This morning I checked Facebook. Then I went to work. Then I checked Facebook again. I spent the first hour of the day working and checking Facebook until I read something that made my heart twist. See, I have several Facebook friends who are pregnant and who got pregnant around the same time I did. However, their babies are healthy. I had a miscarriage. I would have found out whether my baby was a boy or girl this month...and that means that THEY are all finding out and excitedly posting their news to Facebook. Meanwhile, I'm torturing myself by obsessively reading their updates and looking at pictures of their cute bellies and the sweet baby socks and clothes and books that they're receiving as gifts. I am not even close to being over my miscarriage. I feel like a mother without a child. I am jealous, angry, empty, and sad every time I see one of those updates. It's hard, REALLY hard to be happy for people who are getting what I thought I'd have. I lost it, seemingly at random, seemingly by chance, seemingly for no reason, and arbitrarily they didn't. But I digress. Because the point is that after I saw this girl's update and felt that familiar sinking, empty, drowning-in-a-well-filled-with-my-own-emotions-blaaaaah feeling, I got PISSED.
I'm mad! WHY am I doing this to myself?! Is this REALLY how I want to feel?? No one is forcing me to look! I sat there, staring at the computer screen for at least five minutes, realizing that I am torturing myself. I have a wound that's trying to heal, and I keep ripping it open and examining it. What is wrong with me? I'm not a jealous person. I'm not a person who doesn't rejoice in the happiness of others. I'm not a wallower. In the past I've always been able to muster up enthusiasm and joy for people who have what I want.
See, without Facebook, I wouldn't even know that these friends are all having girls so far. They could tell me or I could find out on a better timeline, one where I don't have to crumple into a pathetic pile of sadness in secret and they don't have to feel guilty for sharing their good news. I actually am not sure if they all even know, but I don't want them to feel bad when they post a picture of an ultrasound.
I've realized that being a part of every single thing that every other person does is a responsibility. If we're going to have that much knowledge about the lives of one another, if we're going to give ourselves so much freaking ability to be connected at all times, then we have to learn not to abuse it. Torturing ourselves with Facebook is NOT responsible behavior. It's insane. It's kind of sick. I do it all the time. It's not just the miscarriage, either. I can't count how many times I've felt awful after comparing myself to other people, particularly other people I hardly even know. And when was the last time I argued for hours on end over some stupid political opinion in real life? Facebook is the perfect forum for that, unfortunately. I get to watch some awesome things happen in the lives of my friends, but I also get to feel just sick to death because of all the negativity. It's negativity I force upon myself.
Not everyone needs to know what I'm thinking! I don't need to know what everyone else is thinking, either. I don't need to hurt over someone else's baby when I'm not even finished hurting over mine. Seeing other women's pregnancies work out so up close and personally makes me forget the peace that God has given me after hours of prayer and thought. It makes me forget that sometimes I need to focus on my own personal tragedies before I can heal enough to face the world. After my miscarriage, I shut myself into my apartment and took a week of alone time, some of it with my husband, some without. It felt good to just deal on my own. But I wasn't ever really alone with my grief, because I was on Facebook. Because even when I was weighed down with my own suffering, I was still involved, however indirectly, in the affairs of other people. Their lives just went on while mine was utterly halted for a while and watching that makes a cynic out of anyone. I have enough stress in my life without everyone else's on top of it.
This post was originally supposed to be a lighthearted humor piece about how much Facebook sucks. I even had ms paint up to draw some hilarious pictures of myself curled up in a deprived ball on the floor. I probably should have written this after the anger subsided and I may even go back and delete it because I'm not sure I'm ready to share yet, but I've gotta say, it feels good. I cannot believe it took me this long to figure this crap out.
So here's my plan to start getting my Facebook habit under control: I'm not going to be on Facebook until Saturday at the earliest, longer if I can handle it, just to see how it feels. Then I'll have to come up with some sort of battle plan, because this sucks and I'm not letting a stupid website control my emotions anymore. Who knows? Maybe I'll even be able to come to terms with my feelings on my own without interference, however indirect or unintentional, from anyone else.
Showing posts with label I might actually have a point. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I might actually have a point. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Girls, please live by these words
Lemme tell you a 'lil somthin' somthin'...pretty lasts. Hot is an expendable commodity.
GIRLS. BE PRETTY.
I just had to share this because it's currently the best video on youtube.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
A post about how much high school sucks and how important it is to be a decent human being.
When I was in high school, I used to be really, incredibly, insanely, and PAINFULLY jealous of other girls. I was insecure and more than a little awkward. I was a total dork but pretended to be into school dances and shopping for expensive dresses and gossiping.
And you know what? I failed. I failed hard. I failed so hard, in fact, that I became absolutely silent at school. Seriously, if one of these girls who I wanted to be friends with so much as talked to me, my brain would freeze up and I would try so so hard to think of anything to say. Anything at all.
Hi, self. It's me again. Say something. Anything. Say that you agree. Or like her shoes. Or...I don't know. Say "hi"? That's acceptable, right?
And then I would try to say "hi" and it would come out as a nervous squeak and I would feel shame for the rest of the day.
I eventually became friends with all the boys because, well, boys are chill. They play Halo. They high five. They don't feel the need to bash every person not within hearing range. Being friends with boys in high school, though, means that every single girl is going to call you names. Mean names, horrible names, and sometimes they're going to blame you for things you didn't do just because blaming you is easier than facing problems themselves. And sometimes they're going to do that in the middle of lunch in front of everyone and it's going to be accompanied by swear words and you're going to cry and get mascara all over your face. And then you'll go sit in your car and cry some more for a few hours and wonder what's wrong with you and then you'll go back inside and pretend like nothing happened, because that's what you do when you're in high school. And believe me, I feel for you. It's a complex, messed up system.
High school was this miserable time for me. But I learned some freaking important lessons. Such as...
Sometimes, life is a five year old's birthday party.
What do I mean by that? Well, some days you're the pinata and some days you're the blind little kid dangerously swinging a baseball bat. In high school, I think I focused a bit too much on my pinata days. I was angry, SO angry at the people who gossiped about me, hurt me, pretended to be friends with me, humiliated me in front of classmates, ignored me when I was standing right there, and called me a slut every five seconds. So angry, in fact, that I still would cry about it well after graduation.
Funny thing though. It's hard to be angry about that sort of thing when you understand something. I was the punching bag a lot in school, but I'm often the blindfolded kid too. Sometimes, people are blind. They hurt you and they hurt you a lot but they don't understand what they are doing. They learn from hurting you. But, you have to remember, you learned from hurting someone too at some point in your life. We don't always get to be the victim, sometimes we're the bad guy and honestly, that's actually good for us. A decent person will learn from it.
Those people are NOT worth your tears.
I spent a few really creepy hours on Facebook recently stalking some of the girls who I used to be so insanely jealous of. You know how I felt? I didn't feel better than them, or equal to them, or included or vindicated or anything. I just felt free. I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing. I've embraced the Star Wars loving, video game playing, pokemon obsessed girl that I am and that is beyond awesome, you guys.
When you're doing what you love to do, it's hard to be jealous of anyone, even the people you enjoy and respect. It isn't about feeling superior. It isn't about feeling like you're the bigger person. It's just about being so happy with yourself that they can't do anything about it anymore. They just become unworthy of your tears, not because they are bad or fail-tastic people, but just because it isn't worth your time to cry about it anymore.
It is so so so so important to be kind.
I've grown up and I'm not going to give a verbal butt-kicking to the next mean girl I encounter from those days. But I know how it feels. I know what it's like to dwell on painful, hurtful memories. I get the anger, the resentment, the depression. I understand what it's like to feel like there is something immensely wrong with you. I know that there are certain memories that just won't unstick themselves from you and that you can't wish away no matter how hard you try. That's why I never ever EVER want to make someone feel that way.
Promise yourself right now that you will never be that person. Don't make someone feel worthless. Don't let a lonely kid fall through the cracks. Be everyone's friend. Be everyone's support. You don't know what someone's life is like in reality. Remember that indifference can be just as painful as outright cruelty to someone who feels alone.
Don't let anyone look back at you and see only what you did to them. Don't even let them look back and remember you as the person who stood by and watched.
In the words of Jesse Jackson, never look down on anybody unless you're helping him up.
And you know what? I failed. I failed hard. I failed so hard, in fact, that I became absolutely silent at school. Seriously, if one of these girls who I wanted to be friends with so much as talked to me, my brain would freeze up and I would try so so hard to think of anything to say. Anything at all.
Hi, self. It's me again. Say something. Anything. Say that you agree. Or like her shoes. Or...I don't know. Say "hi"? That's acceptable, right?
And then I would try to say "hi" and it would come out as a nervous squeak and I would feel shame for the rest of the day.
I eventually became friends with all the boys because, well, boys are chill. They play Halo. They high five. They don't feel the need to bash every person not within hearing range. Being friends with boys in high school, though, means that every single girl is going to call you names. Mean names, horrible names, and sometimes they're going to blame you for things you didn't do just because blaming you is easier than facing problems themselves. And sometimes they're going to do that in the middle of lunch in front of everyone and it's going to be accompanied by swear words and you're going to cry and get mascara all over your face. And then you'll go sit in your car and cry some more for a few hours and wonder what's wrong with you and then you'll go back inside and pretend like nothing happened, because that's what you do when you're in high school. And believe me, I feel for you. It's a complex, messed up system.
High school was this miserable time for me. But I learned some freaking important lessons. Such as...
Sometimes, life is a five year old's birthday party.
What do I mean by that? Well, some days you're the pinata and some days you're the blind little kid dangerously swinging a baseball bat. In high school, I think I focused a bit too much on my pinata days. I was angry, SO angry at the people who gossiped about me, hurt me, pretended to be friends with me, humiliated me in front of classmates, ignored me when I was standing right there, and called me a slut every five seconds. So angry, in fact, that I still would cry about it well after graduation.
Funny thing though. It's hard to be angry about that sort of thing when you understand something. I was the punching bag a lot in school, but I'm often the blindfolded kid too. Sometimes, people are blind. They hurt you and they hurt you a lot but they don't understand what they are doing. They learn from hurting you. But, you have to remember, you learned from hurting someone too at some point in your life. We don't always get to be the victim, sometimes we're the bad guy and honestly, that's actually good for us. A decent person will learn from it.
Those people are NOT worth your tears.
I spent a few really creepy hours on Facebook recently stalking some of the girls who I used to be so insanely jealous of. You know how I felt? I didn't feel better than them, or equal to them, or included or vindicated or anything. I just felt free. I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing. I've embraced the Star Wars loving, video game playing, pokemon obsessed girl that I am and that is beyond awesome, you guys.
When you're doing what you love to do, it's hard to be jealous of anyone, even the people you enjoy and respect. It isn't about feeling superior. It isn't about feeling like you're the bigger person. It's just about being so happy with yourself that they can't do anything about it anymore. They just become unworthy of your tears, not because they are bad or fail-tastic people, but just because it isn't worth your time to cry about it anymore.
It is so so so so important to be kind.
I've grown up and I'm not going to give a verbal butt-kicking to the next mean girl I encounter from those days. But I know how it feels. I know what it's like to dwell on painful, hurtful memories. I get the anger, the resentment, the depression. I understand what it's like to feel like there is something immensely wrong with you. I know that there are certain memories that just won't unstick themselves from you and that you can't wish away no matter how hard you try. That's why I never ever EVER want to make someone feel that way.
Promise yourself right now that you will never be that person. Don't make someone feel worthless. Don't let a lonely kid fall through the cracks. Be everyone's friend. Be everyone's support. You don't know what someone's life is like in reality. Remember that indifference can be just as painful as outright cruelty to someone who feels alone.
Don't let anyone look back at you and see only what you did to them. Don't even let them look back and remember you as the person who stood by and watched.
In the words of Jesse Jackson, never look down on anybody unless you're helping him up.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Anonymous is back!
I received this LOVELY comment on this post (which I find strangely ironic. It's like anonymous is going for the gold!)
"dude, f*** this blog. I Mean Everything about This blog sucks Hardcore And Nobody, no One, Likes you."
First of all, why is grammar such a big problem for this person? It's getting predictable. I don't know who Nobody is, or who One is, but I'm assuming they are people because I don't know why else they would be capitalized. Unless this comment is a cleverly worded code. It's like a game! An insert-your-own-punctuation-marks-game!
"...dude, f*** this blog. I. Mean. Everything about. This blog sucks. Hardcore. And. Nobody, no. One,. Likes you."
When you read it that way, it's much nicer.
Secondly, people like me. My mom likes me. My mom loves me. So take that, anonymous. I think we can both agree that you stand CORRECTED, my friend.
I'm assuming this is your response to my offer to hug you. I'm sorry. Maybe you don't like close personal contact. I can see that we're going to continue to have problems, you and I. In the future, please send all complaints to my house handwritten on 4x6 colored cards. Fuchsia is preferable, but not required. If you can name all the countries in Africa, you get bonus points. Can I borrow your pen? I left mine in the car.
I love you, anonymous. I love you so much.
"dude, f*** this blog. I Mean Everything about This blog sucks Hardcore And Nobody, no One, Likes you."
First of all, why is grammar such a big problem for this person? It's getting predictable. I don't know who Nobody is, or who One is, but I'm assuming they are people because I don't know why else they would be capitalized. Unless this comment is a cleverly worded code. It's like a game! An insert-your-own-punctuation-marks-game!
"...dude, f*** this blog. I. Mean. Everything about. This blog sucks. Hardcore. And. Nobody, no. One,. Likes you."
When you read it that way, it's much nicer.
Secondly, people like me. My mom likes me. My mom loves me. So take that, anonymous. I think we can both agree that you stand CORRECTED, my friend.
I'm assuming this is your response to my offer to hug you. I'm sorry. Maybe you don't like close personal contact. I can see that we're going to continue to have problems, you and I. In the future, please send all complaints to my house handwritten on 4x6 colored cards. Fuchsia is preferable, but not required. If you can name all the countries in Africa, you get bonus points. Can I borrow your pen? I left mine in the car.
I love you, anonymous. I love you so much.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Entries from my journal part deux
I've posted some of my journal on this blog before. I wonder why I did that. However I clearly do not learn from past experience, because here is some more.
June 2, 2010 (At least I think that's the date, but I wrote that last night was May 31st, so I really have no idea. Obviously)
-I have a theory about people who actively seek me out. People are really looking for the other Megan Prietzel. There must be another one. She's reasonable and normal and knows how to do laundry. She also is part of a super team that fights crime and can shoot fireballs from her eyebrows. (I like to think my alter ego has skills.) Anyway, they think they are going to get an awesome super person but instead they're all, "Oh dang. CRAZY." and I'm all, "Let's go roll down a hill in a cardboard tube." That's probably why I both do and do not have friends.
June 22, 2010
-I went to Lake Powell for my senior trip. I felt just like Indiana Jones, only less masculine. And coordinated.
June 23, 2010 [Hi, it's present day Megan. I don't know what the following is about. I think I was thinking about how to tell if someone is a zombie. Just...I don't know.]
-I'm not saying you're a zombie. I'm implying it. There's a difference.
-You could be a zombie. Let me check your pulse. If you try to eat my brain, you're probably a zombie.
-Or you just like brains. That's cool. I don't judge.
-But I'd like to point out that I would judge if I were paid to. I'd be like Simon Cowell only without an accent and a black shirt. So, in other words, lame.
-But still cooler than a zombie.
-Who am I kidding. Not cooler at all.
June 24, 2010
-I try not to be rude but then I'm all drunk and stuff.
-I meant to write "blunt" and accidentally wrote "drunk." That tells you a little bit about me.
July 2, 2010
-Jordan just told me that my status updates me seem weird. If status updates are the only things making me seem weird, I think I'm doing pretty well.
-You know, I find that mispronunciation is really the only way to go.
-I would like to inform the authorities about you but then the police would arrest you and I couldn't so openly stare.
July 4, 2010
-The housing market is pretty bad, so I think I should live in a house made out of legos and rubber cement.
July 30, 2010
-99% of what I write is junk. 1% is actually probably useful. Not that I've ever written about anything useful exactly, but I'm sure that something, somewhere could be misconstrued as helpful. It would probably be disguised as a unicorn or something though.
-I think the world would be a better place if I were in charge of it. Or at least parts of it. I hear Switzerland is doing pretty well without me.
-I just don't want to live in a world that requires I wear pants in public.
October 22, 2010
-Some mail came for you today. It looked fairly important, so I threw it away.
March 15, 2011
-There just isn't much dialogue written out for real life. And the stuff there is sucks.
-I think that if you're enough of a nerd, people will just love you.
Hello! It's Megan again. To answer some questions that haven't been asked but that I can guess will come in emails after this post, there IS a reason why I write and why I write like this. These little thoughts and snippets of internal conversations lead to things. Bigger things. A lot of my journal has just been skipped in this post because so many of the entries turned into full posts or articles and since you've already read those, why write them here again? So I guess this is a behind-the-scenes look for you. I'm sorry that there is nothing more exciting to report. I know that a lot of you are writers and I suggest that you guys get yourself a cute and whimsical journal (mine is made up of a bunch of different illustrated pages) and jot down every weird thought that comes to your head. Because we all have them and anyone who says they don't is a liar.
So there are some glimpses into my crazy brain. If you're still confused and don't understand any of it, then I'll just leave you with my last entry, which is just this: It just feels so good to write for no specific reason.
June 2, 2010 (At least I think that's the date, but I wrote that last night was May 31st, so I really have no idea. Obviously)
-I have a theory about people who actively seek me out. People are really looking for the other Megan Prietzel. There must be another one. She's reasonable and normal and knows how to do laundry. She also is part of a super team that fights crime and can shoot fireballs from her eyebrows. (I like to think my alter ego has skills.) Anyway, they think they are going to get an awesome super person but instead they're all, "Oh dang. CRAZY." and I'm all, "Let's go roll down a hill in a cardboard tube." That's probably why I both do and do not have friends.
June 22, 2010
-I went to Lake Powell for my senior trip. I felt just like Indiana Jones, only less masculine. And coordinated.
June 23, 2010 [Hi, it's present day Megan. I don't know what the following is about. I think I was thinking about how to tell if someone is a zombie. Just...I don't know.]
-I'm not saying you're a zombie. I'm implying it. There's a difference.
-You could be a zombie. Let me check your pulse. If you try to eat my brain, you're probably a zombie.
-Or you just like brains. That's cool. I don't judge.
-But I'd like to point out that I would judge if I were paid to. I'd be like Simon Cowell only without an accent and a black shirt. So, in other words, lame.
-But still cooler than a zombie.
-Who am I kidding. Not cooler at all.
June 24, 2010
-I try not to be rude but then I'm all drunk and stuff.
-I meant to write "blunt" and accidentally wrote "drunk." That tells you a little bit about me.
July 2, 2010
-Jordan just told me that my status updates me seem weird. If status updates are the only things making me seem weird, I think I'm doing pretty well.
-You know, I find that mispronunciation is really the only way to go.
-I would like to inform the authorities about you but then the police would arrest you and I couldn't so openly stare.
July 4, 2010
-The housing market is pretty bad, so I think I should live in a house made out of legos and rubber cement.
July 30, 2010
-99% of what I write is junk. 1% is actually probably useful. Not that I've ever written about anything useful exactly, but I'm sure that something, somewhere could be misconstrued as helpful. It would probably be disguised as a unicorn or something though.
-I think the world would be a better place if I were in charge of it. Or at least parts of it. I hear Switzerland is doing pretty well without me.
-I just don't want to live in a world that requires I wear pants in public.
October 22, 2010
-Some mail came for you today. It looked fairly important, so I threw it away.
March 15, 2011
-There just isn't much dialogue written out for real life. And the stuff there is sucks.
-I think that if you're enough of a nerd, people will just love you.
Hello! It's Megan again. To answer some questions that haven't been asked but that I can guess will come in emails after this post, there IS a reason why I write and why I write like this. These little thoughts and snippets of internal conversations lead to things. Bigger things. A lot of my journal has just been skipped in this post because so many of the entries turned into full posts or articles and since you've already read those, why write them here again? So I guess this is a behind-the-scenes look for you. I'm sorry that there is nothing more exciting to report. I know that a lot of you are writers and I suggest that you guys get yourself a cute and whimsical journal (mine is made up of a bunch of different illustrated pages) and jot down every weird thought that comes to your head. Because we all have them and anyone who says they don't is a liar.
So there are some glimpses into my crazy brain. If you're still confused and don't understand any of it, then I'll just leave you with my last entry, which is just this: It just feels so good to write for no specific reason.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
This is too long to tweet so I'm posting it here.
Pretend that you have a dog. Let's say your sweet, kind grandma gave it to you because she is the most wonderful grandma ever. Your dog is the best dog in the world: it loves you, comforts you when you're sad, entertains you, and is your best friend. Luckily for you, this dog will also live forever and will never abandon you and will only get better with age as you create fond memories together.
Now pretend that one day you come home from work to find that your grandma has taken your dog away. Also, it turns out the dog was a robot that never loved you and spent its entire time with you collecting data about you so that your grandma could market stupid toys that you and your friends would buy and its made her incredibly rich and not only is your dog gone, but grandma also left a really loud, really smelly, really stupid flock of squawking parrots in your living room along with a note informing you that she is, in fact, the best grandma ever, a genius among matriarchs, THE UNDISPUTED GRANDMOTHER OF THE CENTURY. And you try so desperately to ignore the dumb birds while you look at pictures of adventures with your old dog but you can't and what does it matter anyway because all your memories are ruined and your family and friends try to tell you that it's okay but it isn't because ALL THIS TIME THE FORCE WAS MADE OF STUPID, TINY, IDIOTIC LIVING ORGANISMS THAT INHABITED YOUR BODY LIKE A BUNCH OF PSYCHIC, PARASITIC TAPEWORMS OR SOMETHING.
And that's why I hate Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace so much.
Now pretend that one day you come home from work to find that your grandma has taken your dog away. Also, it turns out the dog was a robot that never loved you and spent its entire time with you collecting data about you so that your grandma could market stupid toys that you and your friends would buy and its made her incredibly rich and not only is your dog gone, but grandma also left a really loud, really smelly, really stupid flock of squawking parrots in your living room along with a note informing you that she is, in fact, the best grandma ever, a genius among matriarchs, THE UNDISPUTED GRANDMOTHER OF THE CENTURY. And you try so desperately to ignore the dumb birds while you look at pictures of adventures with your old dog but you can't and what does it matter anyway because all your memories are ruined and your family and friends try to tell you that it's okay but it isn't because ALL THIS TIME THE FORCE WAS MADE OF STUPID, TINY, IDIOTIC LIVING ORGANISMS THAT INHABITED YOUR BODY LIKE A BUNCH OF PSYCHIC, PARASITIC TAPEWORMS OR SOMETHING.
And that's why I hate Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace so much.
Monday, December 6, 2010
...Should I be upset?
I received this comment from "anonymous" today (I edited the bad word. WHOOO for pretension!):
"F*** you and everyone who comments on this. Your blogs are pretentious and, although it is clear you are joking, it is not funny in the least. You have a very immature sense of humor and I despise you more than anybody could despise anything. Ever."
My initial response was disbelief, as I wondered why, in the same sentence, anonymous insults both me and him/herself...cause...you know...he/she commented on "this."
Then I laughed.
Anonymous, do you really despise me more than anything ever? Wanna know things that I despise?
1. Genocide
2. Domestic abuse
3. Being chased by geese
4. Murder
5. Road maps
6. Any maps
7. Murder again
This clearly calls for another award.
Anonymous, don't feel bad. I made one for you too:
I will literally give you that hug. No, really. I'm being serious. Why don't you email me and we'll talk it out, huh? Then there can be rainbows and butterflies and we can all learn to respect each other and enjoy each other and have enough decency not to despise/insult total strangers just because some people don't like unicorns jokes and others do.
Differences, kids. They make us special.
P.S. Just so we're all clear, insulting me is just fine. But your comments will be marked as spam and I might write an immature and pretentious post about it. "But Megan, FREE SPEECH! You just don't want to deal with anyone who disagrees!"
Um, duh. This is MY blog. Free speech doesn't apply so much. Why would I let anyone say icky things about me and my readers? It's insulting to the very concepts of acceptance and free speech. If you want to disagree with me respectfully, knock yourself out. Otherwise, let me reiterate a point: IT'S MY BLOG, I DO WHAT I WANT! HAHAHA!
"F*** you and everyone who comments on this. Your blogs are pretentious and, although it is clear you are joking, it is not funny in the least. You have a very immature sense of humor and I despise you more than anybody could despise anything. Ever."
My initial response was disbelief, as I wondered why, in the same sentence, anonymous insults both me and him/herself...cause...you know...he/she commented on "this."
Then I laughed.
Anonymous, do you really despise me more than anything ever? Wanna know things that I despise?
1. Genocide
2. Domestic abuse
3. Being chased by geese
4. Murder
5. Road maps
6. Any maps
7. Murder again
This clearly calls for another award.
Anonymous, don't feel bad. I made one for you too:
I will literally give you that hug. No, really. I'm being serious. Why don't you email me and we'll talk it out, huh? Then there can be rainbows and butterflies and we can all learn to respect each other and enjoy each other and have enough decency not to despise/insult total strangers just because some people don't like unicorns jokes and others do.
Differences, kids. They make us special.
P.S. Just so we're all clear, insulting me is just fine. But your comments will be marked as spam and I might write an immature and pretentious post about it. "But Megan, FREE SPEECH! You just don't want to deal with anyone who disagrees!"
Um, duh. This is MY blog. Free speech doesn't apply so much. Why would I let anyone say icky things about me and my readers? It's insulting to the very concepts of acceptance and free speech. If you want to disagree with me respectfully, knock yourself out. Otherwise, let me reiterate a point: IT'S MY BLOG, I DO WHAT I WANT! HAHAHA!
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