I guess that was too much to ask of my will power.

I just blogged this on my other, more private blog. But since I haven’t paid this site any attention lately, here is the latest stream of my consciousness.

                I drove by an accident on the highway today. The car was small, black, and now smashed in the front. A high-pony-tailed girl with a tank top and athletic shorts was sitting in the grass near the scene, being examined by paramedics. I wondered if it was you.

                Actually, I wonder about you a lot. Wonder how your mother is doing, physically and mentally. Wonder how your brother likes school. Wonder how dance team is going. Wonder how your first real relationship going.

                Okay. That last one was a lie. I don’t give two fucks how you and your boyfriend are. But what I wonder the most, is if you wonder about me. Although, I’m pretty sure I know the answer. If I was that easy to leave behind, I’m probably easy to ignore.

                You’re not. I see you every day, right after first period. He waits for you. Sometimes I see you in passing later in the day. Always with him. Your pictures show up on my newsfeed, even though I unfriended you ages ago. I see you “dance” at the basketball games. Because, you know, dance is your life now. Even though you’re awful, and still as stiff as ever when you perform. Not that I would have ever told you that before, because that’s what friends don’t do.

                It really hurts when people ask about us. Friends, my mom, my dad. Usually I respond with resound “Fuck her. Fuck that bitch. She is a pitiful excuse for a human being.” I only mean it half way, I think. Because, I don’t know if I truly believe that you knew how much your actions hurt me; you’re kind of daft. You always had been. You probably always will be. Or not. It’s not like I would know anymore.

                Regardless of my pessimism, I think that maybe you might have a shred of remorse, a shred of something left for our friendship, buried deep in your shallow psyche.  It’s hard for me to believe that the girl who made a website that matched mine, both dedicated to our friendship, who put hours into making me custom e-cards as well as real cards for holidays, who never forgot me even when we were separated by military orders, who posted a heartfelt wall post on my wall at least once a month, or sent me a multi-page text message with similar sentiments…it’s hard for me to believe that  individual could just throw that all away. Thinking, really actually thinking, about how we beat the odds just being friends, how fairytale our lives were up until the end, never failed to coerce tears out of both of us. I don’t understand how someone can just discard all of that.

                I kind of catalyzed the end. I posted an emotional status (which I never do, and you knew that), so you sent me two text messages inquiring about it…and that was it. Years and years of bestfriendshipment, gone. That, apparently, was the amount of effort you decided I deserved.

                And then, when I realize that, I get even more frustrated with myself for even thinking that you deserve any of the tears that have rolled down the skin of my cheeks that you were always so jealous of.

letlovein-letloveout:

Or is it just me.

(via dobbyisfreeeeee)

Nancy Grace, a television host on HLN, decided to call up a math teacher who was having career issues because of his past in the pornography industry.

Here are my frustrations with her bit on the matter:

1. An industry is defined as, “the aggregate of manufacturing or technically productive enterprises in a particular field, often named after its principal product.” There exists a toothpaste industry, a candle industry, a clothes hamper industry. Pornography falls within that dictionary definition, Ms. Grace. It is a product that is manufactured within a particular field. It is brought about by technically productive enterprises. Just because you find pornography revolting and sinful does not mean that it is not an industry. You do not get to “demote” it based upon your own opinion. 

2.  You cannot call someone up on your show and then not let them talk. You are no better than O’Reilly, than those bitchasses in debate who don’t let me finish my answers in cross-examination. It’s rude, and counterproductive.

3. A woman called and lamented about how parents need to not let their preteenaged children look at pornography, and how she doesn’t understand why preteens are looking at porn in the first place. Middle schoolers are well into puberty, in case you are unaware. Puberty = emergence of sexual urges. Pornography allows pubescent youngins to satisfy their sexual urges and not get STDs/STIs, get people pregnant, etc. 

4. YOU CANNOT BE A “REPORTER” AND BASH THE DEFENSE OF THE FIRST AMENDMENT. THAT IS THE VERY REASON WHY YOU ARE EVEN ALLOWED TO BE ON A FUCKING TELEVISION SHOW UNDER THE GUISE OF REPORTING NEWS. You cannot conditionally accept the First Amendment. It’s all or nothing. Because we have the freedom of expression, speech, press, we have the freedom to produce and purchase and view pornography. (Also, Thomas Jefferson was a great man and you best not mock him ever again. Bitch.)

I have so many other issues with her phone call with him, but I’m not in the mood to blog anymore.