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Self Preservation

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Happy New Year to my loyal readers. Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I want to resolve to write more this year. Tell all your friends.

In the spirit of the new year, and a new semester for me at college, I wanted to address something so cliché but so important in my life, and it’s happiness. I hate the whole idea of people saying “do what makes you happy” as if that’s how we’re supposed to live. I don’t believe that. I do, however, believe that you should be happy in what you’re doing, and that depends on you alone.

That sounds really contradictory, but you know I’m going to explain. To the first statement: don’t live your life making every decision just because it makes you happy. That’s bogus. Happiness is a moving target. If you’re constantly chasing this idea of being happy, you’ll never be content and satisfied in your life. That being said, if you don’t like something about your life and it makes sense to change it, change it. But don’t run around doing whatever your heart desires from day to day. Live. Just live. Life isn’t actually short. It’s the longest thing you’ll ever do. I know, another cliché, but it’s true.

My contradiction- you should be happy. There is nothing worse than living a life where you are dissatisfied all the time. It’s just not a good way to live. It’s not healthy, and it’s kind of a waste. I think people often do this to themselves when they let their happiness depend on someone else’s. Of course, be empathetic, and try to help the people you love if they are not happy, but there has to be a balance. I read something recently that said, “Try to help your friend if they’re burning, but don’t set yourself on fire in doing so.” That’s my mantra. The people that live with this dark cloud constantly over their head often do it to themselves. Obviously there are situations like abuse or something like that where the person may actually be trapped, but the people I’m thinking of are in no such situation, they just live like there’s nothing left to live for. If you’re in a relationship with someone like that, I advise you to get out. Okay, I don’t know all of you or how your relationships work, but something should change if their misery is interfering with your own contention.

I’m being selfish. I’m a selfish person. But you know what? Life is a selfish thing. You have to be selfish in order to survive. What I have come to understand is that you should never be sorry for being happy. I have had friends go through rough patches of life, and for a while I would not tell them how I’m doing because I was doing great. And that’s not fair. Why should I feel bad because I have a good hand this round? I shouldn’t. I realized that. There are times when I’m the one not doing so well, and it sucks, but life moves very fast and more often than not I’ll be winning the next round. Of course be a decent person, you don’t have to rub it in your hurting friend’s face that your life seems perfect. But when I ask my friends how they’re doing and they say “not so great,” I listen to what their going through, offer my advice if necessary, then let them handle it. If they need help of course I help, but when they ask how I’m doing, I refuse to lie if I’m actually doing well. you shouldn’t be ashamed of being happy. Ever.

I hope some of this makes sense. I just think people need to smile more. Life isn’t that serious. I believe that. Maybe I have a super idealistic view, or maybe it’s just because I’ve seen worse situations that most people can fathom. Smile, people. You’ll feel better. 🙂

I Hate Exercising

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Spoiler alert: this is just gonna be a rant about why I hate exercising.

I hate exercising. I am all about health and if you’re into it, fitness, but I really really hate working out. It’s boring. I love playing sports (sort of), and like dancing and/or doing things like Zumba, but I absolutely hate going to the gym to run in place and pick up heavy things. It’s mind numbingly boring. I wish it wasn’t a socially encouraged thing that we subject ourselves to.

Let me tell you what I do at the gym. First, I take about 3 hours to convince myself to go. If that is successful, I take about another hour to get ready. The only thing I like about working out is the clothes. I love workout clothes. They’re comfortable, and if you can afford them, they’re cute. I love looking like someone who goes to the gym a lot. I think that’s a really cute look, and you really look like you have your life together if it looks like you enjoy working out and can afford Lululemon (I can’t.)

Affording cute workout clothes was a big deal for me. All of high school, I wore like my dad’s old basketball shorts and random t-shirts to the gym when I went to softball workouts and I felt like such a slob. Granted I went to a yuppie private school where the athletes were elitist jocks, the worst kind of jocks. You were a total scrub if you didn’t have brightly colored Nikes and matching spandex. The ultimate status symbol, of course, were Nike mid-calves. You all know what I’m talking about. Black socks, that come about 3 inches about the ankle, and have white swooshes on the sides. If you didn’t wear them you were irrelevant. The typical girl in my high school weight room would be wearing: brightly colored (probably custom) Nikes, preferably matching NikePro spandex under coordinated NikePro running shorts, and a white Fruit of the Loom v-neck men’s undershirt. I kid you not, every girl is in this same outfit or a variation of it. I loved this look. I wanted this look, but I couldn’t afford it and there was no way in hell my mom would’ve bought me $80 running shoes or $12/pair socks.

Eventually I figured out how to cheat the system. Wal Mart picked up on the trends, and their athletic wear line started to feature shorts that resembled, almost identically, the NikePro shorts and spandex for around $6/pair. I made out like bandit. I bought a pack of t-shirts, some Hanes mid-calf socks at around $0.50/pair, and matched some spandex and shorts. I finally had “the look.” I never felt more accomplished. By senior year, I had my own job, so I broke my bank on my first pair of Nike running shoes, and I had arrived. All this, and I did not like working out even a little more.

Now I’m in college. I go to Sarah Lawrence, which is a tiny liberal arts school in Yonkers, New York. Athletics here is like an afterthought. We have sports, and just became an NCAA Divison III competitor, and I am continuing my softball career here. There are people here that are athletes, but it’s nothing like high school. I went to a Zumba class in my first week here, in my Nike sneakers, Nike mid-calves, Wal Mart knock-off shorts, spandex, and my white v-neck, and I felt judged. Everyone else was pretty much naked, in tiny dancer shorts or just spandex, but they looked nothing like me. Maybe it was because it was a dance class, and not a weight-room, but I was mortified. Okay, it wasn’t that big a deal, but I’m pretty pissed.

Working out is all about a look. Okay, for some people it’s about health, but for me it’s about a look. I either want to look like I work out in my body shape or my clothes, and it’s definitely not gonna be my body shape at this point, so it has to be my clothes. And here, no one cares. I guess that’s good for me, but I’m pretty salty I put in so much effort for nothing.

Whatever, I hate working out.

xoxo
Kam

An Open Letter to My Father

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Dear Dad,

It’s been 5 and a half years since you died, and every time I think about it the idea becomes more and more abstract. Last night I think you “came to me” in a dream. I don’t think I ever believed stuff like that happened, but it felt very real to me last night.
It’s not the first time I’ve had a dream about you after your death. I used to dream about you coming back to life somewhat frequently. Like you would walk through the front door and have never been dead. Those dreams always hit me hard emotionally, but they never felt real. I don’t even remember everything that happened in my dream last night, but it felt real in the most trivial way. I was laying next to you and you commented on my nose ring. I don’t even remember what you said. I just remember that little scene, and waking up soon after. I just got my nose ring two months ago, so it was as if you were seeing me in real time, and being here.
I wish I could remember more of what happened, what you said to me. I know I woke up feeling raw, like you had just come to visit me at college and then left again too soon. The hardest part I struggle with is feeling like I don’t even know who you were. I was a week away from 13 when you died. I was old enough surely to understand the whole idea of death and to remember you, of course. But why is it that whenever someone asks me, “What would your dad say about that?” I don’t know how to answer? Why does it feel like I didn’t know you that well? Why is it hard for me to remember where you were or what you did when I think about memories before you died? It’s not fair. I was just a kid. I didn’t get a chance to really screw up and have you teach me a lesson from it. I didn’t get to have you through high school, and hardly middle school. If you did really appear to me last night, why is this the first time it’s felt this real? Where were you when I needed you?
Is this even real?
xoxo
kam

Ode to Joan Rivers

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Last week the world lost one of the best comedians of all time, in my opinion, Joan Rivers. If you’re an avid reader of my blog it shouldn’t take you long to figure out why I love her so much. She was a bitch. I’m a bitch. We could’ve been great friends, I’m sure of that. Hearing the news a fews weeks ago that she had gone into cardiac arrest was shocking, and watching the news unfold- medical induced coma, life support, death, was devastating.

I’m not one to get emotionally attached to celebrities, but I did feel very sad at this loss, especially the reactions that followed. All the celebrities that gave statements had very kind words for Joan. They joked about how it wouldn’t be the same wearing silly outfits if she wasn’t around to mock them. They praised her career and the impact she had on comedy for women and for the whole world. You could tell these friends of hers were deeply saddened by her death. Then there were the people who didn’t know her.

I saw horrible posts on tumblr and twitter about how Joan was a homophobe, racist, transphobe, who deserved to die. These posts were from people who constantly post about feminism and wanting equality. They were celebrating the death of a “bully.” This enraged me, not only because I worship Joan, but also because of how wrong these people are.

Joan Rivers made a lot of jokes. It was her job. She was a comedian. She made people laugh. Yes, a lot of her jokes were offensive, but they were jokes. That does not mean she hated people. How could she be a homophobe? She ran Fashion Police. Without gays she would hardly have had a job. That’s not true, but you see my point. She made a lot of jokes about plastic surgery and we ALL know she loved that.

Not only was she making jokes, but according to all her peers, she was full of kindness. I believe that. Not one celebrity who knew Joan had a mean thing to say about her. She had love in her heart for her family and friends.

If I haven’t convinced you yet, I’m just getting started. Joan knew pain. She did not have it easy coming into the business. Sure she gained success fairly quickly early on, working for Johnny Carson. But as soon as she was offered her own show, a huge career advancement, she was blackballed by NBC for leaving Carson. 25 years she was hardly able to show her face on the network because she chose to have her own success. That didn’t stop her though, obviously. she built her own empire without them. If that’s not an empowered woman, I don’t know what is.

Beyond that, she knows pain. Her own husband killed himself. Sure, there are obviously people who have had it way worse than Joan Rivers, but she is undeniably a fighter, and a hard worker, and has paid her dues for the respect she deserves. And she can laugh about it. That’s why I love Joan is because she laughs through the pain. She makes jokes to get through. That’s what I do. Sure, that’s not everyone’s style, but it was hers, and the attacks people are making on her are uneducated, ridiculous, and rude. Forget everything I just said, and think about her family that is dealing with her death. The loss of a mother, a grandmother. Think about them reading tweets saying “Ding dong the bitch is dead.” have a little class, people. Let the woman rest in peace. I love you, Joan. Rest easy, you crazy bitch.

xoxo,
kam

How Ignorant are You

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Let’s talk about race. First of all, I cannot comprehend how there it is 2014 and still there is still so much hate in the world. It’s estimated that humanity has been in existence for about 200,000 years, yet we’re still bickering about things like the color of our skin.

Let the record show that I am a half black, half white teenage girl from New Jersey. I’m not from the low country where it’s still a thing to proudly fly a confederate flag. But I have been down there and I swear we lost a lot of those states before Gettysburg. Yes I am saying they are stuck in the pre-Civil War era. Sure they may not approve of slavery now, but they kind of act like. The whole slavery thing isn’t about getting work done for free. It’s about oppression. And that aspect of it is still alive and thriving in the south and in the world. Of course I have to say the world because it’s not just black vs. white it’s every color possible against each other.
Can we just think about something for a minute? Racism doesn’t even make sense. I can somewhat understand religious wars, land wars, even the freaking Trojan War better than I can understand the race war. Because all those other things are things you can change. I want you to believe what I believe so I’m gonna kill your family until you believe me. That is wrong and ridiculous, but it’s at least somewhat valid.
Naturally, we cannot change our skin colors. I was born this way, you were born that way. Simple. The whole racism thing came into play because of a power struggle I suppose. A sect of people “needed” to establish dominance, so they picked something the oppressed couldn’t change to use as a weapon against them. How effed up is that?
Moving back to the present.. How can people still think this is okay? I could get into how colonialism destroyed all of Africa and a lot of Asia for hundreds of years, but let’s just talk about America. This is a country founded on the belief that we are all equal. Yes, the men who wrote that still had salves, but they didn’t know any better. And that’s a lame excuse but it was culturally accepted 200 years ago. 200 years ago. Yes we’re over slavery, but are we over its purpose? We’re still oppressing each other. I say we because yes being part black makes me oppressed but black people can be guilty of oppressing other races and/or each other.
I saw a political cartoon describing this idea where a white man is trying to get to the top of a tree. He uses a black man as a ladder and climbs to the tree. Then the white man realizes he shouldn’t use the black man like this so he tells him he can climb the tree too. But he doesn’t hand the black man a ladder. America.

Too Young to Know

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There is nothing I hate more than listening to depressed teenagers. This country’s teens are caught up in this weird pandemic where they all think they’re depressed and their lives are over and they need to cut themselves because other people are cutting and it all just needs to stop.

I know that depression is a real diagnoseable problem, and I feel sad for the people that live with it. However, I’m not sure I can honestly believe it is diagnoseable in teenagers. Teens get depressed, we’re under a lot of pressure almost 100% of the time. But there are ways to deal with that other than shutting ourselves down which is what I think too many of us are doing.
I’ve been there. Trust me, my freshman year, I was the definition of angsty teenager. I didn’t think I had friends so I let that run me and now I can see clearly I wasted so much time feeling sorry for myself and I look back on that time and laugh at how ridiculous I was. The feelings were real. I don’t doubt that at all. But coincidentally at the time I was just starting to feel so awful, I was introduced to tumblr. Now I love tumblr, it’s a great website there’s a lot of good things about it, but that was not the side I found at first. I found people who felt just like me and were so angsty and depressed and the world was out to get them, and I bought right into it.
Tumblr didn’t make me a cutter, I made me a cutter. In retrospect, it didn’t make sense. At all. I hated the pain of it, I hated trying to hide scars, but I finally felt like I fit in with some group of people. People who were depressed. So that’s how I identified myself.
Long story short I quit cutting after maybe 3 months and 6 scars. I still can’t explain why I started but I knew why I quit. It was stupid. And now I look at people who do it way more than I did and it pisses me off. Stop it! Why are you doing that! I read something when I was cutting that said, “You hurt yourself on the outside to see the pain you feel on the inside.” That might be accurate, but it still doesn’t make sense. I understand cutting to kill yourself, when you cut vertically down your wrists. I obviously never did that, and if you’re a loyal reader you know how I feel about suicide, but that has a purpose to it. Recently it all made sense. When someone said to me you cut horizontally to  show and vertically to go. 
 
It’s all a big show. Teenagers today have always had the spotlight on us and the minute it stops shining, which it will for all of us, we freak out. My feelings about my generation are for a different post, but in have a point to this one. Teenagers do this freak out, and they let it ruin their lives, for too many of them end their lives. My freak out didn’t exactly ruin my life, but it sure felt like it. I hated myself, and I pray I never feel so bad again, but it was temporary. And I want every teen who feels like this to know it is temporary. There’s the cliché anti-suicide groups use that says, “don’t fix a temporary problem with a permanent solution.” I hate clichés, but this one is very meaningful. There’s so many teen suicides today because all these teens are letting their freak outs get the best of them. How could you end your life when your life has hardly begun? 
 
I can somewhat sympathize with adults who kill themselves. They’ve lived longer and had more failures and for them it’s not likely that things will change so much that their situations get 100% better. For teenagers, it actually can get better. It doesn’t for everyone I acknowledge that, but everything in your teen years is temporary. Problems with your parents? You’re moving out in 5 years or less! Hate your school? You’re leaving in 4 years or less! No friends? You can go somewhere else as soon as you turn 18! Just before you let a feeling of sadness or depression decide how you’re going to live. Think about yourself a year from now. Or two years. However long it’s going to take for something to definitely change. I can guarantee it won’t be long. So buck up, and stop being angsty teens.
Xoxo
Kam

Die Young

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I am writing this tonight following the tragic death of actor Paul Walker of “Fast and the Furious” fame. I want to start by saying I have never seen any of those movies but may he rest in peace and his and the other passenger’s family and friends are in my prayers.

So whenever something like this happens- a famous person dies suddenly and the whole world seems to react. People tweet, Facebook, Instagram, whatever else just to express condolences and our own sadness. Then there’s always this other group of people who freak out because everyone “cares” when someone famous dies but no one thinks about the other million people that died that day- most of the time these people are talking about soldiers, but in general they’re pissed. Can I just say, calm down.
Let’s look at the facts. Apparently about 155,000 people die every day. Today, one of those people happened to be a famous actor. Is it fair that 1 person out of the 155,000 got thousands of tweets about him? No. But is that to say none of the other 149,999 people got their respects paid? No.
What I’m trying to get across is that when someone famous dies everyone reacts because they have a connection to him or at least they feel like they do. Of course most of the people reacting don’t know him on a personal level, but in a way he was a part of their lives. We don’t tweet about every single person who dies because we don’t know they’re dying and we have no connection to them. Yes it is very sad. But we can’t spend our days crying for the thousands of people that die everyday. If you’re related to all those people yes then by all means mourn, but since you don’t, be thankful and be respectful for those who are related to them.
Think about what you’re saying. No it’s not fair that te men and women dying for our country don’t get all this attention when they die, but would they want it? Being famous is kind of a choice. If you want the world to cry for your death you have to be someone everyone wants to pay attention to. But even if this still angers you, do not disrespect the loss of a famous person. They’re still people with the same loved ones as the soldiers. Does this make sense? Just realize what you’re saying, and please just let people rest in peace.
Xoxo
Kam

Keep Fighting

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There have been endless amounts of times in my life where giving up looked like my only way out. In fact, there are many times I have given up, but generally they were all minor things. What I want you all to hear is this: don’t give up. Everything you might be going through or living is temporary no matter what it is. So you might as well put on your big girl panties and deal with it.

You might say, “But Kamaron! I’m terminally ill!” Hello? You’re still alive aren’t you?! You can’t give up even when you’re dying because giving up means you’re dead. Naturally, we are not the ones who decide when we are going to die- no matter what you believe. So if you find out you are currently dying (which in reality we all are), why would you quit then? Whoever decides our time to go has said “It’s not your time to go,” so don’t make him regret it.
Which brings me to the question of suicide. Let me speak freely: I think suicide is the most selfish, weakest thing a human being can do. I understand depression. I even understand clinical depression. But to think that your life is so much harder than the rest of us that you feel like you need to put your family and friends through hell is beyond me. There is always help available to you. No one understands you, I get it. But if you’re thinking about pulling the trigger, think about someone besides yourself.
Don’t give up. This world has so much to offer. I get hard times. I get feeling trapped by a situation, but listen: there are better situations. I’m not gonna tell you to think about kids starving in Africa and how you have it so much better than them because I don’t think that’s helpful. But think about all the different places in this world- the different opportunities surrounding you. Nothing is so imprisoning that you cannot figure out some way to change it. Just don’t give up it makes you look bad.
Be real.
Kam

The Beginning of The End: An Introduction to My Life, MY Story, My Blog

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Tonight is the eve of the first day of my senior year. This summer marked my transition into adulthood as I had my first 9-5 job, drove myself around, and regretted spending so much money when I have bills to pay. All I can say is what a long, strange trip it’s been. Everything I’ve heard about senior year from TV and movies is that it’s supposed to be the best year of your life, and you have fun and do no school work. My question is: when exactly does that start happening? Junior year was hell. I feel like I did no work freshman and sophomore year and junior year I did the work of all those years combined. And now it’s senior year, and I should be relaxing, but here I am freaking out about all the different things I have to worry about. Job, money, college, SATs, GPAs, it’s too much. My favorite part is all the people that say things like, “Oh I know you’re probably tired of hearing it but what are your plans for college?” Like, if you know I’m tired of hearing that question why would you ask it? I have my answer perfectly memorized, “Oh I’m looking at x school for y program in z-town.” And their generic answers just as perfectly rehearsed: “Oh that’s great, good for you! What a great school!” Well, I haven’t gotten in yet. I have about 8 trillion things to do and a million people nagging me about it so, if you’ll let me be on my way…

This is such a weird phase of life. My emotions are caught up in this whirlwind of fear and excitement and worry, and I don’t really know what to do with them. So here I am, starting a blog about it. This blog isn’t really going to be about school, that, I suppose, will play into it, but I’m really here to share my thoughts, opinions, and life stories. My thoughts are mostly offensive, and my opinions are normally unpopular, but if you’re not afraid of either of those things, you’ve come to the right place. I think I’m funny, and some other people think I’m funny, so maybe the internet will think I’m funny too. I’m at this point in my life where I am never too concerned with offending people because I love myself and people need to be able to take a joke. If you can take a joke, please continue keeping up with me and my blog, and I will try to keep this updated as much as possible. As you can tell, I’m gonna be a little busy the next few months.

Love me!

XOXO,
Kamaron