Top 5 Favorite Bands

  • BORNS
  • Cold War Kids
  • Damien Rice
  • Muse, the Hullabaloo Album
  • Portugal. The man
Showing posts with label stereotypes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stereotypes. Show all posts

Thursday, February 11, 2016

But what about her? Anthem of the heart breaker.

This piece is going to swear. Just once though. I usually abstain from crude language, but in the context of the thoughts going through my mind, there was not a better word. 



And the stage is set. 

Scene 1: Boy likes girl.

It's the girl he's been in love with all his life, the girl next door, who never seems to notice that he even exists, but she smiled at him that one time.

It's the girl who has been his best friend for 3 years. He's seen her without makeup, in tears, sun burnt, acne covered, then though puberty when she suddenly became gorgeous to the world; but he's known she's beautiful throughout the entire journey.

It's the girl who sits next to him in math. She jokes with him and helps him with his homework.

It's the girl who has freckles. The girl with white blond hair or curly black locks. The girl with straight As or the girl with a rebellious streak. The girl who wear tee-shirts. The girl who wears dresses. IT DOESN'T MATTER.

Because he loves her. He loves her so much and when he sees her he gets butterflies. He loves her because of her soul, not her body. And she makes him so happy.

Beautiful.

Day after day her watches her, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she feels the same way.

Except she doesn't. 

He texts her everyday with "I miss you" text messages. He asks her out and hopes she says yes. He buys her flowers and chocolate, knows all of her favorite songs, he can tell when she's feeling sad when no one else can, and it gives him so much pain that no matter what he does she does not retaliate the feelings. 

Because she doesn't miss him. She doesn't want to go out with him. She doesn't care about what he says or does it will not change the way she feels.  She keeps saying no.


And he and his friends look at her with daggers of hatred because what a cold-hearted, condescending, insensitive, obviously insecure, BITCH. Sorry. She's not even pretty. She's not good enough for him anyway. She's a brat and he's lucky he sure dogged a bullet. 

Her friends shake their heads at her as they ask how she can be so heartless, and "why can't you just give him a chance, and he's such a good guy.  And it would make him so happy if you went out with him. And look at how you torture him. You're the reason people kill themselves. SMH SMH SMH "

Scene ends with the heart broken. The "why doesn't she return my love?" The "how can she be so cruel?" Boy is sad. Boy doesn't know how he will ever get over her, if it's even worth it. Poor boy.

And here the audience cries. They have all felt heartbreak. They feel for boy.

They all ask "why?" They all ask "why is love so empty?" No one cares to ask, "what about her?"


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Scene 2: Her

She has no idea he feels this way. She tries to be kind to everyone, smile at strangers, help classmates out with math. She has lots of friends that are guys that she's known since forever. When she sees him, he's sad, and she doesn't know why. She tries to help him, but this seems to only make him sadder.

"Ignorance is bliss." -Thomas Gray

BUT SOMETIMES SHE DOES KNOW.

She hears every dagger and feels every every word spoken. She has a heart and it's breaking but not because someone doesn't love her back, but because she cannot possibly return the value of love that has been invested in her and the debt she feels grows everyday. She sees the boy, broken-hearted and broke, spending his love on something that was never for sale. She wants to shake the boy and scream stop! The love you pour falls into a bucket with a crack; a bucket that will never fill and when it's done you will find your rivers dry and vegetation crumbling because you have thrown your most valuable resource onto the dry desert ground. 

No amount of feelings he has for her can create feelings in her for him. 

It kills her that she hurts him. And it kills her that she has no control over it. Her heart isn't cold, it's alive and beating and just as important as his.

The more he pushes the more it hurts. He tells her she is the only thing that can make him happy. He tells her that she makes life meaningful and without her he doesn't know if he wants to live. He tells her she's beautiful and thinks that's enough to win her over. 

But she just doesn't like him. Her friends shake their heads at her indifference.

But she just doesn't like him. He could be the most brilliant, attractive, funny guy, but it would not change the way she feels.

Scene closes with the heart breaker. Guilt driven loneliness. Ashamed for feeling a way that should not be shameful. Girl is sorry. She really is. But girl can't change.

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It's not just him and her. It's her and him. It's the gay guy who falls for the straight one or other way around. It's every love sick human who has ever found their love sold and every person who can't be bought.

It hurts to be heart broken. But don't forget the pain of the heart breaker. Because both have a heart.

And loving someone never guarantees love.

Close scene.
Roll credits. 

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Stop telling me to take off my hat

When a baby is born, the one of the first things you do is put a hat on its head.

The head is the area of intense blood flow, and the vessels of the scalp are particularly vulnerable to external cooling. The blood drops in temperature, lowering the core body temperature.

A baby's head is also larger in proportion to the rest of its body, and often doesn't have hair to insulate the delicate skin; thus exacerbating the process of hypothermia.

It is very important that their head is protected.

Hats from the moment we are born.  Both physical and social. After all, baby girls get pink hats and baby boys get blue. Categorized from the beginning.

People who are Construction workers. Bicyclists. Fire fighters. They wear hats to protect them.  Obviously a construction worker is more then a construction worker, and can have dreams and aspirations and personify traits that have nothing to do with building buildings.


But the hat keeps that worker safe.

Call me fake if you want, but just because I don't show the sad parts of my personality often does not mean the happy parts I do show are fake. I wear my musician's hat. My artist's hat. My "I love calculus" hat.
My happy hat when I'm sad.
My intimidating hat when I'm scared.

Because sometimes hats protect the parts of us that are most vulnerable. Sometimes you just have to suit up and do the job.

Wearing a hat doesn't make you fake. How can it? It's yours, and you choose to wear it.

I don't care about the hats others put on me. I only have one head. And I choose what's on it.

Stop telling me to take my hat off. Because of I took it off just to appease people, that would be the fake part.