Daily Thoughts
I'll try to keep it applicable, but I'll always keep it real.
Public Libraries and Madison Square Gardens
Undeserving
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Uncertainty.
That is the word that I associate with what our nation -- world -- is currently experiencing. Raise your hand if you are worried that, come tomorrow, you will no longer have a job. Raise your hand if you've already lost your job. Raise your hand if you are an essential worker that enters an atmosphere every day, laced with fear and anxiety that your job has the potential to negatively affect those around you.
There is so much anxiety today. So much worry and pressure. At times I find myself feeling underappreciated or undervalued during the pandemic that we are facing.
"Does anyone actually appreciate my sacrifice? I'm not a nurse, but I care for the children of nurses and doctors. Is that not an equal sacrifice? If only they knew how much I was paid. How am I going to afford my bills? Who else is hiring? When will this end?"
The answers are vague and, honestly, without merit.
So what are you doing to aid in the crisis our nation -- world -- is in right now?
Is being a daycare provider enough? I know I am helping people who still have to work -- but I am one in a million. What else can I do?
For those of you that know me well -- you know I have been a teacher for over 4 years. Some students, rode the wave with me. Meaning, they had me from year 1 to year 4. I can't begin to tell you how different I became during that time. But see -- I rode it out. They rode it out. My love and adoration for them was, and is, limitless.
Rewind to last night. A former student, one that is of high admiration and love, reached out to me. She said she wanted to drop a gift off to me on my front porch Following the strict rules of her family's quarantine, I met with her for about 15 minutes, maintaining a 6 feet barrier. The conversation was enough. The longing my heart had to see her, and others, was so strong that I finally realized how impactful this time period in our life is.
I'll leave you with this.
She's 19.
She was given a generous gift -- with one stipulation -- give a portion to someone who is in need.
She gave me the gift in its entirety.
Without a thought. Without Question or Consideration or Hesitation.
I'd like to take credit for her character. However, her parents are two of the most admirable people I have ever met in my life. And now, her grandmother -- Let me just say that the tears were flowing.
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I'll never forget the kindness and love that Lorin Lazzara showed me during this time. And I will forever strive to be a mother like Melissa Lazzara and raise my children the way she has, and continues to raise hers.
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In addition, Skavenger has decided to offer a credit to Lorin for her selflessness and love during these hard times. My little sister has also been someone I look up to, and her affiliation with this cause has only further confirmed her genuine nature.
My challenge to you?
Give/Love/Support.
Whatever you can. Don't ever feel like your contribution may be less. Words have such an empowering and loving affect on others. We are all in this together -- as the iconic High School Musical once stated.
Be safe everyone -- and offer love. What else is there to give?
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Love it or Leave it,
Taylor
"Shh!"
A term we’re all familiar with. Be it from teachers in lecture halls as they share their knowledge. Mothers, accompanied with a pop of their fingers. Even songs for children, sang or heard, teaching the young that there is a time for silence. We know what it means when we’re told to be quiet.
"Speak Up!"
Another phrase that echoes in familiarity. A response to a mumble of insecurity. A retaliation to a whisper that wasn't heard. Or, a command to silence. We know what it means when we are expected to be heard.
"Shh, I can’t hear you!"
Now that... that’s one instruction we haven’t heard. Until now.
I write this knowing that it will be read by only a few, if any. All social media platforms are dominated by the opinions, condolences, outbursts, sorrows, pleadings, and ignorance of the masses. I’d like to say that this post will be different; meaning, somehow ’ll offer a chain of carefully chosen words that will resonate with one of you. Maybe they’ll open a door in your mind that has since remained shut.
Forget a door, I’ll take a window.
A crack.
Here goes nothing. But something.
Does a tree falling in the forest really make a noise if no one is there to hear it?
Black Lives Matter
If you’re saying all lives matter, you’re missing the point.
Black lives matter because they’re the ones being taken. This does not mean that the person behind the hashtag believes your life, or the lives of others, don’t matter. A call to action is a response to an action.
If you can get behind, #savethebees and not the BLM movement, take a moment to consider your closed door.
All Lives Matter
Don’t be so quick to anger. All is, in definition, all-inclusive. -- pertaining to a whole quantity or extent. Some people may say all lives matter, as a way to tread cautiously. They may do this out of fear of retaliation or fear of being misunderstood and insensitive. Is it truly insensitive to care for the lives of human beings as a whole? Or are we insensitive in our lack of consideration for others?
Many people tremble as their son, daughter, spouse, etc. walk out the door wearing a badge that’s all to quickly spat on. All lives matter to them. Black or Thin Blue.
Protests/Riots
It is easy to say what you WOULD do. It’s always been all too easy for us to say that. You may not advocate for burning buildings, looted stores, or the wave of aggressive behavior that paints our streets. However, you may also not understand it.
Take what you hold most dear in your life, and imagine someone taking it away from you so easily. Without thought or without warrant.
Imagine watching it happen over and over again.
Imagine watching people, just like you, suffer at the hand of injustice over, and over, again.
Then consider what fires you’d set yourself.
When anger and fear tear in, rationality often steps out.
“Can you hear us now?”
A kneel was too loud, but not loud enough.
This one comment shifted my view. I let it. Will you?
Love Thy Neighbor
When people turn to faith in moments of darkness, they’re only in search of a light. You don’t have to believe in God to respect the idea of unconditional love. You just have to respect the hope for unconditional love.
Likewise, you must also come to terms with the fact that there are many, who will never offer it.
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Let your Christian friends have faith in the Lord. I can promise you they don’t find it pointless.
Don’t tell them they need to DO something.
They’re doing what they believe is the MOST powerful.
They’re praying. I am.
Cops are guilty.
Blacks are guilty.
Whites are guilty.
One guilty cop doesn’t erase all the honorable ones.
One guilty black person doesn’t erase all the innocent ones.
One racist white person doesn’t erase all the SANE ones.
Stop keeping tally. We’re all losing.
Media/Government
We can all agree that both are filled to the rim with lies, corruption, and manipulation. Their intent is to heard us. Will you be a sheep?
We’re selling out Madison Square Gardens and expecting a public library in return.
Stop demanding voices but silencing the ones that don’t fit your chorus.
Listen. Learn. Teach. And listen again.
The melody might get sweeter.
Everything Matters. Everything.
But right now, it's the lives that are being senselessly and sinfully taken. It's the lives that echo the injustice that Blacks have suffered for as long as our Nation can be remembered. Let those lives matter right now. Please.
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Until Black lives matter, All Lives -- including the life of our Nation -- dangle on a string.
Read it or leave it,
Taylor
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A Teacher's Tea Time
I can’t tell you the last time I actually felt inspired to write something. Other than a story I wrote for my son and… loosely… illustrated. Honestly, this lack of inspiration comes from my equivalent lack of communication with human beings that can accurately recite the alphabet.
Let's insert a flashback to my days of educating high school students -- To be honest, I would feel brain dead after a day of work. I relied on a bottle of wine as an allegory, as I emptied its contents into one of my lipstick stained tumblers. It was empty. So was my mind. You get it.
Questions, like 'what's for dinner', 'how was your day', 'did you see what Trump tweeted', were the last verbal inquiries that I wanted to hear. I had heard enough from the 17-year old – supposedly soon to be considered – ‘adults’, all day long.
Now, I miss them. I miss their brilliant ideocracy.
They could wipe their own ass. And I could kick them out of my classroom if their presence reached a level of complete audacity or annoyance.
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Now, I teach 4-year old boys. 12 of them to be exact.
*I understand you are concerned that your child is engaging in physical altercations on a daily, nay -- hourly basis. He is convinced he is a Power Ranger. If you have any advice as to how to convince him otherwise, please advise.*
In addition to rearing plus-size toddlers who sing, "Imma take my horse to a hoe town road" at every opportunity,I also float from room to room - providing care to children as young as infants to the joyful 12-year old after-schoolers who radiate their hormones both in attitude and bodily odor.
They make teenagers seem highly intelligent.
I bet you are jealous.
Do you ever feel under-appreciated for your intellectual capability? If your answer is, “yes bitch”, then you, more than likely, dwell within a career that stimulates a feeling of lack of personal accomplishment.
I used to speak to teenagers all day; and, I felt mentally stimulated. My standards aren’t high – you feel me?
However, standards… are as such, that they should not only be met, but also carefully evaluated. To be honest with you, I have no idea how much, “Minimum Wage” is these days, but I’m also VERY certain that the word, “minimum” should not be applied to ANY execution of work that I perform -- or am compensated for.
Not only do I feel personally under-accomplished, coupled with a reduction in vocabulary deeming me worthy of accurately expressing my thoughts and emotions; in addition, I feel a hatred for our Community, State, and Nation, when it comes to the level of importance that is placed on education.
Teachers. Are. Paid. Horribly.
Can I also say that we are treated like garbage?
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Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, that your child failed my class – which happens to be a graduation requirement. Your immediate response is to ask me, “What did you do to ensure that my child would pass your class?”
The answer is simple. I taught them.
They either engaged, or they didn’t.
And yet, teachers are literally paid in accordance to how well their students perform on final examinations. Despite the fact that, they – meaning the students – know they could literally fail their exam and still receive a graduation credit for the class.
What an incentive.
So, in other words, what our education system is saying is…
“Try your best; but, don’t worry, even if you fail we will still award you a diploma. Congratulations.”
You know the stories you hear from you children that begin with, “Mom, it’s not my fault I got an F, my teacher doesn’t speak English and I have to learn everything from my textbook on my own …”
First of all, it is your fault. You’re either capable of learning complex subjects, or you aren’t. Period.
I failed College Algebra 3 times. 2 of my professors spoke gibberish -- it's true; however, the other was completely understandable, and yet the result was the same. Fail.
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Second of all, your part-time job at Taco Bell pays more than Community Colleges offer adjunct professors. This is not an exaggeration. I applied for a teaching position at a local Community College to teach ENC 1101, full-time, for the duration of a semester.
1,000 Dollars. That was the pay. For 16 Weeks. SIXTEEN WEEKS.
Oh and by the way, I met all necessary requirements to teach College Algebra. If that ain't broke, than neither am I.
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I know what you're thinking, "If I had a better teacher than I wouldn’t have failed *insert specific subject*
I need you to realize that my empathy has been completely depleted. If you are considered cognitively aware of your ‘gender’ when you are merely 6 years old however, you are incapable of realizing that your education is being compromised and you must choose success and execute at all means necessary, then you are an idiot. Sit next to the smartest kid. Like real close. Like see their paper close.
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Had to pass math somehow.
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Get this -- I spoke to a 19-year-old former student the other day. She vented about her paychecks from working in retail. Her discontent came from the fact that her next paycheck would be significantly less than the others because she did not meet her commission cap.
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“Oh you are paid on commission?” I asked as I briefly felt better for myself …
“Yes”, she said. “But like, if we don’t meet our commission cap we are only paid hourly, which is seriously only 'X.00' per hour.”
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Sis, I came here to spill feelings but not tea. I am still employed, and I am pretty sure my director reads this shit, so just use your imagination when it comes to how much, per hour, you think I make.
Then subtract 5 dollars.
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“Oh…” I said, as I sipped my 3rd glass of wine. “You make more money than me.”
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Her face was stained with sympathy as she reveled in the audacity of such a shocking truth.
She then encouraged me to apply for her retail position. Which, for the record, consists of telling wealthy women that something looks delightful on them while simultaneously securing a vanity-stained commission check.
What. A. Task.
Listen. I just came here to say that I hope to soon publish a book that holds a similar title to,
“Why I Quit Doing What I Loved the Most”.
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It’s teaching… by the way. If you haven’t caught on.
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Until then, I will continue to mold the mind, heart, and character of your child with the hope that my influence supports a positive impact on their life. They are worth it.
But not for much longer.
A bitch has bills. And brains, by the way.
As always...
Read it or Leave it,
Taylor
So, I took a Personality Test
Hi, How are ya?
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I know it has been a while, but cut me some slack. I have been adapting to the full-time working force and let me tell ya, I’m not here for it. All of the days I spent casually roaming about my home in yesterday’s pajamas with 4-day old unwashed hair and naked gremlin face, were vastly under appreciated.
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But here we are; a 40-hour a week (unless they offer overtime – because a bitch is about it) working mom who wears the same red and white polo 5 out of 7 days despite its cleanliness.
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That being said, the wine has not slowed down – if anything it has advanced to full speed ahead acceleration in the hopes of masking the reality in which I reside. However, as I came to terms with the lifestyle that has fully permeated me at a moment’s notice, I have also developed a sense of structure and schedule along the way. As 8:30 PM rolls around, in all of its glory and magnitude, my tiny tot (who is now 17 months old) falls face-slumped-first without reluctance into his AMAZON Prime toddler bed -- surrounded by a multitude of noise makers and questionable stuffed creatures. I am fine with this. I thrive on this. I live for this.
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Instead of my typical ritual of pouring an 18-ounce glass of wine and binge watching a Netflix series for the fourth time, I have decided to re-visit all of my lovely followers in the hopes of sharing an experience that is communicable to all.
On this particular evening, I vented to my roommate on the frustration regarding my current literary desolation. I tend to grumble throughout my posts; (not that many of you seem to mind) alas, these days I am a village idiot without a pitchfork, as I fall deeply in to compliance with the average working American.
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So, as any logical, and somewhat sober, person would do, I decided to take a 30-minute personality test in hopes to offer some sort of clarification as to why I am the way that I am. Here’s what I came up with:
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I. Am. Rare.
Hunny, let me tell you that for the entirety of my life, I have been more than aware that there are very few that are like me. Little did I know that I make up only 3% of the population.
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ENTP.
Extrovert. iNtuitive. Thinking. Perceiving.
This calculation is brought to you by the Myers Briggs Personality Evaluation and you can do it online for free. If you have enough finesse to find the legitimate one that doesn’t cost you any money, heh.
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In a simplified and condensed version (here come the bullet points, I know you missed them) I am:
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Unemotional
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Argumentative
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Witty
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Incalculable
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Manipulative
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Sporadic
Hear me out. Not all of these personality traits are atrocious. After-all, don’t we need people in our life that are unapologetically honest?
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If you find yourself being further inquired as to what my personal traits bring to the table in the game of life, feel free to Google them – because I will only touch on a few.
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First and foremost, Unemotional.
Listen, I (WE – I feel better considering us as a collective whole) do feel things. It just takes a little more effort on your part. Last time I checked, it’s not my responsibility to generate emotion regarding your personal life. Make me feel something. Be a better story teller.
Next, I have zero issue arguing with you.
In fact, and Myers Briggs said it not me, I find joy in the argument. Shit, I will even argue topics that I don’t agree with. It’s like a pixie stick pleasure being poured in my soul. I want to see what you are capable of. Let’s go.
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Additionally, I realize that my wit is almost to a fault.
Not everyone is capable of understanding such highly intellectual sarcasm in a uniformed fashion. Don’t blame yourself. Blame your genetic makeup.
Most importantly, my intentions are not to manipulate.
Here’s the thing. If my charm and disposition can convince you to act accordingly to fulfill my intended who is really at fault here? My dad used to say to me, “You could sell a Hat to a Hat maker”; sounds great. Sounds like an opportunity to excel. Let’s go. Perhaps you should consider watching more Netflix shows that harbor on the weak and unassuming. Sorry, someone had to say it.
And sure, I may be sporadic.
But when you google search the antonym for sporadic you literally find the word, “boring”. If that isn’t a reality check, I’m not sure what is.
Calm down, no matter what personality trait you obtain as a result, there are qualities that you are able to thrive on and find accomplishment in.
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Just know they aren’t the rarest like mine.
Was this too much?
Said no one ever when filling their glass of wine
Read it or Leave it,
Taylor
It’s been a while since we’ve talked but, I would like to start by throwing some facts your way
such as:
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That does not mean that I have slowed the wine train. I literally embody the persona of The Little Engine That Could *EDIT* Drink More Wine Than You.
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I am still unemployed but probably busier than you.
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I tend to go 3 to 4 days without washing my hair and at all costs avoiding mirrors. Which is difficult because my house is littered with them due to my narcissistic and vain ways of the past.
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I have written 3 Posts, all of which went unfinished and unpublished due to their “obscene and offensive nature”.
I have reached the point of exhaustion when it comes to mining for the gold that is readable content with fragments of humor and relevancy; as well as, candor and forthrightness. Everything is offensive to someone. Literally, everything.
The fact that I can’t braid my hair while in the Bahamas because it’s ‘cultural appropriation’, or have a thin frame with a body positive image because it’s insensitive and unrealistic is – to put it bluntly –
effing stupid.
You see, I like to write about topics that are relevant and offer some sort of connection to what is happening in society presently; however, that leaves me with a very limited scope – are you ready?
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Racism
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Guns
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Death
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Abortion
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Miley Cyrus
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Disney Remakes that suck
Well sis, we just aren’t close enough yet to cover the first 2 points.
(My dad said I have to gain a decent following base before I royally piss people off) (( lol that you guys genuinely can’t figure out my ‘political party affiliation’ because I am all over the place).
Next, Death is just like morbid and creepy and what actually happens after you die is literally indefinable, so.
Abortion – been there, done that, lost some of you (I’m crying).
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Miley tweets videos of herself twerking and the country loses their shit. Can we be honest here? She has no ass, and yes, I know that is a STATEMENT coming from me, so just chill, why you mad bro? Evaluate why you truly care. Please.
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Finally, I haven’t seen The Lion King, I do not care if Scar is gay, or if Ariel is Black, or if Harry Styles is the prince. (Okay, but to be honest I really hope he is because, HELLO HARRY.)
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It wasn’t until tonight, as I drained the bottle of wine that I purchased a mere 3 hours ago, that I came up with a note-worthy topic that, not only offers advice, but is also applicable to 100% of my readers.
Perception VS. Reality
A quick Google Search offered me a concrete difference between the two and I think it is worth sharing.
“Perception is directly related to individual's attitudes, beliefs and knowledge whereas reality exists by itself.”
Now, the only issue I have with this simplistic breakdown and contrast of the two subject matters, is the lack of the clarification of the word ‘itself’. You see, perception is clearly identified as being indicative to an individual; however, reality is simply reduced to authentic existence. In my humble, yet correct and indisputable opinion, reality is also directly related to individuals.
Whereas perception is a constantly changing variable, so is reality
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Are you following? Do you feel like you are in a Sociology class at a State College with a professor who more than likely smoked weed before his lecture? If you answered yes, stick around. I will make this crystal clear.
Everyday people form perceptions of what they see, encounter, read, and hear about. More often than not, these details derive from word of mouth or insufficient formulation of words in context.
Hold up, lemme just chill on my SAT vocabulary and give it to you straight.
Just because you THINK something, doesn’t make it true.
I have been told by friends, family members, employers, and strangers that perception is reality; and to be honest with you, there is little that could piss me off more.
5 years ago, (yes my self-recognition is that specific and I am fully aware of when I transformed from a cold-hearted bitch to a reasonably *cough* lady) my response to said ‘haters’ would have been simple and constructed with a five word response –
“I don’t give a … frick” (look at me go, conforming to reader reaction) ((aka my mother)).
“I don’t care” carries this unsurmountable weight with it. When you say you do not care, you essentially raise your freshly polished and manicured middle finger to the world around you while sealing it’s fortitude with a lip stained kiss. However; the truth is, I do care.
Let me be very, very clear here.
If I have said something or done something that has genuinely offended you or caused you pain or turmoil, than I care. If your stance is logical and warranted, than I care. If you approach me with sincerity and lucidity, than I care. My intent is never to purposefully spoil the underpants of those I love or care for, and to be honest, not those of strangers either. I care about underpants, okay? Don’t need you shitting yourself.
That being said, if your perception of my life or my words finds you offended to a point wherein you feel compelled to reach out to me, or others, and share your disdain -- I implore you to consider the idea that my reality is not concretely what you create in your tiny, little, peanut-sized brain. Has it not occurred to you, at least once in your life that you, in fact, do not know absolutely everything? I mean come on man I still struggle with the differentiation of left and right from time to time; so, whatcha doin' thinking you can read minds or some shit like Miss Cleo.
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Recently, my mother shared with me her unfaltering wisdom, as she reoccurringly does when I am in need of an IV drip hydration of insight and contemplation. She explained to me that the communal response of, “I don’t care,” can all too-easily be replaced with a sentiment that is more sufficient. Are you ready? It will change your life:
“I’m comfortable with that.”
Guys, I am not kidding – this has worked for me in every situation – be it civil or hostile. Check it out –
“I think what you said was really insensitive and inappropriate.”
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I’m comfortable with that.
“I disagree with your stance during the meeting today and I feel as though you were being too aggressive.”
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I’m comfortable with that
“I really don’t agree with the outfits you wear and what you post on social media because I feel like it gives people the wrong impression.”
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Lol biiiiiiiiiih – I’m. Comfortable. With. That.
The beauty of this rhetoric is that it is sincere, indisputable, and hard to recant. It’s passive-aggressiveness at its finest. Pure ecstacy.
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As members of the 2019 social media community, we do what I would like to call the ‘undershare-overshare’. We vent about parts of our life that are unsatisfactory, while simultaneously painting a pretty picture, confusing our audience and creating this sense of omnipotence within them.
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So, who is at fault here? Is it ourselves for providing just enough, but not too much, in order to allow our distant, and seemingly insignificant, following to create such perceptions? Or is it our audience that falls short when it comes to apprehending that a snapshot doesn’t create an album?
You liked that literary device implementation didn’t you, okkkurrrr.
I’ll leave you with this.
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People perceived, formulated, implemented, and executed their perceptions when Jesus Christ was sacrificed on the cross for the remission of our sins. And you know what his response was?
“Lord forgive them. They know not what they do.”
So, I forgive you.
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Keep in mind that, your perception is NOT my reality and when you find yourself starting to create a life or situation for someone else, consider what they are creating for you.
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Oh, and if you have such a brilliant imagination, write a book or something – like damn.
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Read it or Leave it,
*I’m comfortable with that*
Taylor
PERCEPTION IS NOT REALITY
29 Truths I Learned in 29 Years
Personally:
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1. Some may say that I am now old. To be fair, close to 3 decades on this earth isn’t necessarily ‘young’; but it’s okay to feel, look, and act that way. Even if people try to tell you otherwise. And if the lines under my eyes ever try to take this delusional youthful feeling away, I’ll save some money for Botox injections – and boast about their ability to rejuvenate and restore.
2. I finally know myself. Like my true and authentic self. This is a bit confusing because, for the majority of my life, I have felt as though I have a firm grasp on who I am and what I believe in; however, I feel different now. Educated. Enlightened. Experienced. It’s refreshing.
3. My 20s have been the best years of my life so far; but that doesn’t mean my 30s will suck.
4. If I don’t wear mascara, I’ll still get carded. Sometimes I do it on purpose for a little Ego Boost. Lol, who am I kidding I don’t leave the house without mascara on; the world is too ugly already and I have no intention of adding to its unattractiveness.
5. I may not be invincible, but holy shit – I feel like I am.
Socially:
6. Knowing every word to the latest Cardi B song actually creates this alter ego that not only makes you more popular but also releases euphoric feelings of being 22 in the back seat of a car with the windows down at 3 AM on your way to waffle house with mis-matched socks on your feet and stripper heals from Charlotte Russe in hand.
7. It is impossible to please everyone – so I have stopped trying.
8. If people are still around, it’s because they want to be. So, make sure they know how much you love them.
9. Honesty is key. Even if it’s brutal and unpopular.
10. Capitalize on every opportunity that this crazy universe of social media gives you. Babe, you’re slackin’ if you don’t.
Physically –
11. Okay chill. I’m not here to complain about my body. Put down your “I Hate Taylor” notebook where you record shit I say that makes you angry.
12. Babies do weeeird things to your body. I know that it’s supposed to be seen as ‘beautiful’ or whatever; but, my bellybutton now looks like a Star Trek ship and I’m just wondering if there’s a way to fix it.
13. I think my prime was when I was 22. If you are around that age and actually reading this post (A. Wow you read I am shocked and pleased. B. Girl do your thing. Do the most. Do too much. Live T. Swift’s dream and just feel 22.) THRIVE.
14. A gym membership happened for the first time in my life.
15. K yea, I still don’t go.
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Mentally:
16. I have more patience. Even with stupidity. I see it as an aliment instead of a choice; because, who would actually choose to be so idiotic.
17. Patience is literally named as a virtue -- so practice it.
18. t’s okay to associate with people who don’t offer you any mental stimulation. They are probably great drinking buddies. Love them for their strengths.
19. Read. Just do it, okay? Your vocabulary is abysmal.
20. YouTube tutorials are an excellent source of making you feel inadequate. Defeat them. I have faith in you. I have built many a simple item after following their instruction. Knowledge is power.
Randoms:
21. There is this thing called a Racoon Dog and it terrorizes villages in the UK. Freaky.
22. Elvis only won 3 Grammys, so don’t feel bad about winning nothing.
23. Judge Judy makes more money than any Television host. Being a bitch has its perks.
24. Being physically appealing can offer you many opportunities, but it will also take so many away.
25. Yea, it’s okay to call yourself attractive – come on I’m not blind.
26. Supposedly more people are hurt annually by drink dispensers than shark attacks – but I’ll take a shot of Doctor’s pepper in the eye over a missing limb any day. Mk. I realize how that sounds, but I’m an adult now so I am leaving it as is and you immature idiots need to calm down. (But lol – it was funny).
27. Ostriches do actually spit on you when they are mad and their breath smells like pizza vomit and horse hay.
28. I still can’t do long division.
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Finally:
29. Just choose happiness. For you, for friends, for strangers. Be authentic and true – but consider your audience.
And one for good Measure:
NOW I'M OLD: If someone is going to say bad things about you, make them a liar.
Thanks for that one, mom.
Read it or Leave it,
Taylor
Parade On, Sister
June has always been my favorite month. It’s summer – God is cooking something that he doesn’t realize is now burnt, nights are longer, beers are cooler, and I spend less money on fake tanning foam. It also happens to be my birth month and I shamelessly and flawlessly revel in this for weeks. Sure, it’s a little rude that Father’s Day falls on ‘Taylor Day’ every few years, but my dear old dad always understands that, while riding in the backseat is considered posh in England and on Gossip Girl, it’s just not a place for me. A diva needs her stage.
Apart from my month-long self-celebratory shenanigans, I also enjoy June for it’s dedication to celebrating the LGBTQ community.
In my last few years of life, I have become annoyingly particular with the words and phrases I use to express how I feel or what my true intention is in conversation. For example, at this point in my tipsy-stooper 5 years ago, I would have avowed in its boldest of claims, “I LOVE GAY PEOPLE”, as rainbows and fairy dust emitted from every ounce of my being. Still not getting a visual? Perhaps this will help.
Tampa Pride Parade 2012 Edition.
Well readers, this rainbow ribbon dancer has a new view –
let’s get to it.
I recently came across the name, Mark Sahady, as it spilled onto my screen staining my newsfeed. Sahady is one of the organizers and leaders of a group of right-wing activists known as
SUPER HAPPY FUN AMERICA
As well as a more exclusive niche: “Resist Marxism”.
Marxism is an idea that I am sure many would claim is easily defined, but of course, they would be wrong.
My Take: Marxism means forced Government control resulting in a nationwide distopian society that claims equality. (It’s Vauge okay back up off me, you gotta take a wide swing at this one). If you are feeling inspired (better known as bored) – grab a bottle of wine and do some reading up on Karl Marxx. Enjoy Peter’s Rabbit Hole and don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Let’s get back to Sahady and his Ego- Trippin Narcissism.
So, this dude has recently organized a “Straight Pride Parade” in Boston to celebrate heterosexuality. If in attendance, I am sure you are sure to see a mass amount of Chubbies Shorts, Sperry Shoes, Ford Tough Cutoffs, and Bud-Light brews. To be honest it sounds like my family reunion. Yee-Haw.
Sahady, hetero man-splained his celebration saying, “Straight people are an oppressed majority. We will fight for the right of straights everywhere to express pride in themselves without fear of judgement and hate.” Guys I’m not making this up, I swear. It’s on the internet okay, like BuzzFeed posted it, it must be 100% accurate. Imagine how hard Sahady must have it. His whole life he has had to wake up feeling like the majority of the world and push through everyday despite his CRIPPLING fear or social rejection. He only gets 365 days a year to feel privileged and accepted – guys he needs this ONE DAY to celebrate his averageness; we have to give it to him.
Needless to say, social media set off its typical, weekly atomic bomb, and people are absolutely losing their shit.
It. Is. Hilarious.
The internet trolls have emerged from below their bridges and begun preparing the traditional Hawaiian feast as they roast their main course. Celebrities, in all their political knowledge, are using their tiny blue verification checkmark in all its grandeur, as a platform to reach the masses. Articles litter the web with this garbage and last time I checked, you can actually get a citation for that; so, where the eff are the members of the Green Initiative when we need them the most.
In turn, Sahady is getting exactly want he wants:
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Attention.
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Validation.
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Exposure.
Why do we constantly give idiots a microphone? He claims that straight people are the MOST highly oppressed individuals in society and honestly, I cannot logically follow that sentiment. However, what I am sure of, is that the worst thing we can do now is actually oppress him and his buddies over at, “Super Happy Fun America”.
Okay and just food for thought, if you want to celebrate your heterosexuality you might consider renaming your affiliation because it’s pretty gay lol.
My point is, and I’ll be it is reiterated, equal rights are equal rights. Let Sahady have his fun. He wants to orchestrate a parade to express his *hurt feelings* as a heterosexual white (I’m assuming he is white -- whatever his name is Mark -- it’s fine just go with it) male in 2019. Texas has a “Car Art” parade. Japan has a “Phallic Shape Fun Festival” parade. California has a parade of Dogs dressed in Lobster costumes. There are literally parades where people trudge around as zombies and it’s INTERNATIONAL.
Poor Sahady, he just wants a purpose in life. To fit in. Geeze, quit oppressing him.
Okay, but does he honestly think he can organize an event that will be even remotely comparable to a Boston Tradition celebrating LGBTQ rights for years that is probably systematized by multiple gay men?
You guys have seen Queer Eye right?
Go off, sis. You’re Cute. *Throws Confetti*
Let me bring you back full circle as I wrap up this pretty-pride-pitty-present.
LGBTQ Pride Parades are not a celebration for having sexual desires for the same sex. Period.
My *gay* friend made this very clear to me when I asked him to attend the Tampa Pride Parade with me years ago. After shattering my hopes with his blatant, “Hell No” response, he said, “Do you ever wake up and think to yourself, ‘I’ll throw a party for my Disco Stick or Hoo-Ha today. I am so proud of it for it’s hard work and diligence to maintain the desire deemed normal in society.’” Just Stop.
Gay Pride Parades aren’t simply celebrations. They are testimonies and merriments for those who have ACTUALLY been oppressed, Marcus. I would have had more respect for you if you just wanted to throw a celebration of "Having Sex With Women". I have a feeling more people would have been on board. But do your thing.
I wish you the best hunny, we are all entitled to celebrate who we are.
I’ll leave you with this.
I don’t love gay people. I just love people. Even if they are idiots.
We don’t have to agree with them, ya know? Nobody has successfully taken that right away from us. Yet.
Oh, and thanks for the entertainment. I used a corkscrew to open a twist top bottle of wine tonight.
Wednesday’s can be rough.
Read it or Leave it,
Taylor
Stifel This
Let me just get this out of the way -- This is not a post debating pro-choice and pro-life. Carry on.
Worms have had their fair share of exposure to this topic and they literally live under rocks. That being said, like many of you, nay - all of you, my newsfeed on all platforms of social media has been dominated by the recent laws considering abortion. I *try* to refrain from posting my political views on public platforms, mainly because I do not believe I am intellectually equipped enough to do so. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone felt this way?
Why is it that the intellectually challenged are always the most inclined to share their stance with the masses? Part of being a moron I suppose. Not only do their posts offer little, to no, evidentiary support, they are so easlity refuted. Holding my tongue is like being on a diet in a bakery that is giving away free slices of fat-girl heaven cake served on china by a shirtless Liam Hemsworth, and STILL ordering a kale crumbcake instead. Is it impossible to pose a logial argument that warrants atleast a 5th grade education to disprove? Let me just move right along because this could get real dark, real fast.
I recently saw a picture of a sign that was being featured at a pro-choice rally. In sloppy handwriting, accompanied by a color scheme that was less than aesthetically appealing, were the words:
I WILL NOT STAY SILENT SO THAT YOU CAN STAY COMFORTABLE.
“Is that what I do?” – This was my first thought. It was unsettling. See, for as long as I can remember, I have had no problem sharing the way that I feel or what I think about any subject – no matter how controversial it may be. As human beings, it is our right to disagree, argue, protest, and stand up for what we believe in. So, why do I remain silent on topics that are of high importance but vocalize my adoration for Chipotle over Moes? I continued to read the word vomit that spewed from the mouths of both liberals and conservatives while, of course, sipping from my warped plastic wine glass. Some posts made me infuriated, some were worth considering, others were directly aligned to what I believe. It was relieving, in a sense, to find that there were other people out there fighting for what I believe in; and yet, I was still perturbed with myself. I kept coming back to the rhetorical question that replayed in my mind obsessively: “Why are you silent?” Here’s what I came up with.
Nobody asked me.
I was very unsatisfied with that answer, but it was honest and frank. So, I settled and decided that I would hold true to my decree of silence. The end.
Lol, just kidding. I just scrolled until I found a sign that asked a question instead of making a statement. It’s a loop-hole, okay I am not proud of it but, I will take the opportunity to capitalize on my self-manipulation.
The sign posed the question:
“Are you tired of your voice being stifled?”
The answer is yes – for so many reasons. Although, perhaps not the reasons you'd assume.
The truth is, I am tired of remaining silent, as a woman, because my firm stance on the matter of abortion is generally unpopular within my gender. I am pro-life and I am not ashamed of it. What I am ashamed of, are the millions of women that would deem me misogynistic for my fervency to protect human life. #MyBodyMyChoice is a trending declaration made my pro-choice supporters as they strive to protect the rights of women to feel unchained and unoppressed. Last time I checked, my brain is a part of my body and what I believe in is most certainly my choice. Don’t come at me with your counter-claim BS stating, “Yea, well the government isn’t trying to pass laws that restrict your brain, only ones that restrict my body... bla bla bla.” I taught English, okay. I can hit you with a rebuttal like a KO-Ninja ass Jackie Chan before you complete your weak and refutable argument. And no, my claim does not include a logical fallacy; there is no straw-man present unless you are shoving the hay down his trousers yourself. FOCUS.
Women fight for the right to be heard, considered, and respected. But when the coin flips to the objectionable side – they will not hear, consider, or respect.
That is my claim. Can you follow it?
Too many people fight for the rights of all based on the stipulation that their opinion is one and the same. Equal respect means equal respect. Since when does everyone think that they can simply change the definition of words to fit their own agenda? They must realize that context is present when talking about the cool weather versus the cool cat at the drive-in; however, it does not apply to words like EQUALITY. Hunny, that word is affiliated with math and math does not play your linguistic games.
To put it blunltly, I don’t have to stand in a crowd to shout my beliefs in order for them to be valid. I validate them. You may disagree with them, as is your right, but what we need to realize is that there is no right or wrong when it comes to matters of opinion.
However, there is a distinct line of right and wrong when it comes to matters of ethics. You can interpret that however you would like. If you find yourself questioning your ethical stance after reading it, perhaps you should consider why.
​
THIS TIME ->
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I won’t stay silent – I stand for the bodies whose choice you want to take away. You want my voice as a woman to be unstifled? Just remember you asked for it. Are you comfortable now?
Read it or Leave it,
Taylor
#TheirBodyNotYourChoice
Catfish Classic
I watch way too many television shows about criminal investigation. At this point, I am actually confident enough in my skill set to the point where I believe I should be hired by an intelligence agency. We all have that one friend that can find someone's profile within a 3 minute time-span despite having little to no information for assistance. That friend, is me.
One summer a girlfriend and I were parading around grocery isles after a long day at the pool, when we saw a Greek God in all of his frat boy glory. He was wearing a red 'sport' jersey with the number 9 on the back. Now, at the time of this spotting, we resembled the creatures from the movie SWAMP THING and that dead girl that gives you 7 days to live until she escapes your television screen; therefore, we did not make contact with said Hercules. That didn't matter.
Within two hours we knew his full name, where he went to school, what sport he played, who his mother was, his shoe size, favorite color, zodiac sign, allergies, and most importantly -- where he would be that very evening.
So we went. He had cute friends too.
Mircales happen when the internet collides with lonely and desperate girls.
I guess I never considered, "if I can find you, you can find me". Such an obvious certainty, you would think.
But no, not me -- who would ever be interested in my online presence?
Then all of the sudden, my reality was rocked like Young Money when he said, “oh that was your girl? I thought I recognized her…”
How is it possible that for the last 6 years someone has been stealing my identity and I had no idea?
I hope you’re ready for this because Alice is about to take you down the rabbit hole of Wonderland filled with sociopaths and ambiguity.
​
It was 8:30 in the morning and I was sipping my colossal sized tumbler of mellow yellow like any normal person would. I started my sunrise ritual of scrolling through pictures that are draped in hyperbole and narcissicm, which all happen to be my own profiles, closed them out, and began to check my email.
I came across a notification on my blog site informing me that I had received a message.
Now listen, at first you may be confused. That’s okay, trust me I was too, but have no fear. I am going to break this down in the simplest of terms for you.
The important bits of the message are as follows:
The anonymous informant proceeded to send me a link to a website of this supposed forum. Okay listen, all of the thoughts you are having most definitely ran through my brain:
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Spam
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Virus
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Stalker
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Run
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Probably porn
The URL literally has the word sociopath in it.
​
I clicked the link anyway.
Let me tell you, it did not disappoint.
I
mmediately I was viewing a wide variety of photos of myself. At first, they were more recent shots that can be found on my Instagram or Facebook. Some pictures were cropped to single me out, others included my friends -- but they were most certainly all me. Along with the photos, there was an EXTENSIVE breakdown of my soical media links, name, age, state I live in, martial status, and more.
The original poster, through many MANY details, broke the news to the other members of this "community" that "Luna" (someone they have known for years) was apparently not who she claimed to be.
The flood gates opened.
The photos that were surfacing were no longer products of simple screen shots. We no longer lived in the present.
Doc hopped in his DeLorean and took me way the hell back to photos and videos that I have no recollection of taking (none the less, posting). Some of them dated as far back as 11 years ago. Videos of me that I hadn't seen in over a decade and personally, had no current access to. 11 years of my life in j.pegs sprawlled across the screen.
Example:
I do not know the exact date this photo was taken, but based on my attempt at a brown bob to disguise my feeble and wrecked bleached hair, I’m gonna go with around 2008.
PRO-TIP for all you future catfishers out there. Consider stealing photos of people that are actually attractive. THIS IS WHAT YOU CHOSE TO STEAL? This.Why.
Let’s get back to the story.
I followed this forum for a few days. It is a public site, so anyone can log on to read the posts or watch the live stream communication between members -- as well as interact with them. There were multiple threads about me with wild theories that questioned my existence. Luna Prey, who had been impersonating me for years, seemed to be some sort of icon of infatuation to the members of the forum. She was the creator and designer of the site that brought all of these people together. They appeared to be both disturbed and simultaneously convinced that I, Taylor, could in fact be their Luna's true identity.
I did mention that the forum’s website title has the word sociopath in it? Lovely.
Also can we desconstruct this alias LUNA PREY.
Luna: darkness, moonlight, midnight.
Prey: hunter, kill, victim.
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DARK HUNTER
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MOONLIGHT MURDERER
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MIDNIGHT BUTCHER
Not freaky. It's fine. I'm fine.
There is so much more that goes into this, and my skills of a “Law and Order Special Victims Unit” detective got me far in a few short days and very late, very very late nights.
You know I love my bullet points so here we go:
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This person used not only photos of me, but also photos of my friends, and claimed their “identities” as well – specifically naming one as her brother deeming him "Michael". He was also a present member of the site.
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There were MULTIPLE websites that I found structured around this creep. GUYS I AM TELLING YOU I have never seen a group of people so obsessed.
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A YouTube channel dedicated to old videos of me labeled “LUNA’S STALKER”
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A LinkedIn Account using my Junior Year Prom Photo (atleast this one was cute sheesh) claiming to be a Web Designer looking for potential clients.
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I found Luna's instagram. 0 posts. 0 followers. Followed 3 people. Me, and two of my friends. (Sorry ladies you are absolutley one of her other personas).
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All material dating back to 2013 -- and steddy mobing throgh 2019.
Stick with me we're wrapping this up.
The CatFish finally found her voice and offered only one comment on the situation. Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Luna:
this bitch
just tried me
Members of the forum explained that she had been, of course, posting photos of me for years and even sending them via private message at times. When she "denied" any photos were her, it was because she "didn't want anyone to know her true identity" -- um yea aka my identity. ​
*Roll Credits*
My take? Hear me out,
Having your photos stolen is probably a normality that occurs unbeknownst to all of us that are happy and secure in the way that we look and portray ourselves via social media.
JUST KNOW there is a strong possibility that your pictures are being used all over the internet by obese men stained with Cheeto Puff and Rocky Road residue with a month's worth of dirt stored securely under their fingernails, as they pound their keyboard in frustration and delight.
You ARE one of many images stored in their victim's Spank Bank, all thanks to ‘Jake from StateFarm’ CatFish Assholes tuning khakis and a red polo into a wet dream.
Let that soak in -- my misery would love some company.
And to all of the users from the forum that are here for validation – I am not Luna Prey.
Luna Prey is not me.
Luna Prey is really 36 year-old Crusty Cristco CatFish Cameron, bulging out the sides of his shart-stained computer chair, leading you all to a URL dungeon of deception and desire.
Allow your fantasy to crumble like a food-court cookie cake.
6 years of your life in perspective. Sheesh.
Where the eff is my wine.
Read it or Leave it,
Taylor
You Can't be Serious...
I'm not Picasso -- to be honest I did dabble in art from time to time when I was in college and desperately seeking a hobby that could assist my fervent need to procrastinate -- but allow me to paint you a picture of a typical week-day evening in my reality.
It is most certainly past 9:00; I find myself wondering how the sun had the audacity to descend beneath the horizon and take with it any sense of energy I had left in me. Where exactly does it go anyway? Aren't there places it stays prominent in it's arrogance for 18 hours a day? Swallowing this elusive and scientific prejudice -- I cleanse my pallet with a glass of 5 dollar Pink Wine that I habitually purchase, in bulk, from Target.
The rug in my living room is littered with the most absurd assortment of baby toys; including your average sharp objects and most certainly an array of choke-potential artifacts.
Nobody is perfect and babies are actual paleontologists.
The light that is cast from one of the many "smart-bulbs" installed by my eccentric and tech-obsessed husband, illuminates the catastrophic mess that is my home. Being the obedient and submissive house-wife that I am, I delicately take my foot, center it in the masses, and slowly (but intentionally), slide the mess just far enough to the left to create the most elegant and functional pathway to the bedroom.
A heavy sigh escapes me as I pour another glass, collapse on the couch, and indulge in all that is mindless and irrelevant on the internet. Recently, my obsessive clicking has resulted in a multitude of blogs. I learned a lot about DIY crafts that almost never turn out to be as easy as they are presented. I found out that there are actually a lot of things you can do with Bacon. I realized that fashion is predominately hideous and entirely too expensive... even with the "discount code omg". And finally, I came to the conclusion that everyone has an opinion they're dying to share.
​
Which leads me to this,
It's all bullshit.
​
Hear me out,
I have yet to find a writer that says what they actually think without the confines or stipulations of reader-reaction restricting them. I get it. You write to appeal to your readers, but if you aren't an altruistic, gluten-free, body positive, vegan... ya ain't it sis.
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The truth is, we all have our moments of being judgmental and cynical. I don't care how many hashtags you have that thank Jesus, save the planet, and empower women; hunny, you gotta know that EVEN YOU gave the finger to the person who cut you off in the TacoBell drive-though or stole your parking spot at Costco.
​
So why the charade? Since when does everyone own the Cloak of Invisibility and use it to mask their dark side. First of all, there's definitely only one of those and I'm pretty sure Harry Potter still has it. Also, pretending not to have a dark side never works in ones favor. Consider the story of Jekyll and Hyde. Dr. Jekyll, a prominent member of society and a prestigious physician, intentionally tries to suppress his darkness and it results in a split of consciousness. He forms the alternative personality of Mr. Hyde in order to release his villainous and evil ways. This shit gets so bad that Jekyll literally poisons himself in order to eliminate Hyde forever. Poison. POISON. What the eff? Have you ever seen someone die of poison? No thank you. Why couldn't he just visit the occasional brothel or bar and let off some steam? Whiskey or Drano ... seems like an obvious choice here.
​
Listen, we are all human -- if that is your current choice of identification. (It's 2019 and I am not about to disrespect you if you identify as an extraterrestrial or a zebra or whatever). There has to be this common understanding that exists among us that sometimes we just suck, right?
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So, if you're out there finding yourself feeling like a terrible person after reading Suzie Sherman's blog about capitalizing on every opportunity you are given because life is just too short to make excuses or sweat the small stuff... I'm here for you.
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Drink another glass when you feel like you shouldn't. Talk shit about the girl who sat next to you at the nail salon because her elbow was clearly on your side of the table. Light a candle if the dishes in the sink have started to fill your home with an unsavory aroma. Tomorrow's another day -- you can "be better" then. Or not.
​
Anyways, I'm here to tell you,
You're not alone.
Not anymore.
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Read it or Leave it,
Taylor
​
When Does a Victim -
Stop Being a Victim?
Relax.
I am sure that the vast majority of you are already triggered at my grotesque question that serves as this Title.
If you haven’t caught on just yet …
I need some time to explain myself.
​
Clearly, a victim – regardless of timeline or associated date – remains a victim indefinitely due to what they experienced and had to undergo; both of which, should never be considered as circumstances that yield an expiration date.
And yet, I find myself curious about the specific stipulations that allow society to deem another as a Victim. When I think of the word Victim, a noun, serving as a representation of someone or something that has suffered: loss, pain, ailment, death, or misfortune at the hand of another – I feel as though everyone has the right to claim the title.
That being said, is a Victim considered a Victim if it is their own hand that yields the dagger resulting in their demise?
I’ll make this easy for you :
The answer is NO.
Wait no, it’s : YES
(It’s okay – I am used to this sort of mind flip-flopping; it occurs on an hourly basis)
Here’s what I’m getting at –
Though it may be more socially suitable to excuse the actions of some, due to the fact that there may or may not be physical/mental/social habits of said person that result in substantial loss --
is this enough to excuse their behavior that results in the demise of other individuals or establishments?
Sorry, but I am not here for that.
At some point, let’s say such point is around the time of self-recognition (23 for women, 32 for men), individuals must be held accountable for their actions. If a person suffers from a mental ailment that could greatly affect the day-to-day operations of a business, they should assume the responsibility to acquire jobs that allow a higher degree of flexibility.
Listen – I’m not saying that applicants should be required to divulge such information to potential employers. As such, I am certainly not suggesting that employers ask about such personal subjects in interviews.
In contrast, I am imploring those that cope with such ailments to see themselves as champions over such mental differences. In order to champion over obstacles, we must first assume responsibility for our actions. We must be honest with ourselves in terms of what we are capable of. We must agree to be honest with ourselves regarding employment opportunities / responsibilities -- while taking a long – hard – look at the stipulations of employment and evaluate whether we are capable of fulfilling such requirements.
Is that not what education prepares us for? To capitalize on what we more equipped for than others – be it from education or experience.
Education is not only indicative to a degree or accreditation – education comes from multiple factors including self-recognition.
As someone who champions over (or at least tries to) mental differentiation (call it what it is: anxiety, O.C.D., depression, bi-polar disorder, ETC.) I encourage you all to be accepting of those who react slightly differently; likewise, that you also uphold the same standards for them, as you do for all others.
We are more than capable. We are more than able. However, only if we are self-aware.
Insensitive? Maybe.
Shocked? Probably not.
Read it or Leave it.
Taylor