The Extraordinary

Everyone knows I'm not afraid to publicly discuss my life on this blog o' mine, at least to some generic extent. Everyone knows I try to say, if I can help it, just what I think, feel, don't feel, feel TOO MUCH, etc. However, this blog has shielded one section of my life a little because it's the section of my life I hold most dear, most private, most beloved. I mention my relationship from time to time because it's a HUGE part of my life, but you're not going to hear, say, what we ate for and talked about at breakfast this morning or what new life moment we experienced hand-in-hand last week. Sure, I let some details out here and there because I'm proud of who I'm with and what we've done, but all those details and intimate moments? That stuff is for us. That stuff is supposed to be just for us. That's the beauty of choosing to be with one person in a world of monogamist nay-sayers, conquering them and the world in general with your silent, yet steel-strength bond. You find love in a hopeless place, or better yet, actual privacy in a social media state.

However, most outsiders think having a life just for us is slightly abnormal, if not completely weird, and most puzzling, somehow an omen of dullness and/or unhappiness. So I'm here to set the record straight once and for all, and for one time only.

I am in love with my best friend. I have been for two years. We have lived together and apart. We have fought, and we have overcome. We have always been the topic of controversy, whether justly or truthfully so, yet we have always ignored the hell out of it. We have always been deeply in laughter as much as we are deeply in love, even when it looked like things were falling apart. We have never offered explanation nor description of anything; we have always, always, always been private. We have been private from the beginning because being private means having something special no one can touch or take away from you. Being private means being truly intimate with one person, not the world as a whole. Being private means being fulfilled within your relationship, not outside of it. Being private means discovering just how deep you love the person, not the idea of them.

Lest I hear another person ask me how this or that works in a now long-distance-but-barely-distanced relationship... it just works, alright? Do you want to know why? Because we talk to each other, not everyone else. We talk about everything, even the stuff that pisses us off, because when we wake up the next morning, everything we have said was to make the other person better. Make them happy. Make them know that just because there's a measly couple of hours between us, we still care about the other person more than anyone else, without agenda. And all the stuff we talk about, and do, and say, and plan, and dream in those conversations... we keep it to ourselves.

And you know what? That might not be ordinary to you, or ordinary period. But it is something. Something even better: extraordinary.

I'll share what I want to share when I want to share it. More importantly, I'll only share what I know he doesn't mind me sharing, because you know what's most important – more important – than this blog, than your opinion, than anything? Him.

Damn if that is not the best lesson he has ever taught me, and to learn it, the best decision I have ever made.

Happy 2 years, J. I love you and I like you.

Taylor Swift Syndrome

Taylor Swift is ruining our lives.

Aside from dominating the iTunes Top 100 and therefore ruining my browsing pleasure, she is seriously and negatively affecting society. How you say? I'M GLAD YOU ASKED!

This girl, for some reason, has a great deal of power. She's like a baby Hitler for tween and teen girls, and no matter how much I protest, even some of my own gal pals. She pulls them in with her poppy (not country-y) songs and relatable lyrics, because let's face it, who hasn't been 15 and heartbroken? And if you grew up in the South, it's unlikely you don't have "Tim McGraw" in your music library, even if you're a 20-something who wants to teach the world about the dangers of Miss. Swift and her teardrop-covered guitar.

But these tunes are all propaganda for this darker, deeper thing that scares the shit out of me. T. Swift has been dubbed this cute little girl next door, but if Janis Ian taught me anything, it's that Taylor Swift is a mean girl. She is a mean girl in nice girls clothing, and she's doing a really good job of tricking a lot of people into believing that clothing is the real deal. That trickery is dangerous. That trickery makes girls everywhere believe it's okay to act the way Taylor acts. And the way Taylor acts is manipulative, disrespectful, and far from nice.

Of course I haven't sat down and discussed philosophy and ASOS with the girl, but I don't need to. I don't need to because she airs her dirty laundry via song, even if that means airing other people's dirty laundry, too. And trust me, you can tell a lot about a person by what they're willing to discuss publicly.

Taylor is of this breed of person who doesn't mind sharing her whole life with the world. That's fine to an extent, because she can choose to share whatever she wants with whomever. But when other people come into play, when other people's private lives get thrusted into the public eye just because they intersect with ol' Swiftys, a line gets crossed. When Taylor does things like discuss another woman's sexuality or directly name men in her songs, she is taking away the right of those people to choose what they want or don't want to share with the public. And that's bullying. That's disrespectful. That's mean.

That deeper, darker thing I mentioned earlier? The scary-as-hell thing that Taylor has done? She has created this environment where she is essentially giving the OK to put anyone who slights you on blast, simply for your own selfish wants, but turn around and say "Oh, but I'm hurt, I couldn't possibly share any of the blame, and it's totally fine because I'm the victim!"

Wrong. So wrong.

People are going to hurt you, my little ladies. You're going to get shit upon and jerked around, and probably even worse. But unless there is a true evil to expose – a molester, a rapist, a beater – you're not helping anyone, most of all yourself, by putting people on blast. You're just prolonging your own torment, creating it for others, and disrespecting the boundaries of other human beings.

Your private life is an amazing, beautiful thing. It's something you get to keep close to you and you alone. Once you give it to someone else, you taint it. You can choose to share things with the person you love or even thousands of people if that's your bag, but the choice should always be yours, and you should never feel like someone has taken away your right to privacy. You should never, ever feel like you're allowed to take it away from someone else. And you should never, ever, ever let Taylor Swift Syndrome let you think it's okay to be an asshole just to make yourself feel better at the expense of one or ten or hundreds of other people.

There might be a fleeting sense of satisfaction Taylor's way, but there is such a prolonged, beautiful, peaceful bliss in caring about other people's feelings, letting things go, and keeping your dirty laundry in the nice, warm wicker basket in your bedroom at home.

Don't let Little Miss. Swift pull that polka-dotted, J.Crew sweater over your eyes. Being a disrespectful dick isn't cool, no matter how rockin' your bangs are. In the words of some much better songwriters, let it be.