In No Particular Order

I have to remind myself that my best entries are the honest ones. It's not that I don't know this innately and through years of professors pounding it in my head. It's not that I don't notice better feedback when I open up and get down to the nitty gritty. It's all duly noted and I wish it were easier said than done.

It's just that there's this part of me that doesn't want to let go of the privacy I find in my own head. I don't want to overwhelm people with honesty and make them think I'm this self-absorbed vagina who can't pull her head out of her ass and relate. I don't like those kinds of bitches and I think it's safe to say that most of you don't either.

At the same time, if I don't let my readers in, I'm losing out. I lose out because y'all are the best readers in the world. If I'm going to let anyone read my inner-most, wouldn't I want it to be your eyes doing so? Most of all, I lose out because I'm not honest with my writing or myself.

So welcome back in, guys. I didn't realize I'd put up this wall until I began my journey back toward creativity. It hasn't been a lengthy one yet, but it has certainly been doing its job of slapping me in the face and saying "You can't give up now, girl! Here, drink this ice water and walk with me to Connecticut!" Did I mention my creativity vision-quest spirit guide is Katharine Hepburn?

I've been pondering what my next step should be in life now that my contracted stint with a great company is over. In no particular order, here they are:

• Med school. No, not because I've recently and sporadically begun watching House, but because I've been beaten up like a skinny kid at a fat camp by the medical system, and I'm tired of it. I have also spent far too many hours on WebMD and have too many medical dictionaries than I'd like to admit. I also self-diagnosed myself with Scarlet Fever once, so there's that.
• Teach women in prison how to read, write, etc. I really think they get the shaft on most of their charges and they especially get the shaft when they come back out in society. The problem with the world today is that no one thinks reading is important, but if you can read, you can teach yourself to do anything. I want to give them a fresh start.
• Start my own business. Not that anyone in their right mind would give me a loan with my lack of credit, but this seems to be the idea that I keep coming back to most. I have a blog as the basis for it, I have an outline, and within the week I'll be finishing my business plan.
• Nab my teaching license because let's be honest, I'm lazy, and the thought of getting summers and Christmas breaks forever seems really amazing. P.S. As long as I don't have to teach... ugh, children.
• Apply for the (very) few jobs in my field and take one (or two) that will make me happy, even if they have shit for pay and are only part time.
• Drop everything, drag my boyfriend and pups to New York, and become a world famous actress, comedian, singer, and all-around awesome person.

Thanks for tuning in to this edition of "What's Been Keeping Me Up at Night." Stick around for more after the commercial break.

HB: Rumours

Rumors look cool when they're spelled like the Fleetwood Mac album title, but in reality, they are unattractive, annoying, and childish. I thought I'd left the days of hearing and being the center of rumors behind in high school, but they rear their heads now and then. Really, you'd think they'd get the hint that I'm not into them anymore. Rumors and I, we broke up a long time ago, and not even a big bouquet of sunflowers can redeem them for me.

When we were a certain age, these kind of funny stories and vicious lies were a way of life. Maybe that is a misconception on my part, but I know in my small-town high school, this was absolutely true. We bonded and broke because of gossip that may or may not have been true. We entertained ourselves with the facts and fallacies of people's lives because we didn't know any better.

There came a time, maybe in late high school, probably in college, possibly after nabbing that Bachelors, when we all grew up and found ideas more fascinating than whether or not our friend actually got drunk enough to hook up with this stupid guy we kissed once, five years ago. That kinda thing just lost its bite when we all grew up into better and brighter people.

The fact remains that even these more intelligent creatures we've evolved into still love a juicy rumor. It's human nature, but it's just not socially or morally acceptable to be a rumor-spreading asshole after your skin has cleared and you have seen a bit of the world. It's for that precise reason why we created an industry for celebrity gossip rags. We get to indulge in scandal without having a guilt trip with Ben and Jerry on the couch later.

We also enjoy a good celeb rumor because we're so far removed that we can never be burned by it. We all want to be in the know, but none of us want to be the center of a scandalous (or not so) topic of conversation. We enjoy it from a bird's eye view, but things change when the camera angle zooms tight around our own faces.

For the most part, a little gossip in social circles never hurts anyone, despite it being a social faux pas. However, there's a line between appropriate, healthy chit-chat and completely insane lies. Whether we're talking about our friends or they're talking about us, it's just not cool to falsify information for whatever reason. The right rumor has the power to destroy lives if it's released to the right people at the right time. (Haven't any of you seen the movie "Gossip!?")

The sad thing is, we're supposed to like our friends. We're supposed to be supportive. We're supposed to be happy for them when they're happy, and sad with them when they're sad. We're not supposed to attack each other like rabid dogs simply because we're unhappy, jealous, or bored.

Recently, the rumor mill around me has been on fire. While it doesn't actually injure me because I am strong enough in my own gait to continue down my own life path, it does piss me the hell off.

It angers me that petty envy can make people try to infect my happiness simply because they don't have their own kind. It riles me up to know that people I trust are out there breaking that faith for their own entertainment. It's disheartening to know these faceless gossipers are choosing to weaken our friendship rather than strengthen it. And for what? Less boredom? The debatably tasty morsel of a rumor on the tongue for maybe 30 seconds? What a sad way to treat your pals.

We all talk a little talk, but the difference between talking about Mary's latest Saturday night and her maybe-that's what I heard-no way!-STD is the motive. The former is out of natural curiosity, while the latter is vindictive, disrespectful, and inappropriate behavior for a trusted friend. Enough is enough, y'all. Let's all - old and young, guilty and innocent, me and you - grow up a bit.

We're not The Plastics, ya know?

HB: Closed-Minded Assholes

I wish there were a SFW title for this situation, but I don't feel like making up an euphemism, and let's just be frank here. These jerks are taking over the world like a dirty little pack of cockroaches, and they're just as hard to metaphorically kill.

I passed a church sign this weekend and basically screamed in astonishment right in the bf's ear when I read it. Something along the lines of "Adultery, sodomy, and fornication are only forgiven by the blood of Jesus." Ummm.... que? Last time I checked, Jesus already died. What are us fornicators supposed to do?! Eat his zombie corpse?! OH, GOD! WE'RE DOOMED!!!!!!!

Hold on. Wasn't that death supposed to be "for our sins?" Shouldn't these sins already be forgiven? Fuck. I don't understand.

Alright, alright. All jokes aside, this isn't about one church in North Carolina. It's not even about one person, one religion, one concept. It's about the idea of strangers prejudging and condemning other strangers. It's about the idea of letting the fear of opening up to different things cause pain, suffering, and bigotry of all kinds.

I understand that some people have been raised a certain way or that their religious doctrines may dictate what they can and cannot do. I understand that some people may have had bad personal experiences in their lives that have warped their perceptions. I understand that not everyone can love or even like everyone else. I understand that the world will never be perfect and completely peaceful. What I don't understand is how we don't even try because we are so scared of stepping outside of our comfort zones and discovering something new.

Instead of trying to research and comprehend the shoes of our opposites, even in the slightest, we post 50 links a day on Facebook about why their shoes are the wrong ones. What is that? What if you know NOTHING ABOUT SHOES?! What is righteous, in any land, race, or religion, about putting your mind in a dark, disgusting box of haterade?

While I wanted so badly to march up to that church with a sign of my own, proclaiming boldly how wrong homophobia and other discrimination is, I didn't. Why? Because fire with fire is rarely the way to solve our issues. While it feels good at the time, it merely creates a thick layer of smoke that none of us, not even I, can see through.

What we need to do is stop talking and start listening. We've gotta reach out beyond our comfort zones and attempt to understand one another. We have to do this because it is vital to a respectful existence. It won't necessarily be easy or fun, but it will be right. Isn't being right and good to each other what this whole life gig is about?

At the end of the day, no one's perfect. We all have a little bit of this closed-mindedness lurking in the depths of our souls somewhere, but those of us who have a little bit more of a peripheral have to help those crippled by their antiquated tunnel vision. It's time to open up to the ideas of the future.

Let's hope those ideas include hover boards for everyone.

HB: I'll Pass on the Passive Aggressiveness

The whole point of an argument is battling two rival opinions. Conflict may sometimes be infuriating, scary, or just plain messy, but if you choose not to participate in a battle of words, your only other option is to shut up. There is no in between. Well, there is, but it's this bullshit known as passive-agressiveness.

We've all been there. We have been sitting nonchalantly in our living rooms, watching tv and laughing riotously at the shitty dialogue. We have been minding our own lovely business, and then it happens. Someone walks by and mutters something offhandedly.

"By the way, I did all of those dishes that were in the sink... for a week."

Then this cantankerous ninja disappears into the night like Bruce Wayne in his snazzy little rubber suit. Apparently, that's that. Normally we're left in a kind of "What the hell, man? I'm just trying to watch this same rerun of 'Yes, Dear' for the 50th time in peace!" state, because really, what the hell, man?

If you have a complaint to file, file that motherfucker. If you don't think your plight is important enough to address, shove that shit down in your psyche or just plain forget it. Don't, however, find a way to say something without really saying anything. The results will yield little if any progress in your predicament.

I've run into PA's often: my downstairs neighbors in college, some old roommates, a few friends ex friends, and of course, strangers everywhere, everyday. I've observed through these unfortunate incidents that there are two kinds of passive-aggressors. They're both equally annoying, not to mention completely incapable of actually communicating their qualms.

There are the passive folk, who are just scared to hurt anyone's feelings or fight with a friend/enemy/frenemy/etc. When these guys come out with a "No, it's fine, I'll just take out the garbage again," it's because they will never have the balls to simply ask someone to do something.

On the other hand, there are the agressive assholes who simply find some sick pleasure in being a dick without really being a dick. You know those chumps on the highway who go 10 below the speed limit, then speed up as soon as you try to pass them? Yeah, those guys.

These classes of PA's wear different suits, but they share a distinct shade of cowardice when faced with contention. They come from different backgrounds, but elect to confront people in the same not-quite-but-sorta confrontational way.

In the end, none of us can change the behavior of a PA. I know it's hard to accept that we can't force this annoying trait out of people, but we can choose not to placate them by being honest. Let's look past these bastards in true passiveness or let us unleash our fury upon them in actual aggressiveness.

*In order to be completely un-PA in this message, I must disclaim that there are multiple people I had in mind while writing this. It is to no one in particular, but if you've ever been a big ol' PA to me, you can bet your sweet ass this is about you. See? Honesty. Not too shabby, eh?

HB: I Read the News Today, Oh, Boy

The news. I know I need to read it, watch it, stream it, overwhelm myself with it, but point blank? It pisses me off.

It's not the media folk themselves, as I myself am a journalist in theory/on a diploma abandoned somewhere. The troubling thing is what they are reporting.

There are currently two overwhelming sectors of news reporting which can only be labeled as "Really?" and "Fucking Tragic." Sometimes they blur, especially of Michele Bachmann is involved.

Really?
These stories, like the brilliant Seth and Amy segment on SNL, just make you think/say/scream "Really?" I'm talking about the way-too-much coverage of Kim Kardashian's wedding, the over-introductions at the Tea Party debate, and your garden variety WTF stories. I'm not saying I don't get a laugh out of a Swedish moose that can't hold his alcy, but if you're giving it more than a blip of coverage, you're probably a shitty reporter or in desperate need of a Tumblr account. If I want news that's gonna bust my gut or make me scratch my head, I'll go looking for it on sites like The Onion or the aforementioned and almighty Tumblr. I don't, however, expect to be gunned down repetitively with the same style of stories from real serious respected established news outlets.

Fucking Tragic
I don't have to really explain this aspect of the news, but in case you haven't been paying attention, every night we are regaled of tales that involve death and despair. While it is true this is a reflection of our world, this pain is often extorted for ratings. The other night, the leading story on the 11 p.m. news was about a deadly plane crash at an air show. As if this wasn't awful enough in itself, we were then presented a video of the crash as it happened. It wasn't as widespread as say a 9/11, but it was just as horrifying to see. There are accounts of young soldiers dying around the world, governments that are in shambles, and politicians who are bigoted, crazy, or both. There is a distinct lack of a bright side in our papers and our airwaves. Oh, except for when those Really? stories get a day or six of coverage.

There are still some standouts: Both "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report" do a wildly good job at commentating on the goings-on of the world, especially for two shows that are at their base satire, a form of comedy. We have reporters like Anderson Cooper and Brian Williams, but in order to bring us their stories, they have to play off of their personas in many a comedic cameo. The New York Times will always be solid. There will always be shining glimpses of hope in the media, but they will always be overshadowed by these nutso networks (FOX) and stories that either make us want to punch babies or kill ourselves.

I just don't know how to balance being an educated citizen and journalist, and not being depressed or full of rage all the time. I'm constantly searching for a way to fix it because that's my job, but it is also the job of thousands of others out there who simply are not doing it.

HB: Educate Your Children

Look: I'm not a parent. I don't know if I ever want to be, and even if I do one day cross that bridge, it'll be when I know I won't royally fuck up some kid's life. People give me this weird side glance when I say that, but think about how much work it takes just to keep a house plant alive. Now imagine having to take care of that weird Piranha-like alien plant from "Little Shop of Horrors." Next thing you know, you're feeding it Steve Martin and stuff just gets way too out of hand.

I digress. I grew up around some awesome parents who seemed to really have it together, and it just doesn't seem that hard to tell your kid not to be stupid or rude. But oh, no, no... this just doesn't exist in the vast majority of households if these kids are close to talking to their parents the way they're attempting to talk to me.

As I've noticed via my job as a school photographer, children of today don't understand basic directions. They cannot mimic movements, they cannot tell their right from left, they cannot process words as items that have meaning. They get angry when you tell them what to do nicely, and angry when you tell them what to do in your Hulk-iest voice.

I'm not really blaming anyone because there are so many people to blame. It could be parents, it could be "Jersey Shore," but whoever or whatever it is, is making this new generation alarmingly unintelligent and entitled as hell.

I don't know if it's because we had cooler video games (looking at you, Goldeneye) or we just read more books, but I feel like all of the people I grew up with were thousands of times smarter than the little assholes I snap photos of every day. If I hear "I want a BLUE background," "Tilt my head which way?" or "The red feet?" one more time, I'm gonna throw the unlucky thing into a library, sans food and water, and leave it there until it has raised its IQ at least 10 points.

It bothers me to know that as a whole, these miniature humans are going to have a say in the government one day. Hell, one of them is going to be president, and he or she won't even know which pen to use.

Disclaimer: this, as all my hatin' do, does not apply to the awesome children I have the privilege of having in my life, but let's be honest... that's few and far between. Read a newspaper, yo.

HB: Mind Ya Business

I was on my lunch break the other day when I slid my card across the counter to pay for my meal. The man behind me, in what I believe he thought was a noble act, told me to watch how I held my card because he could see the numbers on it.

"My numbers?"
"Yeah, your numbers."

And that was that. He didn't accompany this sage wisdom with a warm smile or follow-up information, he merely looked down his nose at me and carried on with his day. I, on the other hand, had to swallow some serious attitude.

In a preface, I understand that this was supposed to be a form of helpful advice, but it was the most condescending encounter with a stranger I've ever had.

If I'd have thought he could have handled my truth, I would have asked him whether it was because I was young or a woman that he assumed I didn't understand or care about identity theft. I would have asked him how he'd prefer me to hold my card to hand it to a man who needed to see it. (I assume he'd have wanted the card cupped between my hands, only uncovering it when the cashier's sweaty hands overlapped mine.) I would have asked him if he could have recalled all of the information required to use my card for a transaction on the Internet since I've never seen someone pay for their meal at a Subway using a debit card number sans debit card. I would have asked him if he shreds all of his important documents and safeguards his computer, if he covers up the keypad every time he enters his pin number, if he has a long enough password for his bank account.

I would have asked him to mind his own fucking business.

But I didn't. He was obviously a crotchety old man who thought he was doing a good deed, but he was merely exacerbating my distaste for this horrible two-step that some people do back and forth over a very specific line between being friendly and being a nosey asshole. There's a big difference.

I'll take a good samaritan any day of the week, but the next time someone tries to get in my business merely for the sake of it, I might have to give them the Honest Bitch slapdown. Or, ya know, get on here and complain about it again.

If you have any ideas for HB entries or gonnas, email me at imgonnadothatgirl@gmail.com!

Honest Bitch

As I was sitting up one night with my mother, talking about this and that, I found myself confessing my distaste for the general lack of stomach when it comes to honesty. I'm at a point in my life where even the thought of sugarcoating the truth is nauseating.

Of course I'm not referring to the occasional white lie or even the menial (and not so menial) lies we may find ourselves falling into on any given day. These things are a way of life and always will be. I'm referring to the fact that people are almost often forced to lie because no one can... well, handle the truth.

I have a tendency to hurt peoples feelings or offend strangers by the things that come out of my mouth. While I find I have to take some personal responsibility when it comes to holding my tounge, I find more frequently that the problem lies with these blinders society has tried to force upon us over the years. We've been numbed so much that now even simple truths shock us. While you shouldn't go around saying whatever you feel to whomever you feel like, you should be able to speak your mind without getting napalmed with overreactions.

This is where the idea for the Honest Bitch blog entries came from. In an effort to fill the void on my blog that this transitional moment in my life has left, I will commentate on the things I do, see, and hear with reckless truth.

Maybe one day they will be their own little blog, but for now, the HB entries will live here because it was something I said I was gonna do and here I am doing it.

If you have any topics you want honest-fied, email me at imgonnadothatgirl@gmail.com! Catch y'all on the flip side.

True Grit

Right now, I'm having a party in my bed, regardless of having to get up in 7 hours to anti-party. I'm eating yogurt and pretzels. Sending pics back and forth. Watching "Eerie, Indiana" (lemme get a shoutout, 90s kids). Fucked up on kpins. Backing up my computer. Looking at pictures of cute babies and indecently priced clothing. Oh, and pondering if I should tell any of you any of this.

I'm pondering because I don't want to have to explain myself. I don't want to explain my jokes. I don't want to explain my compulsion and choice to curse so fucking much. I don't want to explain that I really only took my prescribed dose of medication, but haven't eaten enough. I don't want to explain me.

I'm always a straight talker, so explanations shouldn't be an issue in my life. Why, then, am I consistently feeling like I'm having to reiterate, retrace the things I have said? It makes me feel like what I say is never taken at face value. It makes me feel uneasy. It makes me feel dishonest.

Honesty isn't the best policy, it's the only one. It's the title page, the index, and all the chapters in my rule book. Because of my vast experience with it, I'm cozy with an abundant level of reality. It doesn't make me squirm in the way I've seen others do under rigorous truth. In fact, my mother and sister once told me that I'm honest enough to produce fear. "It's intimidating, Rachel."

That always stuck with me and I've tried to take note of it since. I've tried to take it easy, let some things slide, and stay honest without hitting anyone over the head, especially here on this blog. I do this not because I am uncomfortable sharing my life, but because the people in mine might not be as comfy with the idea of public disclosure.

I can't ever lie to myself, though, and at the end of the day, holding back is not what I'm about. Holding back is certainly not what writing is about. The best writing comes from truth, and I haven't been telling the whole-truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth, even though I've come damn close a time or fifty.

I haven't been getting down to the true grit of things because I didn't want to force an honest hand on someone who took the time to put on a truth condom. Candor free since 2003!

But then I remember that everyone reads this stupid shit that comes out of my head by choice. No one is forcing you here by gunpoint, but for some reason, you keep reading. That means I owe it to myself and to you to make the 10-50% (depending on the day) not-fully-truthful truths....... true.

Today and from now on, I'm gonna be full of all kinds of written revelations. If you're not comfortable in that environment, you've been warned.

Oh, and there's this: