Almost doesn’t count with College

TODAY IS THE LAST DAY OF THE SEMESTER!!!!!! for UVI (the university of the Virgin Islands). Can you tell that I am hella excited? I sure hope you can! Exams are next week then I am Free At last! Free At Last! Thank God Almighty.

But then I have to return the following two weeks after for summer Classes and then after those 6 weeks are over, I have to come back in august…or is it September? Regardless, I have to come back, and suffer all over again.

Which is why Almost doesn’t count with College.

There is nothing more aggravating than having someone sit there and tell you “Well, you’re almost over.” *Insert their stupid smiling face*. You could have kept that statement to yourself. It’s not reassuring. All you’re doing is reminding me that I have to return to this hellish place, the bane of my existence, because it ISN’T over.

I think, for most college students, the sentence we really want to hear is “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU’VE GRADUATED” and everything else that doesn’t say that is worthless.

It’s like highschool all over again. I’m always excited the first day of classes because it means another semester is about to go by. Then I hate the rest of the semester until the very last day. It’s a system if you will. You don’t mess with the system. And “Almost” doesn’t apply in the system. The system is black and white. I am in college until I am no longer in college either by graduation or dropout…regardless, there is no almost here.

It’s like having that teacher that returns your test and goes “Oh, you almost passed!” Yeah, I bet that makes you feel giddy about that big ass F you just received.

That aside. SCHOOL IS OUT!!!!!

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Release the brain fart

I began this year doing pretty well with my weight loss. I was putting effort into eating right, I was going to PT on time, I was doing extra PT at home. I mean, I was a fucking beast. I can do at least 3 pushups now. That may not mean much to you, but for someone with no upper body strength and who was pretty much a lazy piece of shit that means plenty! I’m sure I can run and do more situps than I ever could before.

However, now I seem to be going backwards instead of forward. I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was the building stress, maybe it was hormones, maybe it was the lack of sex, who really knows. But one day I got up and I was pretty much going food crazy. I was eating everything like a mad woman.

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I would then look at my growing pudge and tell myself, It’s okay, You can work it off tomorrow…I’m still waiting for tomorrow to come.

I have this one friend that has a habit of putting me down all the time. Friends apparently do that, but there’s a certain tone and process that one goes about when insulting a friend. For one, when you can obviously see that they feel gross, you don’t tell them that they are gross. It hurts, it sucks, and for a while I felt like absolute shit and wanted to stab her in the eye with a ballpoint papermate black ink pen. I sat in my bedroom and wallowed for a bit while the voice in my head was going “I am a fucking loser” with my hands widespread in the air, shouting up to the rainbows. Then I got over it. I literally woke up and said this bitch has nothing on me. And you know why? Because I’m awesome. duh.

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I haven’t written about love in a while and let me tell you, not thinking about that shit has done wonders for my health. I love my boyfriend dearly and although things seemed rough for a moment, I realized that it was all in my head. I was manifesting problems that were not there because my heart is obviously full of shit, So I had to remind her kindly to mind her gotdamn motherfucking business and that her job was pump blood and not a damn thing else.

I’ve seen people do some crazy shit for love and It concerns me a little. I mean, if the world was the kind of place where you had to shoot yourself to show your love, I’m sure a lot of people would be dead. Why? Because they like the attention and want to make it seem like they have the perfect love life. Now, I’m not saying I don’t love my boyfriend enough to shoot myself, but If I had to, I was shooting myself in the leg. The thigh preferably. I mean, I love you, but I’m not a friggin idiot.

To add to that, Have you noticed how people make everything harder than it should be? A yes or not question can turn into an essay sometimes and I think that’s what makes things difficult. Be honest with yourself. Sometimes you may be wrong, but shit, it’s better than beating around the bush. At the end, your choices are what matters. Ask me if I want to beat certain people in the head with a 40 pound rucksack. Of course I do. I’ll tell you yes. I’ll yell it to the high heavens. That doesn’t mean I’m going to do it though….yet.

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Jurassic Park is in 3D, so it’s pretty much like Titanic and the Lion King on the list of movies that are ancient but were remade so you can see the shit flying at you to give you a semi-heart attack and so you can waste your money to see the exact same fucking movie you watched a decade ago.

But I digress.

I saw someone write “Rawr” means I love you in dinosaur. And I admit, I used to write it too because it sounded cute…until I realized how moronic it is. This isn’t “A land before time” Little foot may have made you believe that dinosaurs are cute and musical but Even little foot can stomp the shit out of you on a good day just because she/he/it could. What the hell was little foot anyways? A guy? If so, clearly he needed to hit puberty with that high pitched, whiny voice.

If you have never seen Jurrasic Park or any dinosaur movie, then I suggest you take a gander at them and you will learn that “rawr” doesn’t mean “I love you” it means “I’m going to fucking eat you.”

You know what’s sexy? Suits and Uniform oh, and my guy’s sleepy voice.  I don’t know why but these make my hormones levels raise to heights that would one would consider above and beyond normal.

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Peace.

An Eye for an Eye in the VI

Today, The Virgin Islands lost yet another young man in an act of senseless violence.

Just yesterday I was thinking to myself, it has been a while since someone died over the weekend, and I was praising the change that I thought was coming. I honestly believed that we, as a people, were growing above the pathetic, uncivil and moral less behavior that was becoming a normal custom to the Islands.

But I was wrong.

It saddens me to think that we are still living in such a state. No, It SICKENS me. Had we not learned anything from Monday’s tragedy in Boston? Had we not learned that every life was precious? Apparently not.

What worries me now, is the retaliation that is sure to follow and that soon to come retaliation is why I am writing this post.

The young man was well known and it seems he had many friends. Of them, I saw many posts that spoke of revenge, an eye for an eye. The rage written in these posts sent a shiver down my spine as I know that all it will do is leave yet another bloody and mournful path for us to walk on.

An eye for an eye does not bring justice. Revenge nor any form of vigilante justice will bring peace to his soul. All it will do is create a domino effect and leave a trail of bodies at our wake.

Revenge is never the answer. No matter how much you feel that someone “deserves” death, you are not God, you do not have the right to take the life of another, and all you will be doing is setting yourself up to become the very person that you just put to death.

Murdering a Murderer Makes you a Murderer too.

You cannot fight Hatred with More Hatred.

Do not blind yourself with revenge nor fill your hearts with darkness.

Everyone believes that they are fighting the good fight by wishing death on another after a crime is committed, however, if this keeps up, There won’t be a VI to fight for.

Think about it.

Peace. And R.I.P Troy Dubs Joseph.

Losing Weight

I stopped tracking my weight loss progress because I felt like I was too enamored with with results and not putting in enough effort to get those results.

I woke up this morning, well, afternoon… Tomato tomahto, and I decided to try on this dress that I’ve had in my closet for years. On several occasions I was supposed to wear this dress, but my body would not fit in it, and if it did, the zipper would not yield to my direction and go up.

I was prepared to face defeat once again as I tried on the dress, shimmying my rump into the fabric. As I zipped myself up, thinking “Here we go again” I realized that the zipper had yet to stick.

And then I was in it.

After years of not being able to get into the damned thing, it went on with far too much ease. For a moment, I assumed I was still dreaming, until my grandmother walked in and Told me that If I bent over it would probably fall apart. There is probably some truth to that. While I did fit into the dress, I feared that the right deep breath or the odd position would unravel the entire thing.

BUT DAMN DID I FEEL GOOD GETTING INTO IT!

So, I count this is as progress. I hope that one day I can wear it and bend over and nothing happens.

Till then, I’lll continue with my walks, runs, and other fitness routines. Fitting into this dress is but one goal accomplished. Until I have abs, then I have not reached my goal.

Peace and WOOHOO to me!

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Readers

I was asked the other day if I knew who my dedicated readers were.

To be honest, I stopped caring about who read my blog or even my story a while back. It’s kind of why I stopped complaining about it. I write because I like to write and if someone reads and enjoys it then that’s great. I don’t get much likes or comments, but that’s fine. There aren’t a lot of views either but I’m not complaining. This is more for me than anything else.

It’s nice to get a comment or like here and there so I know exactly who is paying attention instead of just a random number to say someone was here. I’m not an out there person in the internet world or even in the real world so I know it would take time before I’m truly noticed. It’s not like I write anything that’s going to win me an award on this thing anyways. I appreciate everyone who comes out, and honestly, it does make me feel awesome when you do, but again that’s not why I do this.

As for my story, If you didn’t know, I am updating a story regularly (Well, regularly now) on Wattpad. You can find it here. http://www.wattpad.com/story/3833753-a-feral-affair It doesn’t have a lot of reads, nor comments either, but I do know at least two people who keep up with it and bite my head off when I stop updating. I enjoy what I am doing. I want to take it further than just being on the internet for fun. I want to make this a career. The support is limited but that’s okay. It’s a growing process and I am developing patience. Rome wasn’t built in a day as they say.

So, again thanks to everyone who’s reading. Love you guys! Thanks! And when, not if, when I make it, I’ll never forget you.

Peace.

Instagram Rules

Do you have an instagram? If not, that’s fine, no one is forcing you to conform to society’s need to broadcast your every waking move, meal, and thoughts.

However, for those of you that do have one, have you ever noticed the people that nag and complain about what people should and should not do on your own page? Well I certainly have and let me tell you it is a task each and every day to not want to go upside their head with a brick.

Aside from the rules stated in the terms and agreement, which I just know you all read, there appears to be a second set of rules that seemed to have been misplaced.

Allow me to list and describe them for you:

Rule #1 : You cannot put 15 exact replicate pictures of yourself in different styles/picstitches/pose, in less than 2 minutes. PEOPLE ACTUALLY DO THIS. And I have to admit, it is terribly annoying. Imagine scrolling through your feed and you see this one person’s face at least 15 times with basically the same damn picture. But, it is their page. When It gets to this point, why not just unfollow them? Oh the same goes for folks that upload pictures of textgrams or supposedly funny images.

Rule #2 : Hashtags are a no no. Some people feel that they are too good for hashtags and as such they feel that everyone else must not use them. I use hashtags as of lately. Why? Because I fucking can. They actually do something and there are people that look for certain tags (like How I tend to look for Tall, muscular, darkskin men because they are so gotdamn fine) the problem, however, comes from folks who hashtag things like #oh #idk #like #this #because #every #word #needs #to #be #tagged …. Really now? But again, your page. It ain’t ruining my day.

Rule #3: Ratings. Instagram went through this phase where people were doing group rates. It was a terrible time for instagram. Many lives were lost in this epidemic, but thankfully the instagram world is recovering from that plague. I guess it was a fun game, it was supposed to liven things up, it created drama, but of course people just hated it.

Rule #4: Shoutouts. Some folks, do a shoutout for people when they like at least 6 or more of their pictures in a row. I don’t. why? Because it’s like I am putting that person on the spot. Why should everyone know that you liked so many of my pictures? And frankly it makes my page look so unorganized. Again, it’s disliked thing. It was another terrible epidemic that swiped through instagram because it was abused to the point that you wanted to cyber slap people.

Rule #5: Food. Okay, we’ve seen them. You know where I am going with this. When someone uploads a picture of food on instagram, you think it would be a 5 star meal. These days, five star meals look like cornflakes, noodles, snacks, whatever you can think of. It’s basic meals. Unattractive meals. No amount of filter can make them look like an awesometastic meal no matter how much you try. But alas, that’s what is being done. It’s stupid, it’s ridiculous, and that leads to rule number five, stop uploading your crappy meals for the world to see.

Does it seem like I am one of the people that created these rules? Nah, I’m not. I don’t care really. Because when it all comes down to it, when you break my newsfeed with your bullshit, I happen to know that I can unfollow you the same way that I followed you to begin with. No hard feelings. You were just being obnoxious.

#Peace.

The Curse of being Female

Sometimes I damn my Uterus.

I know what you’re thinking, she’s about to rampage about females and their periods, but guess what, that’s only partially correct.

I don’t think men understand how lucky they are to be men. They don’t have to worry about periods, or child birth, or the wind blowing too hard and you get a yeast infection (These things are so stupidly easy to get).

And I know there are some women out there dying to spew the “I’m proud to be a woman, childbirth is a gift, blah blah blah” but can you honestly say that there aren’t days when you drop on your knees and go “WHY WAS I CURSED WITH A VAGINA?” because I know I certainly have on many occasions.

And let me tell you, having a child is a gift in and of itself, I won’t deny that, but the birthing process is not beautiful in the least. The end result is like a crime scene just happened in and around your vagina. And babies aren’t as cute when they just slip out either, they are covered in blood and the umbilical cord is gross to look at and you feel like crap or in my case high thanks to the epidural. Oh and you know what, you might rip the skin from your vagina to your butt and have to get stitches which makes using the bathroom and even sitting down highly uncomfortable.

Just so you know.

Guys, you don’t have to worry about this. Aren’t you lucky. I don’t know what men get as a substitute to a period, but I can only assume if there is none then suffering with our bipolar moods and constant cravings are punishment enough on your part. Oh, and if you have girlfriend, lack of vaginal sex….unless you’re into that…which all I can say is….ew. Most females I know are stuck between being overly hormonal and horny but thoroughly pissed because they can’t engage in the act,and wanting to rip the man’s head from his shoulders because he doesn’t have to deal with it.

A guy once told me, “I bet if Eve didn’t eat that apple girls wouldn’t have periods.” But here’s an interesting perspective, What if Eve ate the damn apple because she was on her period and craving apples but Adam was too fucking lazy to go find another one so she just ate the nearest available one? Yeah she was told not to, but when you’re bleeding from your crotch, rational and logic are wasted on you.

Just saying.

Peace.