “man up” does nothing except further de humanize and hurt the victim. There is, if possible, even more blame put on a male victim of sexual abuse than female because people assume that all men want sex, from any person, at any time. Stop this. Stop the abuse of ANYBODY, stop victim blaming, and stop telling male abuse survivors that men being raped “isn’t a real thing.” You can read the full story and see the rest of the pictures here.

*This post is also published on my second blog. 

If My Son Were Gay.

“If my son were gay,
I’d slap him
With a nice high five.
Because coming out to your dad,
Takes balls that most men don’t have.
If my son were gay,
I’d beat the hell out of him.
Because he said he was better than me
At Super Smash.
(He basically was asking
For me to kick his ass.)
If my son were gay,
I’d kick him out of the house.
Because why waste June on video games,
When there are sports to be played?
And just because he likes making out with boys,
Doesn’t mean he can’t tackle the shit out of them, too.
If my son were gay,
I’d call him a douche.
But only because this morning,
He ate the last peanut butter cup in the house.
(The jerk knows they’re my favorite.)
If my son were gay,
I’d still give him the talk.
I just wouldn’t have to worry about a baby in nine months.
If my son were gay,
I’d make fun of what he wears.
Because damn, son,
Those heels don’t go with that dress.
If my son were gay,
I’d tell him to be proud.
Because you’re human no matter the gender
On the other side of your mouth.
If my son were gay,
Nothing would be different at all.
Except that twenty years down the line,
I’ll be expecting a handsome son-in-law.”

—	"If My Son Were Gay" - Nishat Ahmed

Invitation to a Beheading

I have read a lot of books. I like to read, so that probably has something to do with it. I can't say that I actively read a great variety of book, but I do occasionally switch it up. Whether I'm forced to add variety or not doesn't matter because I normally enjoy what I read.

For my comparative literature class, we're finishing up Invitation to a Beheading. This book has been a pain and a half to get through. The style in which the author, Nabokov, writes is, to say the least, choppy. He purposely uses words that one normally doesn't see together. I've found that trying to speed read this book like I normally would do is comparable to running head-first into a concrete wall with the expectation of busting through it and the determination to continue doing so. The book requires you to read slowly and carefully. Not to help matters any, the plot of the story is completely convoluted. Walls ripple and dimple, and characters dissipate into thin air.

The main idea of the plot is centered around the main character, Cincinnatus C., and his interactions with the prison staff where he is being held awaiting execution. His crime: "gnostical turpitude," which no one, not even the professor, seems able to define. The trouble comes in when you try to think about which of the characters are real and which are something else. Many times in the story, Cincinnatus describes himself as opaque and the others as transparent. A striking example of the absurdity of this book is this paragraph: "'What a misunderstanding,' said Cincinnatus and suddenly burst out laughing. He stood up and took off the dressing gown, the skullcap, the slippers. He took off the linen trousers and shirt. He took off his head like a toupee, took off his collarbones like shoulder straps, took off his rib cage like a hauberk. He took off his hips and his legs, he took off his arms like gauntlets and threw them in a corner. What was left of him gradually dissolved, hardly coloring the air. At first Cincinnatus simply reveled in the coolness; then, fully immersed in his secret medium, he began freely and happily to..."


Despite all this, I still find that I am enjoying the book. Even though it is a slow read and incredibly confusing, I like it. It reminds me of George Orwell saying that sometimes words are simply written for the pleasure of "purple mountains," and "peaceful pastures." It takes some getting used to, but I would still recommend this book. You'll either love it or hate, but whatever you do, do it with a passion fitting to the story.

Food for thought. 

Bigotry at its Finest

Why do people hate?

I suppose it is a natural disposition to strike out against what one doesn't understand. People want to be heard when they say something. They want to be noticed. In this case, I suppose this holds true even when the spokesperson is anonymous.

This is a picture taken by me yesterday. I went for a swim, and I had dinner with some friends. When I returned to my dorm, this is what was written on my white board that hangs on the door... in permanent ink. I don't know who wrote it, and I can't say for sure what they hoped to accomplish by it. What I can do is speculate. What I can do is use it. What I can do is spread a word.

This is a word written in hate. It is a message intended to scare. To be completely honest, it did scare me. It scared me quite a bit. It is scary because I don't know who wrote it, or what they intend. As of now I'm scared enough that I don't feel comfortable living in what is essentially my home. I don't feel comfortable on this campus... for now.

Why did they write what they did? Well, I think they probably used the word "Fag" because it is such a derogatory term. As far as describing LGBT people, it is the worst term I can think of. As for the division sign, I believe it is a reaction to Proposition 8. On Facebook, many multitudes of people in favor of equal marriage rights changed there profile pictures to equal signs. In response to that, many people that did not agree changed their pictures to division signs. That is my best guess at the division sign.

I put a picture of it on my Facebook, and a lot of people, good friends and family, commented on it. What I noticed about the comments though was that most of them seemed to be geared along the lines of find whom ever did it and beat him/her up. Really, it isn't okay for anyone to do what they did, but it is also not okay to retaliate with violence.

Peace...