A Fact of Life

Guess what?

You follow morals of many different religions every day. It doesn't matter if you're not part of that faith, there are parts of it that are part of your moral compass.

So do I.

I may be Wiccan, but that doesn't mean I only follow the rules that it teaches me. "Love thy neighbor," and "treat others as you want to be treated," are both followed by Wiccans, Buddhists, Christians, Jews, and many other religious people. Do they know they're not alone in this? Sometimes.

"So ever mind the law of three," and "An it harm none, do what ye will," may be familiar if you have any friends or enemies who are Wiccan. The law of three refers to karma. Now, even if you don't believe in karma, do you believe in consequence? They pretty much go hand-in-hand.

The second line above, "An it harm none, do what ye will," shows that we have free will, but we shouldn't abuse that right. True, many abuse it every day, like terrorists, religious extremists, bullies, even authorities.

My uncle Wesley believes that no one should be condemned to a life of torment because they chose to follow a separate faith. There's a first amendment for a reason. He also said, "everyone, by following the laws set forth by congress, abide by at least four of the ten commandments."

You don't have to be part of a particular faith to be a good person. I know plenty of people who would say that I'm a good person, and they're not part of my religion. I'm certainly not going to assume you're a bad person because you're Christian, Satanist, Jewish, or Buddhist. That's not my right. I don't get to say that you're bad because of what you believe in.

What makes you a good or bad person depends on how you treat others based on what they believe, what they like, what their opinions are, their orientation, their height, their weight, if they have braces, if they can't play a sport as well as you, or don't get straight A's like you do.

If you can treat a person like they're worth something, even if they're worth nothing to you,  and not stab them in the back in the end, I'd consider you a good person.

If you tell someone they're wrong for believing something, or act like you're better than them just because you're Christian and straight, and they're atheist, agnostic, Jewish, or Buddhist and/or bisexual/homosexual, I would consider you a horrible person. Not just a bad person, but horrible, for believing you're any better than anyone else.

Treated unfair, or hypocrisy?

So today on the bus a little girl called Ryan over to give him some candy. Ryan got up, and Corbin started calling him names. (this wasn't just a small, "fatass" this was full out constant picking at).

Well, Ryan got a little angry. He got in Corbin's face about it. He said, "If you don't like being called the N word, don't call other people names," calling out his hypocrisy.

I think I could defend this statement. Honestly, Corbin does get picked on for being black, and we take care of it. He can't honestly expect not to get treated like an ignorant nine year old when he acts like one.
and this is not exaggerated, "fatass! You're so fat," and "sit down fat ass!" came out of his mouth today towards Ryan.

Of course, mom was defending her little angel, as usual. "He can't help his race, but you can help your weight," she told Ryan. Um? That makes Corbin in the right? I don't think so.

I went to talk to her about it, because Corbin was definitely being defended and Ryan treated unfairly. I said I was "getting tired of Corbin's snotty attitude." She knew what I was talking about and started pointing out my flaws. I could've seen that coming. I go to talk to her about one of her snots in any type of bad way at all, and she latches onto something about me. She tried defending that little brat.

At least my dad agreed with me. I'm so tired of her bullshit. She won't even listen to me when I have a problem. Great parenting skills, right?

Rants, rants!

I hate my Intro to Business class.

I hate it. I have zero interest in the class whatsoever, and I'm supposed to take business law next quarter? Yeah, right!
Not only that, but the people in the class with me are stupid. I mean, how hard is it to use the English language?
By that I mean:
Learn the difference between then and than, among other things.
And, is it absolutely necessary to roll your fucking computer chair over to the teacher to ask her a question? Every single time, just bump into me, distract me from whatever assignment I'm doing, move my chair over, and of course you have to do it twice because you have to get back to your stupid computer. How hard is it to just stand up and walk over there, or better yet, since you're so lazy, just raise your hand.
Every time the kid next to me makes that stupid noise, I just want to take a 2x4 to his face. It's one of those "ch-eah" sounds, but without the "eah" and it's "sh" instead. W.t.f?
I'm tempted to start screaming at him every day.

I strongly dislike people who say they hate drama, but deliberately look for it. You can't have it both ways. Either you hate drama and you're chill, or you're in love with it and create it.

It makes me angry that every other country's residents can speak 4 different languages fluently including English, and some speak English better than 90% of Americans. Four languages. Fluently. 75% of Americans can't spell "express." (Sad, isn't it? I can get a picture.) Of course, that was a freshman.

I wish that schools would teach logic. I mean, it's not like I have an issue with logic, but so many others do. I don't know how they have issues with it. It feels like logic should be a natural thing. We are intelligent beings, right? Let's prove it.

I hate when people complain about academics. They're extremely important in life (even if we're all going to die, anyway). Complaining about literature and other subjects just proves ignorance. You're stupid in that subject, so you hate it. How about learning the stupid skill and using it?

If this offended anyone, I apologize. I'm just extremely angry and frustrated.

Completely surprised

I never expected to get so much feedback. I have had quite a few people messaging me on facebook about my previous posts, with absolutely nothing but nice things to say. I love it. It makes me smile every time I see those messages.
So now, I have a message for you all:

Some of the people messaging me, I don't even talk to a lot. It means so much that so many support me and are sending me such kind words. It truly leaves me speechless. I honestly have no idea how to react but like this. I have gotten zero negative feedback.

From my blog, I have gotten an idea. I don't know who all will do it, but I'd like to put it out there.

I want you to start your own blog. Start it with an autobiography. The point of this is to show that no one is perfect, and no one has been perfectly happy with their entire life, no matter what they say. No matter what the facade they put on in public is. Everyone is different when they're alone. Show me, and everyone else, what you're made of.
Tell me, tell us, about your heartbreaks. About the issues you might have in your family, or a drug problem.

Just to make it a challenge, make it anonymous. You don't have to make yourself anonymous (unless you want to), but you can't mention anyone else's name. Ever. Unless it's your significant other or your sibling. Post the link on your facebook (or not) and/or on a comment to this blog post.

You know what I've been through. I want to know what you've been through.

Just some thoughts

I like how the people that say they hate drama (oh, and they say this all the time) are always the ones that start it. They're the ones that go onto other peoples' facebook pages deliberately just to post hate either on their status, photos, or on their wall directly.
I would like to point out now that if you have a problem with what I put on my facebook page, ignore it. Why? Because the first amendment is there for a reason. I can post whatever I want on my page. There is a limit, though.
I never call people out. That's called harassment, and internet bullying. I see some of the people that do the aforementioned drama-posts agree with tagged posts about people. I will never, not on my life, call someone out in a status on my facebook. I never put anyone's name on anything. Not even on my blog. What if they don't want to be posted? I won't post their name without asking. Even if it's a good thing. I either make up nicknames, or leave them completely anonymous. Both work well.

As a follow-up of my "letter" post, their may be some thoughts buzzing through your mind about me being a little ungrateful. The point of that letter was to show what most people have no idea I have been through. I want to say now, that among the bad times, there were also good times. Also, I know there are people worse off than me. But some people think that cutting in line is the worst thing in the world, because that may be the worst thing that's ever happened to them. Or maybe not, I don't know that.
Maybe I don't know how many times their hearts were broken, or how many issues they might have at home.

When I was in middle school, I met my boyfriend, Ryan. (Yes, I can say his name!)
He was a cutie. He was funny. (Oh, he still is!)... I had actually met him in 6th grade, but didn't really meet him until seventh grade. You know? So confusing.
Anyway, we met during variety show rehearsals. We became friends. Once, at a fun night, I had to leave early. Even though I didn't know him that well, I knew he liked hugs. I gave a hug to my friend and asked her to give it to him. (Middle schoolers are such dorks.)
Well, I guess she misunderstood. She asked him out for me instead. Thinking back on it, I'm glad she did.
We dated, broke up, dated again, broke up. Twice, we had gone out for ten months at a time. The other times were a couple months. We couldn't really get anything to work, but at the time, he's what made me happy. He's the one that's always been there for me, even when he was pretending to hate me.

My freshman year, I met (wondering if I'll get in trouble for mentioning) Stanze. I was really happy (and I think I still am) that I met her, even though we don't talk much anymore. I'm not going to say anything else, because that's just it. I was happy. At the time, I was dating someone other than Ryan. The man I was dating allowed me to have a girlfriend, too. (I'm bi, get over it.) Stanze and I just kind of "became" a thing. It was epic. We were fucking ninjas. 


By then, I had stopped talking to quite a few of my old friends, and latched onto a select few other people.

Once, in math, I was being picked on by someone. Still a freshman, I was pretty broken already. I didn't want to deal with it anymore. I got a pass to guidance. They let me stay until the lunch bell, and then I went back and sat in the classroom. When lunch was over, a prep (whoah) was the first one to come into the room. She started talking to me. She was really really nice. Of course, she's always been a good person. I've always appreciated that moment. Always.
That day, someone saw me crying when I went into the guidance office. He was one of Ryan's friends. At the time, Ryan was pretending to hate me. But when he hear from his friend that I was sad, he turned up at the end of the day to make sure I was okay.
It was confusing.



I never have regretting anything in my life. I am so happy to have met the people in my life. Every single one of them. Even the ones that hurt me. Why? Because everything makes me stronger. Stronger in will, in determination, in skin, in mind. I thank them all silently for making me who I am today. I just wish some people would see the world like me. Maybe it would be a better place.

Pictures (May be rated PG-13, beware)

I have been spending a lot of time in Photoshop lately, and have come up with some neat stuff. I have been doing so mostly because of the contests I'm in. Take a look:

 This one took a bagillion layers, but it turned out great. I'm really proud of the quality.
I got mad at Ryan this morning because he was mad at me for spending so much time in Photoshop. I asked him what else there was to do. He told me to play Skyrim. (Men...)
Anyway, this was for the assignment from the Miss Europe facebook competition, "Gamer Girl" - We had to portray a character from a video game. I did Skyrim, and they said it'd be okay if I portrayed a dragonborn.

 This was one of the possible selections for the first assignment of the aforementioned contest, "Las Vegas Showgirls" - They pick some cool stuff.

 This was another idea.

 Another idea. I didn't like any of them.

 The above is what I turned in. Someone must've slipped something in my coffee, because I'm not sure why I sent that particular image in. I'm just really glad they kept me in the contest.

 This is assignment 5 part one for the Miss World contest. I am supposed to be portraying the 80's. I like this one a lot.

This is part two of assignment 5. I am portraying Marily Monroe in "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" even though Lia is a redhead. But hey, gentlemen may prefer blondes, but real men prefer redheads. I originally had two male sims, but we're only allowed one other.

I've been doing a lot in Photoshop recently.

A letter to those who have hurt me since sixth grade

I was listening to a class discussion today in American Politics about bullying, and it made me start thinking about a lot of things.
A lot of things that I have been through.

You see, these preps were complaining about some senior girls who were cutting in the lunch line every day. They were afraid to stand up and say anything, and still are, because they don't want these girls talking about them and spreading rumors. They say that it's disrespectful. I agree. They do have a point.

But these are the same preps who have bullied me since the end of the year in sixth grade. One girl I was even friends with at one point.

When I was in sixth grade, I lived in Texas. It was a nice place, with an awesome curriculum, not much bullying, and plenty of open-mindedness among the students (as open minded as sixth graders get, mind you). I was on the A-B honor roll constantly. I had plenty of friends. Halfway through the year, we had to move for personal reasons (reasons I cannot openly disclose on my blog). I went from living in a nice house, with more than enough money for what we needed, to living in a mobile home with four other people. Not even modular, it was a legit mobile home. As in one of those fancy little trailers. Well, let's just cut fancy right out of that sentence.

By the end of the year in sixth grade, here in Wisconsin, I was making straight F's and D's. I was bullied, a lot. My entire seventh grade year I lived in fear of going to school. My bullies may not remember everything they did, but I sure do. Almost every little thing.

I missed 32 days in seventh grade. Thirty-two. I wasn't spoken to by a truancy official until eighth grade.

In seventh grade, some of you may recall I wore a lot of black. I was almost completely outcast, except for a few select people I called friends, who I don't even talk to anymore. Once, during class, a boy walked up to me and hit me in the head with a binder. The girl next to me said:

"Hit her again!"

His reply? "No, I'm too nice."

I remember wondering what made them so much better than me. It wasn't looks, because the girl was three times my size. It wasn't intelligence, because they're both pretty inept in my book. What was it? Let's look back here, and remember something our parents may have told us long ago: "People pick on other people because it makes themselves feel better."

Or something along those lines.

I was harassed for my hygiene. Wait. Didn't I just say I was living in a trailer with four other people? Trailers have those tiny-ass showers that don't keep hot water for five minutes. Yeah, I was going to have oily hair. It's a trailer home, and I'm not rich. I'm sorry I don't have as much luxury as you? Every day in P.E. it was something new.

I was called "stupid," and "freak," and so on. I started cutting halfway through seventh grade. Yes, I did. It was a dark time for me. I do blame other people for that. I do not cut anymore. I will not. I have found other ways to cope.

In eighth grade, Tiffany moved in. I loved Tiffany. By then, we had moved to the country with a modular home, and had built on my room off the sliding door on the side. (yeah, it's pretty sweet).

I became Tiffany's barbie. She dressed me in Hollister, made me not look so emo or gothic. She showed me how to apply "preppy" makeup and she was so nice to me. This was the nicest anyone had been. She met my ex, and his family.
And then my ex started to like her.

I'm not going to go into detail about that, though. What I'm drawing attention to here, is that when I started wearing Hollister, so many people in my grade thought it was so wrong. I remember one day, I was in the bathroom washing my hands. This girl came in.

"Why are you wearing that?"

"Because my roommate made me?"

"Yeah, right. I bet it's just 'cause you think it'll make you fit in."

She left. I didn't know what to think. Honestly, I did hope that I would blend in more. That people wouldn't pick me out the way they did. I was wrong.

After my ex killed himself (yep. He happened to call my roommate before he did, he wouldn't talk to me. Sometimes I tell myself he hated me. He wouldn't ever talk to me), I went into almost complete withdrawal. Ohh, Tiff is hurt soo bad, let's all give her hugs and talk to her. Truth is, she did hurt. But what hurt me more than anything is that no one stopped to think that I might hurt, too. I didn't get any hugs. No one talked to me. I've always been so jealous of things like that.

Well, I failed the eighth grade. I went to summer school and had everything finished two hours early every day. No, I'm not stupid. I just don't do the work. Why? This area's curriculum is retarded.

I was so used to being beat up against the brick wall during middle school, and looking up to see that stupid, fat ass P.E. teacher watching. She never did anything.
Why couldn't anyone help me?

Freshman year. Why can't I just move somewhere else?! was my constant thought. I was picked on by bigots and preps. Mostly close-minded people. By then I was more open about my religion, Wicca, and was being picked on for that. Yup, I was being picked on for my beliefs. I also happen to be bisexual, which I can't exactly help.
People are really going to pick on others just because of their beliefs?

Finally, by the end of my freshman year, my bullies moved onto other targets. I guess they got tired of me not fighting back.

Now, this girl mentioned above, who was complaining about those seniors? She wouldn't know bullying if it punched her in the nose. (Of course, punching her in the nose would be bullying, so could I really say that?)

Something doesn't feel right about that. Now, I have seen her grow as a person. She started off as a sweet girl in sixth grade, turned into a snotty bitch (who, by the way, I wanted to kick in the throat), and is now a very nice person in my eyes. She had bullied me mostly throughout middle school, but something is different about her, now. I could forgive her.
The other girls?

Don't you think it's funny how bullies don't really know they're bullying someone, but it's so obvious to everyone else?

I am awaiting the day that someone actually stands up for me, because I lost the will to stand long ago.