If I put on a blue collared shirt with a badge on my chest and pistol on my waist, does that make me a cop? If I put on a Latrell Sprewell jersey and dribble a basketball, does that make me an NBA player? No, it makes me someone who likes to play dress-up. Does Mother Teresa putting on a white robe and a baggy hood make her a saint? Let's find out.
Am I dating my bodega man? He definitely knows more about me than anyone I've recently dated in the last couple of years. Not to say I'm not already an open book anyway, but we've seemed to break through the bodega exchange barrier.
As COVID numbers spike, scientists have identified another potentially fatal risk to America’s healthcare workers and to Black Americans known as the Karen. The Karen belongs to its own unique viral family that surfaced around seventy years ago. Since that time, it has silently multiplied at exponential rates. The Karen is erratic, unpredictable, and favors no particular environment, making it impossible to know where it lies. DNA analysis demonstrates in infected hosts an over-expression of the proteins responsible for hate, ignorance, and moral turpitude. Though scientists are hopeful for the development of a vaccination to eradicate it, they surmise this will not occur any time soon.
While sitting in class, the fluorescent lights overhead beat down on me making me more uncomfortable than I already am, considering I have to use the restroom very badly. Only minutes are left until class is over, but the ticking of the clock incessantly pounds into my head and drives me berserk while reminding me that he, the clock, is in control of time. Sometimes, I can see his menacing hands shaking their fist at me, mocking me, telling me that at any moment they can turn back time just to further irritate me. “Now next week class, we will begin the chapter on Civil War and discuss Bleeding Kansas...” the teacher explains preten- tiously, while my mind is obviously concentrated more on the civil war presently fighting inside of my bladder.
I had just graduated high school. I had just gotten breast implants just before graduation. I was starting college in the fall. I was 18 and damn well old enough. I was in love, you know 18-year old love - but for someone a decade older than me! I thought I was in love. I thought "love" was when you defied your parents. Found THE worst guy my mom could think of (yes, I regret this decision; hindsight is ALWAYS 20/20!). His name was Henri. Yes with an "I" and not a "Y". Long story short I was a naïve 18 year old. But who is truly "mature" by 18 and has it "all together" in life?
I have never heard any discussions or theories so since it has been on my mind I am going to just put it out there.
Have you turned on the news at any point in the last seven years? Is there anything there that’s surprising anymore? Murder? Yawn. Armed robbery? Heard it. Water levels are rising at an astronomical rate and both California and Florida have vanished like bygone Atlantis? (Let’s permit the flooding until the Midwest has been submerged, too.)
Picture the scene: I’m the new kid at work. Whilst I’m yet to hear my name mentioned alongside the word “arsehole” or get an Inbetweeners style “hello my name’s Josh and I’m doing a shit” picture on my back, I know I’m the latest cannon fodder. The only way to survive is with exasperated laughter at my manager’s crap jokes and to keep up this façade at least until I pass my probation. Two weeks in and my now good friend Tara is talking about a guy that she went on a date with that turned out to be a bit of a weirdo. However, despite her squirms of how he kept her there for 3 whole drinks, I’m a bit taken aback when she says, “oh but he’s lovely”. Apparently, I thought that this was my time to make my mark on the team as I quickly interjected with “I’m sorry, but no man is a good man”, to be met with the silence of the entire floor and a burning sensation of eyes in the back of my head worse than a violent bout of chlamydia.
Being an introvert with a personality is hard, and I know this because I am one.
Sorry, but I have to get this off my chest. I hate it when people walk across the street and take their sweet time doing it. This trend only seems to persist in busy parts of big cities. I know that some of you are probably thinking bad of me, but this trend is too much! Really, these people cross the street all the time and hold up cars just because it's their right to cross the street.
There comes a point in a person's life tat their tongue becomes their sword. Some people will walk up to you and try to upset your already fragile day. I should know. I have been through it for what seems like a million times.
I love to watch the clouds slowly drift by, they never seem to be in a hurry like the rest of the world. I guess the clouds are calming to me, it's the one thing in life that's constant. You can always look up into the summer skies and see at least one cloud drifting through the large open space. School, work, parents, the little bit of social life I try to have: it all gets too hectic at times. The amount of work I need to put into actually being a human being seems just dread awful. Is it worth it? Of course the easy answer is "Yes! It's worth it! There's so many things to enjoy in life!" But is there really? Yeah, traveling is awesome and so enjoyable but in this day and age is it even right to say it's possible anymore? Who's to say you won't grow up into some dead end job sitting behind a desk all day and still not having any money left over to afford even a weekend visit to the next town over. My God, I hope that doesn't happen to me. Wait, will it happen to me? With the way my life is going so far, it sure would make a lot of sense. What else is supposed to be so amazing about life itself? Hm, romance? Yeah sure, let me fall in love with "prince charming'' and we can totally ride off into the sunset. Honestly, is that what you people fall for? See, in real life you don't get that. In real life you aren't a princess and he's not your prince charming. No one is, he doesn't exist. In real life, the best you can do is find someone to laugh with and have fun with until you drop dead. No one's going to help you in the hallway when you drop all your books and gaze lovingly in your eyes. They're going to walk around you and act like you don't exist. Reality isn't like in the movies. Reality is a terrible truth and nothing in my "reality" ever turns out to happen in my favor. High School isn't glamourous, no one sings and dances their way to class. They push and shove and if you even look at a girls boyfriend, you're a slut and now her and all of her friends hate you and are most likely stalking your Facebook page to learn your weaknesses.