Gaaahhhh the emotions! And such seriousness

So, I how all of y'all are doing well. Yes? If so, good! I'm happy. If not.... Well. Boo.

This past week has been super stressful. I've been tired and bitchy (mostly in my head, every now and then it came out), and people kept asking me if I was okay. Which I mostly just felt tired, and I would be like, "....Yeah?" Good week. Then last night I was at home and had a conversation with my parents about homosexuality, weather it's right or not. Now, you guys know my stance. I don't care if you are straight, gay, bi, or a dinosaur. I support people in general. If you're a person, I support you. That's just how it is. If I don't like you, it's either cause I actually know you, and I just don't feel comfortable about, you are my Sound for Film prof, or you've done something horrible, like genocide, and you are unrepentant. If you do something on that scale of ...bad-ness. And you don't even care about the pain you've caused? Go screw yourself. Just... go.

Anyways, I normally like talking to my mom about serious stuff. We both listen and talk, and even if we have different view points, I've never felt bad for having a different opinion. Maybe a bit guilty for not feeling the way she does sometimes, but never that I'm a horrible person. My dad on the other hand, is so.... un-wavering in his opinion, in his stance on matters, that he makes me feel like he thinks I'm an idiot. Now, when it's something I want that he makes me feel bad about, it's not that bad. It's just me. For instance, when ever I bring up wanting more piercings, he asks me why I would want more holes in my head. When I mention Starbucks, he asks why anyone in their right mind would want to drink coffee. And let's not mention his opinions on dogs and puppies. He is practically almost racist against dogs. (Can you be racists against dogs?) But to make me feel stupid and idiot like for supporting people? Yes, they are gay. Yes, they are living that life style. And I don't know, maybe "being gay" is a sin. Maybe. I don't know, and I'm not going to sit here and raise my hand and be all "Lord Jesus, cure them gays." That is not loving. I mean, these gay people go through their lives, often being bullied, struggling to accept themselves. And if it is possible for these people to "change" or "get better", then all people like my dad are doing is making it harder to get changed. Just by being the quietly disproving, unwelcoming people.

I don't care about your sexual preference. I don't. I'm a fan of yours no matter what. And maybe it is wrong, I don't know. But I know, people who are strongly opinionated on both sides yell at the other sides alot. And are mean. And spew out hateful words. And I just want everyone to be happy. It makes me sad. It makes my heart hurt a little. I can't stand for something that just wants to tear something else down, no matter what I believe.

These blogs all feel really serious. Maybe this will just be a blog where I get all my serious thoughts out. I don't know. I was going to find pictures, but I really gotta pee, so I'm just going to rap this up now.

Kay. Bye. I hope this makes someone smile.

British TV shows, Boy Meets World, and

 Okay, you guys. I don't know y'all, and you kind of know me. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA not really But I desperately need to ask y'all a question. What is it about British TV shows that are so amazing? I mean Doctor Who. Sherlocke. Miranda. Nevermind the Buzzcocks. These shows are all brilliant and amazing. And I literally watch them over and over again. And then there are the shows from my indigenous land of 'Murrica. (If you don't know what it is, sound it out.) (cough America cough) I do love these shows too. Like Glee, Once Upon a Time (I really love OnceUponATime <3) and older shows, like Boy Meets World.

 I have been watching more Boy Meets World recently than I ever did when it was on TV. I had seen a couple episodes here and there, but not a lot. And then, all of a sudden, BAM. I discover it in college. And, well, hiiiiiidee-ho. Love. It's just so good!

Finally, screencap of something that popped up on my tumblr yesterday. Right after my friend told me I need a boyfriend. Which I thought this settled the matter quite nicely.

Bitterness will leave it's mark or Dedicated to my parents

I am a huge fan of tattoos. I just love them, the idea of them, how it looks on skin. It's lovely. Sadly, I don't have any tattoos myself. But I have decided that my first tattoo will be:

       #thnxfrthmmrs
   #nothingpersonal
You see, I have wanted tattoos all my life, ever since I learned what they were. I mean, whats better than drawrings AND possibly various color that will stay with you all your life? That notion just thrills my little heart. Now, for the past couple years, I had wanted my first tattoo to be a balloon (with red accents) tied to an anchor. This is based off a quote from the book, The House on Mango Street, a brilliant book, which I love. I really really do love this book. Je l'aime beaucoup. (I think that's the proper French. Don't quote me on that.) The quote is, "I am a red balloon. A red balloon tied to an anchor." And I still want a balloon ties to an anchor permenantly inked into my fore arm. And I want the word love on my wrist. And the word dream somewhere. And a dreamcatcher. And a Cheshire Cat. And some of my favorite quotes. Possibly a lil lock over my heart. And birds in flight. But the one I want first is the one that adequetly describes how I feel.

The reason I don't have a tattoo, or a lip ring or a nose ring for that matter, is because of my parents. They have declared that I can get one if I really want. I'll just be completely on my own for paying all bills, and I think my mom said something about me not living in the house any more if I got tattooed. Once I'm out of the house and all on my own, I can do whatever. So, you know, I'm not likely to go out and get something done on my own. I'll respect them. It's just.... I'm bitter about it. I know for sure, one of the first things I'm going to get once I'm on my own, is a tattoo. I remember being little, and my mom saying, "You can't have it now, but if you still want it in a week or two, we can come back and get it. Because if you still want it a week later, you really want it." Now, when I say this wanting has gone on my whole life, I mean, MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE. Okay? It's not just something I saw all my friends do, and I wanted to fit in. It's not something that seems cool, cause all my favorite celebrites have them. Nope. It's about art, and something that lasts forever. And you know what? I sincerely hope that I am that old lady you see around, with tattoos that are wrinkled and sagged. I like the idea of something that never leaves you, in a good way. And when I'm dead and gone, I hope no mortition tries to make up away the things I chose to cover my body with.

Now, I chose my official "whenever I get a tattoo, this'll be my first" for a couple reason. First, the titles are song titles, one from my all time favorite band, and the other from one of my favorite bands. The hashtags are done ironically, cause I'm hipster like that. The main reason is to express my bitterness. I mean, I know my parents said no, because they don't "believe"? in them? I guess? I mean, they must have their reasons. And they've explained their reasons out to me, I know. But I just don't rank those reasons as enough reason to not get one or a dozen. It's something I want. Nothing personal to you, mummy and daddy. It's not a sign of rebellion. Just me wanting to get something beautiful. Something that means something to me. Something I can look at, and it makes me happy, and smile. Plus, it's practical. You don't have to worry about losing it, or someone stealing it. And as I'm not planning on going out, partying it up, and getting a tattoo while drunk, it should be something that I picked out/designed that's special to me. And keep forever. Not alot of stuff (besides diseases) you can say that about.

Ideally, I would want this over my heart, to fully convey how bitter I am. But, I would consider getting it on my hip. Fourty years from now, I will probably be that ornery old lady, who still feels she was wronged, but I'd rather have the tattoos in easy seeing range to be the tattoos of things that make me smile. Not the things that make me bitter. If right now, my mom said, "you go ahead and get just one for now, and then later on you can do whatever", I probably wouldn't get this tattoo at all. It would be a compromise, I guess. I'd get something that makes me smile, probably on my arm. Or even if she said," you know what, go get your lip pierced like I know you want to."
But that's not likely to happen, so I'll just keep my bitterness to myself and the internet till I get it permanently inked into my skin.
P.S. If I ever ended up in a situation where I could get a tattoo without having to pay for anything, like a friend offering to pay, or a buy one get one where a friend was getting one anyways, I would do it. Damn the consequences. It's probably not very likely, and probably won't happen, but I would do it.

The myth of being both happy and gay.

I am straight. A female attracted to males. Though I wouldn't mind being pansexual (if that's the one where you are attracted to someone based on their personality.) And if anything, I would be bi, not gay. But, sometimes it feels like the majority of straight people are against gay anything. And I don't get it.

I am against people hating on other people. Something right there I'm against. I'm against suicide. And I'm against low self esteem (which is ironic, as I don't always have the best self esteem.) And I don't see how any one who is against any of these things could be against gay people. They're people. And even if you think being gay is wrong, or a sin, or whatever, it's still not right. It's not right to bully them, not right to make them feel unloved. Not right to make them feel like they're not worth something to someone. Ever. If nothing else, they will have this person right here to support and love them, but that might not stop them from self harming, or wanting to die.

I know recently, it's not quite as bad to be gay. With New York legalizing gay marriage, Glee (and Klaine! So cute!), and Ellen and the guy who plays Barney on How I Met Your Mother (can't remember his name. I normally do know it.) It seems like pop culture is supporting being gay. Which I am all for. The it gets better, and the straight against hate messages are going out. It's all very exciting. But sometimes I see people being all mean and saying being gay is horrible, and these people should go kill themselves.

For anyone who says that someone should go kill themselves, or that someone is worthless. You are a fucking douchleberry, and need to shut the hell up.

I am not for or against gays, but I am for people. And gay is just another type of person. There's more I would like to say, but class is going to be starting soon.

To blogwhore or not to blogwhore

I'm on tumblr. And I see stuff, like, "Reblog this so many times and I'll promote you!" Or, "Click this link, and instantly get followers!" Or, "Reblog if you follow back!" Which, I'm not against getting more followers. Or even teamwork in getting followers. I just.... don't want to do that, I guess?

I'd rather just have my blog. And just do it well. And if I have 2 followers. Okay. And if I have 2 thousand followers, so be it. I don't really want followers who just follow me because they want more followers. Does that make sense? I mean, I don't mind followers. I like seeing people follow me. I'm just not going to go out, and post links saying look at me! Follow me! Do you want more of this on your dashboard? Half the time, I don't even have a consistant theme. I like what I like. I share what makes me happy.

After all, if I really wanted tons of followers, I'd just tell my mum about my blogs. Or post them to my Facebook all the time. And announce on everything else I'm on, everytime I shared something I think is epic.

Adorable Cats and Hipster River

    Two blogs in one day. For all the no ones out there keeping track. Earlier, I had a whole procrastination blog. Which, you know, can be cool. I guess. But I don't really feel like that's a legit post, you know? Though sometimes it feels like the internet is just sitting on top of my computer, being like the cat in this picture.                              This one. Right here. v   v  v  v v v  v  v

 Aren't kitties so adorable? Awww. I post pictures of kitties to my sisters wall all the time. Actually, I went to my sister's wall, (to post moar piktures), and I had pretty much filled up her entire wall. It was beautiful.

I am so easily amused. Especially the more tired I get. It's sad, actually. I'll just be sitting there, scrolling down through whatever site I'm on (normally tumblr if I'm at home, DeviantArt or Pintrest if I'm at school. Tumblr's blocked at school for some lame reason. Just cause naked people sometimes come up. Psh.) So, I'll be sitting there. Sometimes I'll just be by myself. And I'll see something, and just start laughing. And then I get weird looks. Even when I'm alone, I feel like my teddy bears are looking at me funny. :/ Who are they to judge me? It's fucking hilarious!

Maybe I have a problem. It's probably already been diagnosed and categorized somewhere off in the interwebs. I'll just pretend like it's completely normal. My teddy bears will just have to get over themselves.

All the pictures were found on Pintrest. Except the River Song one (Hipster + Doctor Who= Greatness). I found that on Tumblr, I think. Pretty sure.

Procrastination

Right now, I really should be working on my homework for Computer Concepts and Programing, which is due today. But it's difficult! And I have over 4 hours to figure it out. And maybe get people to help me. Surely someone around me is good at math. I thought I knew how to convert from decimal to octal. Funny story.... I apparently don't. So I'm going to read the notes from class and try to figure it out.

I am not a math or computer science major, in case you haven't figured that out. Anyhoo, this semester is lots busier than last semester. I have 17 credit hours, lots of projects, not to mention trying to sleep and spend time with people. You know, the usual college student problems. Plus I'm a commuter. Which means there are times when I'm on campus till late, and instead of struggling back to my dorm, I have to get in my car and drive home. I know I probably shouldn't complain about this, but I wanna live on campus!! :( Oh well. Maybe someday.

I really do need to work on that homework. Alright. Off to be a good student.