Mom never warned you about him. The home grown, grass fed, US of A home town hero. He was raised on the Sandlot, on mallo’s and grahams – he’s the guy next-door, brought up on good ol’ fashioned values and he can’t catch a break with women but he really likes you. Sound familiar?
He’s the one that calls you about all the other girls, spends nights sitting with you talking about how awful girls can be, as if you after surviving high school and middle school knew nothing about how girls could be.
You sympathize, and he likes that. But then he takes kindness for infatuation and before you know it he takes a swing and aims for the outfield expecting you to catch his heart on the pop fly.
Of course, there is nothing wrong with this. With guys trusting girl friends, with guys being vulnerable and opening up – in fact that should be encouraged more, but it is the tone they use that defines the relationship that will follow.
He isn’t Friendzoned but he’s headed that way
Until this point you’ve always been that friend, that girl, that “DUFF” of sorts that agrees with him, that hypes him up and gives him the confidence he needs. But when he asks you out… well.
Alright ladies, I know you have all been there. You all have that hopeless romantic guy friend who – despite seeming like one of the nicest humans out there can’t seem to catch a break when it comes to the ladies. I have at least 5 in my life at any time. But – then you take the leap, you go out, and… yeeeeahhh.
Enter – the Friendzone
First dates don’t always work out. If they did a lot more of us would be madly in love and a lot more trusting of our emotions. But they often head more toward the friend zone than the romantic zone.
Don’t date this one
Truth is, I have spent years going for the ones that go for me like a shark in bloodied water. But none of the relationships work out. At the end of the day you can’t date the ones that complain about other girls. Date the one who talks fondly of others and be the person they talk fondly about.
At the end of the day it isn’t about what they gave you, how much the dinner cost or how or if it ended. It’s about the experience. So go after the ones that experience life. Not the ones who dwell on its shortcomings.
Sometimes my head scares me. Nights alone and nights bored, my worst enemy. I guess the problem with not being able to stop means that when I do, well, let’s just say I am an object in motion and I need to stay that way.
Lately I’ve been staying up too late. My body hasn’t gotten used to it yet – it hasn’t kicked the old lady syndrome aside but on slow nights I now feel this sense that something is missing.
I’m not depressed. I’m pensive
I’m not indifferent but being happy is strange.
I’m not myself and yet – the past couple weeks I’ve exuded a confidence that I didn’t know I had.
And I hate all of it.
Lately I’ve felt unbalanced, I’ve felt like I’ve been too adult and yet too childish. And I’m neither here nor there but I understand it. The restlessness.
So these are my confessions.
1. I’m not overly or underly confident
It’s a rouse I put up to make people think I have my shit together.
2. I’m not fearless
Not in the job search. Not in life. In fact I’m scared of a lot of things and while dying isn’t one of them, truly living is. Because it’s daunting to think that there is a right or wrong way to “life”
3. I’m not as aggressive as the one Interviewer thought I was
I’m kinda like a small dog. I’ve got a big bark but I wouldn’t hurt a fly.
4. I care too much.
About work. About friends. About living life the “right way” or doing the “right thing”. I care a lot. I care too much.
5. I’m 23 and I have no idea what I want to do with my life.
Truth is, I’m not restless because I have something planned. Truth is, I’m restless and reckless because I have nothing planned. I have no idea what my future holds. If it includes the two degrees I’ve garnished myself with. Truth is – I don’t have a clue.
This is not another article about fuck-bois or how dating culture is horrible or how me doing something completely out of my wheel house made me a better person… or is it…?
From the Deep End to the Kiddie Pool
Diving into the dating pool isn’t easy. The water is cold, the men and women are unclear and I’m pretty sure the guy who has a kid let that child go and crap in the deep-end, not that it’s anyone’s fault.
When it comes to 21st century electronic dating there is no shortage of eligible bachelors or bachelorettes, but 9/10 people aren’t actually on dating apps to date. They’re there to hook-up.
Today the a thick cloud of stigma surrounding dating culture as a whole isn’t really fair to either end of the waters. Both males and females get subjected to unrealistic expectations and high cost scenarios.
Guys (Men) are labeled crass, rude and man whorish and women are labeled as sluts, whores, or even prudes if they prefer not to do “as other girls do,” and the problem with all of it is that we quickly lose sight of who we are when our sexual desires create a non humanistic profile to “sell” ourselves as non-sexual and sexual human beings because we have to make our profiles “sell”.
The Dating App Experience
For those of you who (May or may not be using apps such as tinder) have used dating apps. You know as well as I that it is anything but a dating app.
Based on my own morals, I have unmatched with about a dozen guys just this week for rude messages about my behind or what they would like to put in it (essentially messages that would have killed a nun and made their moms wash their minds out with soap).
See when it comes to online dating, I am too busy for bars, to anxious for sketchy meet ups, and I am just simply not looking to hookup and leave. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to find love.
Maybe I’m in the wrong place and I’m certainly in the wrong time, but why is it so much to ask that we be sexy and respected no matter the platform? Is it so much to ask that we believe in this possibility for love, but moreover, and through this trial I had to ask – do I believe in this kind of love?
My answer:
Yeah?
I mean the hopeless romantic in me does. The girl who meets that ‘once in a blue moon’ guy does. The girl who is told that her strength is sexy and not in a sexual way does, but the rest of me… the rest of me isn’t sure.
Tinder For Females
At the end of the day I can’t speak for the boys- and I can’t hate on the bois but tinder for women is an experience. (Take that as you will.)
For myself Tinder was about swiping right in the right ways but based on interactions I have had, the same can definitely NOT be said for all women who use the app.
When it comes to tinder there are five types of guys, the too forward to even see where you’re at, the ‘I lift and I drink beer’ guy, the once in a blue moon sweet – I want to meet you type, the I have a girlfriend but were ‘on a break (or “we’re looking for a threesome”), and then there is the guy who can’t catch a break who tries to be all of the above and reminds me that I am just not cut out for this online dating scheme.
Each of the guys above has their own motive… but for some it is worse than others. For example one guy I recently matched with is an old classmate – but he was also this guy that I always thought he was cute… then he opened his mouth. “I am still only looking to F***” and while he has said this in the past I was naïve enough to believe that the year that has passed since we last spoke was enough for him to change his tune… it wasn’t. And while I have no issue with what he wants, I for one know that I deserve better and ladies –
YOU DO TOO
What Tinder Taught Me
The one thing I love about Tinder is that it allows me control in the conversation. Unlike manual style dating where a guy approaches you to ask you out – many men… and yes, women, can feel less of a sting from being denied online. With Tinder, you don’t feel the rejection, if they don’t swipe then you don’t know. It seems to be a simple lack of emotions in this equation.
But at the same time…
The thing I hate most about Tinder is that it allows us to hide.
With Tinder, I can hide behind a keyboard, I can say – “yes I love sushi. No I hate beer, but I love a good IPA.” I can say – “yes I speak fluent Spanish, while tripping over conjugation and the occasional google translate without dying of embarrassment.
Online I can be a dozen versions of myself, but by the time the day is done, I have gone through 12 conversations and made no progress whatsoever.
So what did it all teach me?
It taught me that – tinder is against my moral code. It taught me that its not for me, I’m not a tinder profile but I am a human looking for a lackluster thing called love. Hook-up requests and peach emojis, yeah that isn’t my language and that I really hate trying to speak Spanish to impress someone… even if I did it in Italy.
It taught me that – I am not cut out for online dating and that sorry boys… but if you don’t want me for me – swipe left.
When I think about myself and women in my generation and women in general – I think that weakness is the guise we wear to hide how powerful we truly are. but lately I have been feeling like that guise is getting the best of me personally. Why? because even today, when I got my summer dream job – when the weights lifted and the sun began to shine, I still managed to get myself twisted in the details that make adulting so awkward.
I am who I am because I have to be – Not because I want to be
And I am so damn tired of having to be x, y, and z for the sake of holding face. So here’s my truth – here’s the real…
Two weeks ago I lost my job. I was laid of suddenly and while I told my bosses I saw it coming, I had no clue and I just wanted to save face. And in retrospect I spend a lot of time doing that.
As a female in this generation I have spent 23 years talking myself into things. 23 years being my own hype woman while still looking for the approval of others – but oddly enough, this time, I ended up leaving a good and stable job for little to no other reason than – I couldn’t stay knowing that the one persons approval I was losing – was my own.
Sell yourself, But don’t sell-out
After almost a year into my career I fell short because I felt like I had sold out. I did everything right. Followed rules – to an extent and I did what was expected. But I sold out in the fact that nothing and no part fed me on a deeper level.
I started doing things because I had to. I started being x, y, z because I had to be – not because that was who I was.
So my advice. Don’t be like me.
Don’t wash up or sell out. Don’t call it quits when it seems too easy because that kind of thing won’t drive you and it won’t feed you in the way that you need.
Don’t be like me. But be you, because you have to be.
So I guess the most confusing part of my sport is that – when the gun fires, we don’t stop, we go. When the clock starts, we run, we throw, we decide when to start the jump, the throw, the race – and then we decide what line to finish on and whether or not we want to keep our mark – or scratch it.
In my sport, we don’t have a final buzzer. We leave the end open- ended and because of this… well maybe that is why I can’t see an end to what I feel as though I barely started.
I Never Saw It In A Dream – But it Became Real
Five years ago – I didn’t dream of being here. I never imagined that I would be good enough to be where I am. But, I also never thought it would hurt this much to leave.
When your race ends, you walk away. In 5 years I have watched countless people walk away when it was their time to, but I never thought that watching them walk meant losing what it meant to be a part of a true and cohesive team.
One Team – No Longer a Dream
Three years ago I was part of a team, one that cheered and pushed and expected things of one another. Three years ago I was part of something bigger than myself, but today it just feels like I’m chasing that feeling like a dream deferred.
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over— like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
PoetryFoundation.org
We all know the feeling of a dream deferred. The feeling of watching something you love slip through your finger tips like the string of a balloon leaving your hand at a crowded park with no one to save it as it flies away.
I never thought of Track and Field as my dream deferred – I never thought of it as something that could turn sour, but today, as I watch something rot and crust and sag – I realize that this love, like all others in my life have blinded me to how broken it is.
I Cannot and Do Not Win Without Them – And THIS is why We Do Not Win at all.
People assume that Track is a solo sport – It isn’t, but then again you cannot spell “Field” without “I” and I often feel that the Field part of Track and Field is forgotten – so maybe it fits. Because some times outside of my squad I feel like an I in a crowd of we’s.
It’s funny though.
The word team doesn’t have “I” in it – but if you re-arrange the letters it can say “ME”. And when I realize that, it gets me thinking how “We” turned into “Me” and “me” turned into a losing battle against myself.
A No Win Situation
Most days I ask questions I shouldn’t, ones that lead my coach to tell me to keep my nose out of it. But I personally cannot sit on my hands and be happy when this is not the team I signed up for.
AND I AM NOT ALONE
These are My Confessions
Today I am stuck. I am stuck watching people suffer because the sport they fell in love with is pushing them away as quickly as it held them close and honestly, I never thought it would be like that because two or three years ago it wasn’t.
Today I’m stuck. Stuck watching some fall to over confidence and others fail by not believing in themselves.
Today I’m waiting for something I used to have. Questioning if it was ever real in the first place and wondering if team is made by bonds among friends or by coaches who refused to take our shit.
Today I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of washed up and irrelevant, but tomorrow everything could change.
In Other Sports
In other sports we are made to stop when the buzzer fades, when the teams walk off the court – but in my sport we decide when to cross the finish line and while I can see mine inching closer, I still have too much to do to admit that it’s over.
In other sports they leave everything on the court, but in my sport I take control and me? I’ve just begun.
The day you arrive, I pray your father will have it more together than me. I pray that he looks at you like he looked at me every day we waited for you – minus the fear in his eyes when he brought me the wrong food and I couldn’t help but yell, ‘how do you not know what she wants!’ To which he will reply – ‘I am not a seahorse, she isn’t in me – that’s your…’ and he will stop there because he will know better than to mess with your mother when she’s pregnant.
My sweet baby girl, I am not religious, but when I think about my future – well let’s just say “there’s no atheist in a fox hole” and baby girl you will be the whole damn war.
To my future Daddy’s girl, I pray your father will look at you, like mine did at me. Staring into your eyes and seeing the universe and all its potential – smiling like everything he ever wanted fits in the palms of his hands. And I hope beyond hope that he has enough memories with you to last you three lifetimes over because the time you spend together, brief or long will carry you through your darkest days.
Dear Baby Girl, right now, you and me are AT LEAST 15 years and a loving husband short of meeting one another. You and I are a world and a war away but that doesn’t make me doubt that the family I am dreaming of will be anything less than the greatest adventure of my life.
To my sweet baby girl – one day I will be ready for you. And when that day comes, nothing will keep me away.
So I joined CrossFit… and before you click away, before you assume my neck quadrupled in size, that I grew three heads, and that I now eat nails for lunch and throw cars for breakfast, let me take a moment to explain what I mean.
A little over a month ago I hit a pretty deep low after a close friend of mine lost someone very close to her. And with no where else to put my energy, my frustration, my pain, I just started hurting.
See what they don’t tell you when you enter the “real world” is that grief and depression and low days… they aren’t excuses, they aren’t ways to get out of work even when you can barely get out of bed. Because, unlike the flu – depression doesn’t come with sniffles and coughs and feverish nights. And while I am fortunate enough to work in a place that would understand – that isn’t a privilege I want or plan on taking advantage of. (and I am not the only one)
Shortly after I started climbing back out of this low, I was given the opportunity to take my lunches to go to the gym – the benefits since then have not only helped me physically and mentally, but emotionally as well.
Anyone who knows me, knows I love my job… BUT… there is not enough love that I would be willing to give up on being the best version of myself. Truth is, I don’t always love coming to work. Truth is, being an adult is hard and it isn’t because of a lack of work ethic or the bills or the privilege I have and have learned – it’s because I have never and will never be the kind of person that can sit, at a computer, for 8 plus hours a day. I just can’t do it.
Before I realized it Crossfit became my escape – and like all the other times in my life that the gym has saved me, this gym brought me back to a place where I could feel like myself again.
Then I got sucked in.
My work started to suffer a bit.
And before I knew it – I had to wake up and re arrange my priorities.
In the past two weeks I have been to the Crossfit gym 3 times? Maybe less. And while I feel myself slipping away again, I don’t really know if I can trust myself to go all in again.
So here’s where I set the record straight —
Crossfit isn’t a cult, it’s a culture. It is a way for the people I see every time I go to the gym to find the same kind of peace that I do. It is a way for us to push ourselves harder than we would if we worked alone and as an athlete – that is something that gives me a lot of comfort.
Do I plan on growing three more necks, no. But, when the time is right, and when I can reclaim that sense of balance in my life – I intend to go back and stay back in it.
The moral of the story – don’t judge a gym by the biceps that workout in it, and don’t assume that everyone in the gym is there to get swol.
Truth is, we all have a story – and we don’t have to join a cult to speak our truth. We just need a culture that fits us, our goals and supports us for who we are.
To Pop or Not to Pop! That is the question! … and whether we are willing to admit it or not, we ALL want answers.
So the other day a friend of mine was watching videos where she thought the people were artfully popping pimples, but instead, realized that they were extracting some sort of thin long bug from a girls skin… GROSS! However, despite how disturbing the video was, once my eyes were turned to it – I couldn’t look away. I felt like I was rubber necking some sort of car crash and yet without knowing it I was stuck watching it like an infomercial I just couldn’t turn off.
“Just three easy payments of $19.95 and this george forman pillow pet could be yours…yours….yours. It heats, it treats, it cleans itself and its only $19.95! (plus sales tax where applicable)”
– @ any infomercial ever…
So where does this fascination come from? Why do so many of us have this deep interest in the grotesque? and why is it that we can’t seem to just turn it off or look away.
Introducing … the GOOGLE SEARCH
So according to google gen x can’t get enough of these videos – and according to researchers, when we pop our own pimples the action releases dopamine (it makes you feel good) and when we watch other people do it, like in a video, that same feeling is triggered.
Which brings me to question #2 – can we get a sort of “pimple popping high” from either ourselves or these videos? My assumption is yes – because much like the other dopamine triggering actions the 21st century has created (receiving likes and views on Instagram, getting friended, getting texts etc.) this one provides a similar feeling . So while the high wouldn’t obviously be attributed to the consumption of a substance, the feeling one gets after finally getting rid of that painful pimple could trigger a pleasant emotional response.
According to Medical Daily the popping of pimples illicit a almost relaxing or soothing response for some people – which is why a YouTuber named “Dr. Pimple Popper” has 144,000 followers on her page.
But beyond the obvious and cringe worthy content Dr. Pimple Popper also reports that for some who, beyond the fascination – some who have a condition that obsessively drives them to pick at their faces, her videos actually could provide relief and allow them to stop harmfully picking at their facial imperfections.
So let me get this straight… some of the fascination of these disgusting and intriguing videos is actually helping people?
Featured in Medical Daily and the Times all signs point to the fact that Dr. Pimple Popper, Dr. Sandra Lee, is here to stay.
After starting to upload videos in 2010 Sandra Lee has since found her fame as one of the best dermatologists around – and honestly… More Power to her!
But as for or first… or maybe our last question of whether this topic is Cringey or Captivating ? I think for now, we may just have to leave it at BOTH.
The truth is, we can’t always understand why people are so fascinated by things like this, but at the end of the day we chose To Pop or Not to Pop and To Watch or Not to Watch, so whether watching pimples getting popped gets you giddy or makes you nauseous – well that’s just up to you.
Yesterday I turned 23 and for the first time in a while my birthday wasn’t a reminder of you getting diagnosed. For the first time in a long time it wasn’t the 3 month mark of hitting another year without you. For the first time in a long time I was able to just be happy and love where I am.
Dear dad,
I miss you. I miss you everyday. But this year I have been making the kinds of choices that you would be proud of. I have been working harder and smarter and taking better care of my body because I want to live a long enough life to give you the journeys you missed by leaving us so young.
Dear dad,
Yesterday I turned 23 and I wish you were there. I wish you could have seen all the love and joy that surrounded me. I wish you could have seen the incredible people I surround myself with because if you could, you would be so proud.
Dear dad,
Today I compete in my last winter track meet and as my college athletic career comes to a close this year, I simply could not be more grateful for all it and you have given me by allowing me to be your daughter.
Dear dad,
Thank you for the best present a person could ask for. Thank you for giving me the strength to be the woman you raised me to be and thanks for showing me that love is earned and deserved rather than simply given.
Dear dad,
I’m 23 – and it’s crazy.
Dear dad, I love you. And I can’t wait to show you what I have left in store for this final stretch of this chapter in my life.
This year I’m gonna make you proud but you know what else? This year I’m gonna make myself proud too.
I have spent most of my life thinking I wasn’t good enough. That cool was something I could fabricate through looks and pop culture references. That I would never be or understand what it was like to be in the “in crowd”.
This is not to say I didn’t have a army of people who loved me. I did. But in school and outside of my summer escape to Maine I felt completely and utterly alone. During those years I felt hopeless and there was no way out of that darkness but then, 5 years ago I met my tribe.
And while I have never forgotten what it felt like to feel so on the outside you couldn’t breathe through the loneliness I have had the opportunity to find that hope I lost so long ago.
WE ARE NOT ALONE
Often I tend to internalize my fears and insecurities so, for a while, I never imagined I’d meet someone who knew what that feeling was like, but recently I did.
Most of us have that one friend that has no clue how amazing they are. That person that is gorgeous inside and out and is clueless of how rare that quality is. I have a lot of friends like that but for me, those are the best people to surround ourselves with.
MY TRIBE IS YOUR TRIBE
Recently a new person joined my tribe and while she may not know it yet – there are people that come into our lives that save us from ourselves when we need it most. People who care to listen and to help without expecting anything in return. And while she may come to think that we are trying to be that person for her, she is already that person for us.
THANKS FOR SAVING US
Without realizing it, having this new person in my little family has completely changed how we all act and see the world. It has saved us from our monotony added new comedy to old jokes and made us appreciate the simple times that we can spend together.
So to you. The person and people who have no idea how amazing you are, and to all the people brave enough to join me and my tribe on our journey, welcome. And consider this your official letter of acceptance to BDE U.
What happened to middle school dances. To the guarantee that someone would show up far to drunk to a party where ALL the adults were watching. What happened to “apple bottomed jeans”? and to “boots with the fur”? But most importantly why did growing up, mean that my scheduled social obligations had to go out the window?
“Go out, Meet People”
Most assume that in the tinder and bumble age of dating it is easy to meet people out in public. For me, this is not the case.
This, in part, is because I moved into a town with virtually no bars and all families/ college students. But at the same time, college didn’t prepare me for what comes after the end of my own young adult novel.
And why would it… because even the end of the Harry Potter series skipped twenty years ahead to sending young Albus Potter off to Hogwarts – so what is the real value of telling someone like me how to live after my nemesis is gone and my education is all said and done?
Truth is… it’s not easy to meet people when all you do is work and sleep and a decent night out costs forty bucks.
Social Structure
Today I realized that the thing I miss the most in my life is organized socialization.
I miss the idea that someone else has planned IN ADVANCE for me to be somewhere out of social obligation. And the fact that all I had to do was show up rather than putting it in my google calendar for three weeks from next Tuesday.
Graduation Made Me Do It
I will confess that I am washed up. That limbo is neither a game nor a state of being but rather a way of living and that I have embodied limbo wholeheartedly since last May.
Truth is, I am not ready to let go of the structure. Of the idea that I can be stimulated by something other than healthcare claims data and research. Truth is, I am not ready to give up on pre-planned events, but I have to.
That being said… What they don’t tell you when you graduate is that after twenty-two years of your life you will no longer have daily or weekly social obligations. You will not have to attend school functions, educational events, conferences based on scholarly merit, or movie nights. Upon graduation, it is no longer socially acceptable to attend school-related social events, excluding homecoming or other “big games”. Upon graduating and of course, landing a job, the only “social” event you are required to attend is work – and as someone who loves structure, I am NOT a fan.
Am I Wrong To Want More?
A question I constantly grapple with is… am I wrong to want more from my life? Am I wrong to want someone to talk to on the phone or in person? To go out to dinner with, even if I know dinner has to be at 9 pm when classes get out. Am I wrong to want a life beyond what is good for me and my career? Or am I just too ungrateful to realize that everything I have is more than a gift and that a year from now re-reading this, I’ll laugh about the days when having a scheduled life — beyond the crazy schedule I have given myself — and realize I was exactly where I was meant to be.
The other day a friend of mine posted on Facebook enraged that our president has stonewalled the government for this long and for this reason. Remarking how, in the beginning, Trump declared that Mexico would be paying for the wall – now that we have laid that ill thought out plan to rest, he wants to allocate five billion dollars to something that no one wants.
But a wall that is essentially a giant compensation for the total lack of respect that he receives. That is “well worth” burning money that could go towards education or infrastructure or creating a program that retrains coal miners to work in a more progressive energy field…
A
and the point he makes isn’t at all off base – in fact, it is quite informed. The idea that we would be giving our president a reward for the claims and trouble he has made is ludicrous. Correction – it is down right insane because then we are giving a man a reason to be remembered when most of us would rather forget the blasphemous statements and contradictory claims he has made while in office.
5 Billion Dollars Toward Change
In history, in life, and in relationships, walls have progressively become less and less effective for keeping people out. As weapons become more advanced, as people grow more persistent, walls aren’t what they used to be. In fact, since the great wall of China, I cannot think of a wall that has been nearly as effective as it was meant to be.
The best example being the Berlin Wall which people risked their lives and lost their lives climbing over, were given supplies (even if it was nearly impossible), and eventually, the wall was torn down.
Now, personally I have never seen five billion dollars burned – literally or figuratively, but if a border wall is put up and torn down years later – well then is there truly a need for it in the first place?
Or
Is the better option – putting 5 billion into education or renewable resources, where instead of trying to keep people away from “our american jobs” Americans are actually made to be better suited for higher paying jobs. Where poverty goes down, the economy rises, renewable resources get more funding because there are more people pushing to find better solutions.
As a Writer – Not a Politician
Anyone who reads my blog is sure to know where I stand politically. They know that I don’t stand for injustice, that violence against anyone is wrong and that separating children from their parents – no matter the reason, shouldn’t be published on Twitter.
If I am being honest, I would have been fine with having a businessman in office BUT the problem I have, correction, the biggest problem I have with the man in office is the way he communicates, and the messages he shares.
Tweets are not the answer when it comes to reaching the public. Spreading hateful messages against women and minorities aren’t either. But most of all – slander is not truth. so when the president shares that this wall is to keep terrorists out. I personally would love to see the data that proves that immigrants from Mexico are causing more harm than anyone already in this country.
Don’t Hate the Messanger
The expression a colleague told me when talking about (defending) the president, was “don’t hate the messenger”. At the time he was talking about the president, but as he continued I found the message he was sharing to be remarkable in that he was also defending his own beliefs.
Similarly, an argument from a family member whose views rival mine was that, while we don’t like the message, it is remarkable decisive considering the target market Trump has directed his views toward. Personally, however, I cannot accept these responses because in this case, the message, while perfectly and obviously reaching its target market is one that I cannot stand by.
Whether the message is hate, intolerance, racism, sexism or the “lack” of collusion, one thing is certain. The recent Government Shutdown, as it stands, is nothing more than a middle-aged man throwing a tantrum in the grocery store. Why? because his mother didn’t get him the cereal he wanted. And what is worse? The cost of this wall could alternatively be allocated to education, or paying back the men and women who are not being paid because one man thinks that a wall will solve a problem or any of the other problems this country is currently faced with.
The Government Shutdown, as it stands is nothing more than a middle-aged man throwing a tantrum in the grocery store. Why? because his mother didn’t get him the cereal he wanted.
-RM
So for me, this stalemate, this tantrum, and this blame game is one that sends yet another wrong message to the members of our county. Especially the young members of our country.
The Message
The current shutdown sends the message that if you don’t get what you want, hold your breath. If you don’t get what you want, stand your ground. If you don’t get what you want, blame the other side of the argument.
And for me, this is baffling because if I tried this tactic with my mother, with a job, with anyone whom I expected to take me seriously, I know they wouldn’t.
Adulting at its Finest
At the end of the day, my vote is always one that favors the people and the fact that people are currently suffering because one man is not getting what he wants is just wrong.
My friend was right with what he stared on facebook – there are better ways to spend that money. There are better ways to help our fellow man, and personally, I just hope our country works toward a future, and a population, and a president that understands that.
Awkward n' Adulting 
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