Freshly Pressed??

Writing

So I logged onto WordPress yesterday afternoon to check on my new post and almost got a heart attack. My stats exploded. My notification feed was bombarded by dozens of likes, comments, follows all directed at my Dream post.

I freaked out. My stats have been pretty consistent – a couple of follows every couple of days, a handful of comments on more interesting posts, a few pity likes on the boring ones. Spikes have happened numerous times before, but never this drastically. I thought a friend must have found out about my blog and shared it with everyone on Facebook. But that doesn’t make sense because all the traffic was directed at one post, and I don’t have that many virtual friends, and even fewer actual friends who would care enough to check out my blog. Besides, I’m still real paranoid about showing my blog to people I know. The social sphere and the blogosphere are two entities that I’d like to keep separate. Anyhow, I browsed the WordPress homepage and stumbled on the Freshly Pressed feed and right there, smack in the middle of the top row, is my post with its long ass title. Then it all clicked, and I was at a loss for words.

Being featured for a days and a half has already doubled my following. It’s brought me more traffic in 24 hours than I’ve gotten in the last 2, 3 months. And the support has been overwhelming. I haven’t had the time to reply to all the comments, but I’ve read every single one. It’s an honor to know that my writing has touched many of you in different ways. I connect with you guys precisely because we know nothing about each other in the real world. We’re strangers but we’re all passionate about human stories. I hope a snippet of my life has left an impression on you, just as your blog posts leave impressions on me all the time.

Thank you WordPress team for sharing a piece of heart, and thank you everyone for all the love. I’ll keep writing and keep believing, so stay tuned.

Advertisements

Hi.

My Awesome Life

Hi again. I’m back from the dead. Please believe me when I say I’ve literally had no time to blog. Without torturing you with insanely dull details, let’s just say I got kicked out of my dorm and pulled off 2 straight all nighters. Yeah, um, the building next to my dorm exploded. East Village explosion. You may have read it on the news. My parents certainly haven’t….either that or they just forgot my address. But uh, anyhow, I’ve ran the gauntlet of the most extreme emotional and physical torture and made it out alive. Barely, with a ton of bruises and scares that may never heal, but alive nonetheless. I’ve missed blogging. The whole time I was wandering around NYC at seven in the morning, sweaty and disgusting and homeless, I thought about blogging constantly. Blogging, writing, cussing, crying, anything that let’s me exorcise all the rage and hatred and sexual frustration burning inside my loins (lol). I actually had a nice long howl Saturday afternoon that left me relieved, exhausted, and extremely thirsty (lol).

And I had my second quarter-life existential crisis in two weeks. Who am I?? Am I making the right decisions? It’s so confusing because the various commitments I’ve taken up this semester require me to adopt several personas, all of which feel so foreign to me. And I’m cool with that; after all, you need to take risks and grow as a person. Yet sometimes I just feel like I’m pushing myself to become someone I’m not.

Fake it till you make it. That’s what everyone tells us. Especially us introverts who refuse to comply with the charismatic, articulate, extroverted personality standard that society lauds. The whole time I’m “faking it till I make it,” all I can think of is, “why do I have to fake it to make it??” Why do we live in a society where being introverted and quiet and perceptive is considered a weakness? I can’t remember how many times I’ve been told that if I don’t speak up I’ll never get anywhere. I just think that’s so fucked up, this idea that being a good talker is more valuable than being a good thinker or a good listener.

Since that’s the way society has become, I’m willing to change myself, to improve on my “weaknesses.” But at what point do I start to lose myself? At what point do I begin to see my “weaknesses” as real weaknesses? Knowing that I may really start hating my introverted traits scares the shit out of me. I have to remind myself constantly that it’s okay to be withdrawn, that it’s therapeutic to wander off into my little world and imagine weird, crazy things that’ll never happen, that it’s fine to leave the practical world behind for a little while. I do that because I truly believe that those so called weaknesses are the essence of my being. I do that because I’ve never considered my awkwardness or my inability to speak coherently a real weakness. Maybe that’s why I’m such a slow learner, but that’s also why I’ve never lost myself.

Truth is, I get attached easily but nothing sticks. I don’t have an addictive personality. Cigarette smoke invigorates me. If some guy walks by me with a cig dangling out of his mouth, I’d breathe in real deep and exhale real slow, bathing in that delirious blend of toxins. Sometimes I even get that irresistible urge to snatch it out of someone’s hands and take a drag myself. Goddamn. But if I don’t see it, I don’t think about it. Even when I’m smoking and loving the hell out of it, I know that it’s never gonna be a habit. That’s how it goes what everything I do. I’ll get involved and work hard but I know where my heart is. That’s the mindset I had going into this year, into some of the academic pursuits that I took on.

But I’m starting to think I’m losing my stand.

Why I Don’t Consider Myself a Feminist

Musings/Rants

Because I want to be abused, manipulated, and humiliated by men. I am happy and proud to know that having boobs and a vagina makes me unqualified to receive as fat a paycheck as my vagina-less co-workers even though we do the same shit day in day out. I’d love to give up my career as a janitor or a freelance journalist or a screenwriter and spend the rest of my life changing diapers and doing laundry and mopping the marble floors of the $10 million mansion that I would obviously not be residing in had I not married a man. I want to breathe and live and sleep in the fucking kitchen because that’s my natural habitat and all animals are attracted to their natural fucking habitats.

No screw that, I’m too self-absorbed to not believe in feminist ideals. I think the world is one shit eating twat for under-appreciating and constantly humiliating the very species responsible for its existence. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. If every woman decides to get her vagina stitched up right now, we can end the human race and every little fucker who dared say “go back to the kitchen” within the next century. That’s how much power we have and you better believe it.

But still, does agreeing with some parts of a movement make you a believer? I’m an atheist but I wholeheartedly support the very Christian values of love and family…even though I think the keystone (that big fat book) of that religion is total bullshit. Perhaps I’m just too pessimistic to believe that feminism is going to inspire significant change in this era (by significant change, I don’t mean Charlize Theron negotiating a $10 million raise to match Chris Hemsworth’s meager earnings), but for me to really feel passionate about a cause I have to feel some kind of urgency. What would happen if we don’t ever close the wage equality gap? Are feminists going to hanging themselves in protest? To me, gender inequality, at least in first world countries, feels more like an inconvenience rather than a toxic social virus that needs to be immediately terminated. We’ll get mad, we’ll riot, but in the end we’ll still turn up at work every morning and accept 20% less money than the assholes who put in 20% the effort that we do. Ultimately, we still do get paid and we’ll live just fine.

It’s unfair as hell, and wage inequality is just the tip of a very, very large iceberg. But what can we really do about a problem that has its roots in biology? Women and men just aren’t programmed the same way, and to have the same laws or the same social attitudes governing two very different species is not feasible. Be honest, do you really go to dinner and not expect your date to pay for you? Do you really look around your 9th grade classroom and expect 90% of the guy to be porn virgins? Do you really go on Omegle and not expect the first guy who hits on you to be some hairy balding pedophilic 30-year-old rapist? Are you really not shocked when you find out that the person who kidnapped and murdered two children is actually a woman? We think of the worst in each in other, and that won’t change unless we evolve into hermaphrodites. But as much as we complain we still can’t fucking live without each other, can we?

P.S: My featured image is a seahorse because sometimes I wish we can all metamorphorsize into seahorses so we won’t ever have to waste time on this gender inequality bullshit and oh we’ll be so much prettier too