I started this blog on October 31st, 2010 with the intention of chronicling my college experiences. A month into my freshmen year I new barely anything about what this thing called college meant. Now, it is May 30, 2011 and it has been 7 months since I first began my journey. My freshman year is coming to a close and on June 8th the last of my belongings will be shoved down a mail shoot and sent back to California with me following a week later. I have grown a lot over the last 7 months. I have matured in ways I didn't know were possible. I have made amazing friends and had hilarious/exciting/scaring/confusing revelations with them at my side.
This blog, however, would be useless without the 1500 views that I have amassed over the last 7 months. If my calculations are correct (which they very well may not be) then that means on average 7 people have viewed my blog each day. I couldn't have dreamed that 7 people would even care enough to read it once. To have such an audience for my blog is a dream. Keep reading, my blog seems to get better with time!! So here's to you, whether you've read it once or are regular readers, thanks a bundle! Tell your friends, tell your enemies, tell your mothers (if they won't be offended by the title like my mother is)... Spread the word. LETS START A REVOLUTION. Just kidding. Well, sort of.
As I have said, I am blown away by the reaction people have had to my blog. To give thanks to them, I'm going to share some choice excepts of what they said to me about it. All anonymous, of course.
"Hope college is treating you well. As facebook does, it reconnects me with people who I haven't talked to in a while! So I stumbled upon your page and saw that you have a blog. So I began to read. I just wanted to say, I LOVE your post on short hair. Having short hair is pretty awesome and I like your comments on stereotypes about lesbians." (Then she goes on an quotes me! How trippy is that!)
"WOW!!!!! I just read some of your blog posts. "college is well, one of those things" is ready to be published, and should be right this second. Keep up your awesome blog. I see a book out of this. I would soooooooo buy this book for any highschool graduate. Don't mean to freak you out but I'm a reader, especially of this kind. You hit such an honest amazing place. It is few people that can really do that. Anyway, just wanted to share my thoughts about you with you!!
I'll be looking forward to all your brave, personal, and very witty posts!!"
"Wow, i have never bothered reading your stuff before, or been turned off by the title if it seemed too intense or depressing, etc. But this is excellent. I expected something caustic, but what I found was funny, clever, and well written. Good stuff" (thank you?...)
"Well...I'm Happy and your deep vein thrombosis almost made me laugh hard enough to cause DVT. Missed your blog but the wait was worth it :)"
"I came home last night and read your post. It was awesome. You are such a great writer, really."
So here's my deal, readers out there. I'll keep postin' and you keep readin'!!
Monday, May 30, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
A Fairytale
Once upon a time-- because all stories must begin like that-- there was a princess-- because who doesn't like princesses. This was a special princess. Her parents, being the king and queen after all, had built their castle by the sea. The princess’s kingdom worshipped the ocean. One week every year the whole kingdom would flock to the coast for a huge festival to celebrate the power and majesty of the sea. There was live music and art and food and everything a proper festival should have. And on the last day of the festival everyone would cleanse themselves and as the sun hit the horizon the people would mob to the water.
During this festival, people would find that the wild of the sea would whip up a passion inside them that could only be quenched by the rush of the waves the roll of the surf. Back then people respected their bodies. They respected each other’s bodies. And in such a heated passion brought on by the sea, it was not uncommon for people to find love. So once a year, on the last day of the festival, they would indulge themselves. Everyone in the surf, their nude bodies moving with the rhythm of the waves. Because on this day, under the light of the fleeting sun, everyone was equal.
Every year the King and Queen would ride out from their castle to the shore on the last day of the festival. And with their loyal subjects would move across the sun baked sand until little fingers of sea foam would curl around their toes, enticing them to come closer, to walk farther into the crashing waves. It was on one of these momentous, end of the festival days that the princess was conceived.
When someone’s life begins with such magnificence it is hard to imagine that their life would be anything but wonderful. And for the princess it was. As a young girl it was obvious she was very bright. She was unconventionally intelligent. She liked things like the little creatures that could be found hidden under rocks. Or the way her mom’s hair curled when she first stepped out of the shower. The splay of her own toes as they squished between the sand or the way the wind could change her perception of a tousled flower.
As the princess grew her parents gave her free reign to do anything she pleased. She was a good girl who didn’t do anything wrong and she had the inclination for adventure. This was back in a time where people were polite so there was no risk for the princess to get hurt. No one would dare think to harm an innocent little girl.
The princess spent most of her youth by the sea. She had an innate connection to the ocean, and she could feel herself pulled to the soft surf almost every day. People who knew her well often observed that she herself was much like the ocean.
One day, on one of the princess’s many strolls along the beach she saw a sight not often seen of this part of the coast. Looking nervously back in the direction of her parent’s castle she hesitantly took another step forward towards this mysterious object. A giant ship loomed ahead, just off the coast, its sails waving ominously in the wind. Its fat hull floated in the water, barnacles clinging to its grey sides.
The princess was immediately intrigued. There was a port farther south that she often took day trips to. To watch captains shriek orders to incompetent ship mates as they pulled rich cargo from the ships. Lace and silk and spices and jewelry to be traded in the market place. But in all of her observations of the port, she had never seen a ship quite like this one. It was clearly once a cargo ship. Certainly not a naval ship, for it was far less conventional. So what was it? And furthermore, why was it here and not docking in the southern port? The princess deemed it her job to find out.
The princess waded into the waves, the water quickly soaking through her clothes and weighing her down. But the princess was a fast and adept swimmer and as she waded further into the ocean, she began to take long, easy strokes. As she approached the ship it became even more apparent to the princess that this was no ordinary vessel. She quickened her stroke and the closer she got the louder voices could be heard from on board. Just like at the southern port, there were orders being yelled at various crew members by one voice. The particulars of these orders were still indistinguishable over the lapping water and the pounding in the princess’s ears as her excitement mounted. When she reached the ship her arms had grown tired and the weight of her sopping clothes was beginning to wear on the princess.
Improvising and knowing that she was catching whoever was on board utterly by surprise, she grabbed a hold of the nearest barnacle and began to climb up the hull. It may seem an impractical way to board a ship, but the princess was strong and determined to know what was going on.
She reached the top of the ship’s side and hoisted herself over the edge, landing among unmarked cargo sitting on the deck, completely unnoticed by the busy crewmen. Immediately the princess knew who these men were. They were pirates. But the princess was not afraid. In this story, the princess can’t be afraid of much, because she’s the hero, and the hero never dies.
In a wave of courage, the princess boldly stood up from her hiding place among the cargo. And in an un-climatic sort of way, all the crewmen kept working. The princess gave a sort of slight cough to see if anyone would notice a young woman suddenly popping out from nowhere. Nope. Frustrated at the lack of excitement amassed by a ship full of undoubtedly evil and probably smelly pirates the princess again took matters into her own hands.
She boldly walked to the middle of the ship deck, turned around to where all the pirates were working, tying knots in rope and pulling on sails and doing all manner of pirate things, and let out a long shrill whistle.
Suffice to say, this got the pirates attention. Knots unraveled, sails were let lose, and the pirates stood staring at the small frame of what appeared to them to be a very wet little girl. For the first time, probably since the pirates began inhabiting this ship, the entire vessel was completely silent. Only the flapping of a lose sail could be heard over head as the princess and the crew of pirates stood bewildered, staring directly at each other. A gruff pirate, who could’ve been Hagrid’s long lost son, finally broke the silence. With a bit of a cough he said something utterly incomprehensible and pulled out a long sword from his brown hilt.
The princess stumbled backward, as the gruff pirate stepped forward clutching his blade. Afraid for her life she couldn’t help but to give a pitiful yelp as she fell over her wet clothing. Her sudden collapse in the middle of the pirate ship’s deck startled the pirates almost as much as it did the princess, and a bedraggled pirate gasped as the princess toppled clumsily over.
Clearly speechless the princess sat dazed as she imagined all the wretched things she imagined pirates were capable of. She had heard of people walking the plank or getting keel hauled or getting drawn and quartered, and although the princess didn’t exactly know the details of these operations, they certainly didn’t sound like pleasant, princessy type things.
The gruff pirate took another step toward the princess and gesticulated with his sword. He incoherently muttered a few syllables that the princess didn’t understand a word of. The princess, uncertain, shook her head, thinking whatever he was asking, she didn’t want to agree with anything a pirate said.
At this point there came a long cackle from behind the princess and the pirates stood at attention—or at least as much at attention as an unruly group of heathens ever could. “Don’t worry about him dear, his bark is worse than his bite, and to be honest his bark isn’t much to talk about.” At this, the princess scrambled around to see where the voice had come from. One thing should be noted about this particular voice—it was a woman’s.
A woman pirate? The princess thought. How odd. As far as she was aware she didn’t know of any women pirates. Then again, until now she hadn’t known of any pirates, outside of fairy tales, until today.
The voice spoke again, “Who are you?” and as she spoke she revealed herself, a tall, raven haired pirate mistress. Now to be honest, I don’t know what color raven hair is, and neither did the princess. But, all sexy women are described as having raven hair, and the pirate mistress WAS sexy. She was wearing maroon pantaloons and a white silk blouse that moved with the wind. She had what appeared to the princess to be more jewelry slung around her neck and wrists then in all the vaults of her own castle. How someone could still stand straight in that much gold, silver, and precious gems was quite a feat of strength, and the pirate mistress did it with a certain amount of flair. The pirate mistress was quite beautiful, even more beautiful than the Queen who everyone in the kingdom always said was the most beautiful woman in all of history. She was frightfully tall and thin like a rail. With the kind of figure that would make Jessica Rabbit green with envy. Her hair was short, clipped into a tight bob that made working as a pirate easier. At one time the pirate mistress had grown her hair past her waist, but found that it mostly was a frightful maintenance, got in the way, and she always had dreadful bed head in the morning.
The princess knew that the pirate mistress was no one to trifle with, but for her life she could not answer the pirate mistress’s question. So the pirate mistress asked again, “Who are you?” in a tone befitting the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland. The princess stammered back, “a-a-a princess!”
“Do they really make them this small now a days?” The pirate mistress retorted, snearing.
“I believe they have always been this size. I think it is pretty standard. Although I am not as old as you to make such an accurate conjecture.” The princess quipped.
Clearly offended by the sly poke at the pirate mistress’s age, she changed the subject, “I presume you’ll want to know who we are?”
“You are clearly blood-thirsty pirates,” The princess conjectured, gesturing at a somewhat slack jawed individual.
“Well, not exactly blood-thirsty, m’dear. It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to say cannibalism is part of my repertoire, although I suppose you could argue some habits die hard.”
And then the pirate mistress explained to the princess who these ruffians were. She was their captain, the captain of a crew that had been through hell and a hand basket. They had seen it all. Sea monsters, mutinies, gun battles, pillaging, plundering and everything else that pirates are often apt to doing, as seen in the good bits of the Pirates of the Caribbean series. And their ship, the vessel that had brought them though it all, thick or thin, that was older than the oldest crew member (who was indeed, the princess could vouch, was very very old), was named Misfortune. And the pirate mistress’s name? Was Miss Fortune.
It soon became clear to the princess that these pirates were not rapscallions at all, but fun loving, and more importantly princess loving, hooligans who loved a good drink and a good laugh. The night of the princess’s arrival there was a grand party on the ship, and even the slack-jawed pirate joined in the dancing. As the evening wore on, the gruff pirate told ghost stories, which the princess assumed were supposed to be scary, although she still couldn’t understand a word he said. And the night ended with a rousing round of pirate songs that the bedraggled pirate took care to teach the princess.
As it was far too late to return home now, the princess decided she could sleep on the ship over night and swim home in the early morning, in time for breakfast. As the princess dozed among piles of rich (and probably looted) spools of lace, the ship slowly rocked to and fro, reminding her that the ocean is where she belonged.
The princess awoke early in the morning to the shouts of the pirate mistress calling to the crew. Everyone aboard was running here and there so fast the princess could hardly keep track. But unlike the day before the orders seemed rushed, panicked. The princess turned to the nearest pirate and gasped, “what’s going on?” The stout pirate huffed back “we’ve a problem, lass!” and ran off to fetch something. That’s when the princess looked out across the water. “We’ve got a problem alright—where’s the shore?”
The princess looked fervently around for the shore. She ran across the deck of the ship, dodging pirates left and right, to get to the other side of the vessel but no land was in sight on this side either. The princess, who had been hesitant to admit what she was now quite aware of could no longer avoid the fact that they were no longer anywhere near the shore. As this realization washed over her, she felt something tremble inside of her. Her immediate thought was: Mom? Dad? What are they going to think when they realize I never came home?
The princess gasped and clutched the sides of the boat, looking out into the helpless, hopeless, blue abyss. She swung around and a burly pirate rumbled by her carrying a timber box.
As chaos was engulfing the princess’s consciousness, she became aware that something urgent was happening on board as well. The princess, distracted from her own grief at losing her home and everything she had ever known, tried to catch a pirate’s attention long enough to get some answers. But everyone seemed too busy to be bothered with a lost, troublesome little girl. A lanky pirate looped by with a bundle of rope before the princess could open her mouth and then a freckled pirate brushed past before she could finish, “excuse me but— ?”
Finally the princess caught on to the arm of a bearded pirate and yelled, “WHAT’S GOING ON?” as she ran alongside of the busy bearded pirate. The bearded pirate shoved a heavy box full of tools into the princess’s arms and yelled back, “An attack!! There’s been some damage to the starboard side!” And grabbed a pair of pliers from the tool box before he hurdled down to the lower deck.
The princess found herself panicked again at this new set of information. Not only was she lost as sea, she was going to drown at sea!
In the midst of the chaos, the princess finally spotted the captain, the pirate mistress, calling out orders and looking as swish as ever. Clearly not fazed by the happenings on, she swung from a hanging piece of rope across the deck and landed right in front of the startled princess.
“Not worried are you? She’s an old vessel, but sturdier than anyone I’ve ever captained, I’ll tell you that.”
The princess gave an audible gulp and stared wide-eyed at the pirate mistress. Of course, she was right. The princess was worrying over nothing, her story had just begun, she had had only one adventure, and as we all know, fairy tales have to have multiple adventures.
This is when the princess put on her thinking cap. The kind teachers in school used to tell us to put on, but we never really did because what’s the point in thinking in school when there’s always an answer manual? But as the princess quickly found out, in real life, there IS no answer manual.
The first problem to be addressed was this: Who was attacking the ship? But before the princess could ask she found out—a GIANT GARGANTUAN BEASTLY SEA MONSTER reared up in front of the princess and the pirate mistress and rawred in their faces. This beast rammed its body against the hull of the ship, jostling the vessel until most of the pirates had toppled over.
It was clearly determined to sink the ship, and the princess was clearly destined to save it. Without a moment’s hesitation, the princess climbed up the mast until she reached eye level with the writhing sea creature.
“EXCUSE ME!” The princess yelled, “What are you DOING???”
The sea monster whirled around to face the young princess. “What does it look like I’m doing? Tormenting sea-farers!”
“But why?” the princess begged desperately
“I’m a sea monster, that’s what we do. We are legendary at capsizings, drowning, sinkings, the like.”
“But why?” the princess asked again. “Isn’t there something you’d like to do MORE than torment sea-farers that wouldn’t kill innocent people? Didn’t you ever dream of doing something incredible?”
The sea monster paused for a moment. Then the moment turned into a minute and then minute turned into several and before long the sea creature was really pondering this question. Finally it cracked a crooked smile across its scaly sea monster face and said, “you know, I’ve always liked the food network” and without another word, slithered back into the sea, to go perfect the art of French cooking.
The princess had saved the pirates! She had saved herself! She climbed down from the mast, and returned to the group of now awed pirates. The princess, it was clear to them now, was very special indeed. The pirates mended the damage the culinary sea monster had done and continued on their way, across the sea.
The princess spent many moons—a common measurement in stories—with the crew of Misfortune. After spending all these many moons with the pirates sailing across the sea, the pirate mistress approached the princess. “We are coming up on the other side of the sea and you’ve been with us many moons now. I’ve noticed lately that you seem more subdued than usual.” This was quite true—the princess had taken to looking forlornly out across the deep blue sea. She was starting to long for adventure past the solid sides of the ship’s hull. “I think” the pirate mistress continued, “that it is time you found your destiny on shore.”
The princess thanked the pirate mistress for her encouraging words. As she readied her belongings, the pirate mistress gave her three gifts: a small row boat to get to shore, a sword to practice her swordsmanship with, and a small crème colored lace handkerchief. “this will come in handy one day” the pirate mistress said in regards to the last gift.
The princess was filled with sadness at the loss of her dear pirate friends, as she rowed away in her little boat. She looked back at the ship one last time to see the gruff pirate clutching the bedraggled pirate, weeping profusely into his bedraggled pirate shoulder. The stout pirate waved, and the slack jawed pirate stood staring off at her. The princess could not see the pirate mistress but she could hear her voice shouting orders as usual.
But as the princess paddled along, a dark figure passed under her dingy making the small boat rock. The princess looked into the water as the dark figure passed under her boat ominously. As the princess paddled along, the dark figure in the depths of the ocean rose to the surface, revealing itself. The princess sighed in relief as the sea monster that previously tormented sea farers like her pirate friends popped out from under water. She had once convinced that very same sea monster not to attack her and her friends on the pirate ship and instead to explore the world of culinary arts.
“Wait princess! You can’t leave until you try my new recipe! Paula Dean was right, it is SO much better with four cubes of butter, instead of one!”
The sea monster was right, the food was good, but after her meal the princess had to continue rowing to shore. It was no time to dilly dally with her destiny awaiting her.
The princess finally reached the shore after a long day of paddling. She pulled the boat to dry sand and collapsed to the ground. The princess was so tired, too tired to move. She slept right where she lay.
She was awoken by a thud in the sand near her left shoulder. She looked at the place to find a harpoon spear sticking out of the sand. She leapt to her feet and swung around, trying to find the origin of this threat. It was only a moment before she knew—a figure was hurdling at her full speed, another harpoon held above his head ready to be thrown.
“Stop!” she screamed and ducked as the second spear flew past her head. Out of amo, the man ran at the princess and tackled her into the sand with a gallant “ARGH!” They scrambled in the sand, the princess throwing kicks and punches at her attacker. One strike to the stranger’s ear sent him flying off her, into the sand. She rolled over and jumped up as the attacker lay on the ground, cupping his ear.
“What the FUCK?” The princess demanded, decidedly ignoring her proper upbringing to not swear.
The stranger turned away from the princess, still clasping his injured ear. “The ear is a cheap shot” the man grumbled.
“A cheap shot???” the princess shrieked. “And throwing a harpoon at my HEAD isn’t???” But before she could say anything else, the man rolled over to face her and she got a good look at his face.
Oh. Oh? Ohhhhh. The princess thought. He was beaaaauuutiiifullll. I think the term is dreamy. He was dreamy. Orlando Bloom dreamy. Ryan Gosling dreamy. Seth Myers dreamy. Any words that the princess had prepared to yell at this handsome man got stuck in her throat, along with what felt like her heart.
Her stomach did a little dance, on account of its surprise to find butterflies fluttering around her abdomen. Her cheeks flushed and her hands started sweating, both bodily reactions the princess was not accustomed to.
She realized that these were the symptoms of the smoldering embers of desire. The princess had grown into a young woman during her time on the pirate ship and suddenly she was quite aware of her womanhood, in the presence of this stranger.
Like many females faced with a new found crush the first semi-rational thought the princess had was: for Christ sake, whatever you do, play it cool. She wasn’t exactly used to being attracted to anyone. There weren’t a lot of eligible bachelors among the crew of the crusty pirates. Oh no, he was different than anyone she had ever encountered. Like a dream. Like a wish come true--
The princess gave a slight cough as she forced her thoughts back to reality. She shuffled her feet in the soft sand, unsure of where to go from here, with this hot stud writhing on the ground from a cuff to the ear SHE had given him.
“Um. I’m sorry if I hurt you. It’s just that… well you frightened me”
The man stood up and brushed himself off, saying, “s’ok”. That’s when he looked up and met her gaze for the first time and the princess realized she was in risk of making some VERY unwise decisions. And the man felt similarly.
It was time for some proper introductions. The princess introduced herself as a member of the royal court from across the sea, although she didn’t specify WHICH member of the royal court she was. She wasn’t stupid. She might be handy with a pirate sword, but she wasn’t willing to risk underestimating this man, even IF he had the cheek-bones of James Franco.
In turn he introduced himself. He was born and raised on this side of the sea, and had never visited the side the princess was from. Both his parents had been peasants, but had died at the hands of the evil king, leaving him with no one, and nothing. His name, she found out, was Angelus. And anyone who has ever seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of my facebook statuses from the last four weeks knows this is a blatant reference to that show. After being orphaned, Angelus moved to the coast to become a sailor, only to find out that there was a lack of honest sea-faring opportunities. So he ended up camping on the beach, with nothing and no one, and plenty of time to brood. And like any proper dreamboat, he had perfected the art of brooding.
Well, suffice it to say, the princess had heard enough. At some point, she stopped listening to the details of what he was saying, and just listened to the soothing sound of his voice. She let him ramble on for quite some time and after a while she closed her eyes, immersed in some fantasy about traveling around the world with this Hollywood look-a-like. She was wrenched out of her day dream when she felt his mouth against hers.
Silence, for the first time, had engulfed the two people. But it didn’t feel silent to the princess. It felt like everything was screaming. The breeze brushed against her ears with heightened velocity. The waves seemed to crash harder, with more passion. Her entire body became suddenly hyper aware of every stimulus.
She opened her eyes and pulled away, mouth slightly ajar. At this point the sun had started to set and it was good, because the princess was quite flushed. She hoped he hadn’t noticed in the sun’s fleeting rays
She could see him smiling and he reached over and pulled her close. The princess didn’t know what to do with her limbs exactly. Her arms seemed too long and always in the way. And her elbows extra pointy. And her knees extra knobby. He didn’t seem to notice any of the princess’s confusion as he kissed the top of her head. The place where his lips had graced her noggin felt warm, like it was extra special, extra loved. She wanted her whole body to feel like that. She wanted every inch of skin to feel warm and special. She looked up at him. Then she looked away, embarrassed. She was NOT about to ask him to kiss every inch of her. She could only hope.
Night fell over them quietly, like a silk blanket, slipping softly over them. They lay on their backs and watched stars spring up from every direction in the cloudless sky. They listened to the ocean waves come and go, in time with their breathing. They breathed in the soft salt air, filling their lungs. And after a time they drifted to sleep.
The night was long and short at the same time. The princess felt Angelus against her, and felt at home. As at home as she ever felt when she actually was at home. His arms tangled around hers, not even minding how sharp her elbows were or how long they seemed. His knees pressed against hers and didn’t care if they were knobby.
But something strange happened in the night. The princess woke up and Angelus’s arms were no longer tangled and his knees no longer pressed. Angelus was gone, and so were all the princess’s belongings.
The princess looked around. Her bag, her sword, and her boat were gone. The only thing she had was what she was wearing and the lace handkerchief that the pirate mistress had given her. The princess sat in the sand and looked out at the ocean. Great, she thought. I’m an entire ocean away from my home, with nothing but a dumb handkerchief.
The pirate mistress had said that this handkerchief would come in handy, and the princess thought that it was about time it started pulling its weight. It seemed like a regular handkerchief to her. It was lace and white and kind of average-sized. Why did the pirate mistress think that this stupid handkerchief would be useful. The princess threw away the handkerchief. It blew sadly in the wind, landing in the sand nearby. Immediately the princess felt bad about throwing it away. It might be a useless handkerchief, but it was her only belonging, and as such she kinda wanted it around. She went and picked it up and stuffed it back into her pocket.
The princess felt like sulking. Hard core sulking. But she knew that sulking wasn’t going to get her anywhere and the fucker had taken all her food. Hungry, pissed, and newly motivated the princess decided to head inland.
Past the beach was a forest full of tall trees, and unknown adventures. She walked briskly into the forest looking for any signs of life, or any signs of food. Soon she stumbled on some berries and ate her fill of the ripe fruit before traveling on.
There were lots of animals in the forest the princess had never seen before. She was unsure of what they were called, or if any of them were dangerous, but she tried to avoid anything large and hairy or small and scaly. Or large and scaly, if such a terrifying creature exists.
At one point the princess felt like she was being watched. She looked around, but it was futile. The forest was dark and full of hidden locations where things could watch her unnoticed. The princess tried to brush off the feeling and keep going but after a while she heard a rustling in the bushes.
She looked behind her but didn’t see anything so she turned back around and found herself standing in front of the smallest human she had ever seen.
“Hey lady, you’re pretty jumpy.” The little human said. He was wearing a green vest and brown pants that were tattered beyond belief. He was about 2 and a half feet tall.
“Who are you?” The princess said.
“I’m an elf, obviously!” He said exasperated. “You must not be from around here if you don’t know THAT. Jeeezzzz.”
“Well I’m not.” The princess said indignity. He was sassy and she didn’t appreciate that given he was, like, a third her size. She could’ve squashed him just by stepping on him. “And just what are you doing out here anyway?”
“I’m out hunting.” He said pulling out some silver daggers to show the princess. These daggers glinted in the scarce light that penetrated the deep forest. They were magic, elfin crafted, and forged deep in the forest. It was all very mystical and very Lord of the Rings.
The princess was entranced by the shining daggers. The elfin boy caught on to the princess’s fascination with his weapons and he handed her one. “Here, lady, have one. I got plenty and you’re all eying ‘em an’ shit. Jeeeeez.”
The princess took it and held it in her hand. It was light—lighter than she had expected. “Thank you” She said.
But before the small elf could reply with “you’re welcome” A dark shadow fell over them. Something screeched above them—a terrible, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking cry. The princess looked up into the sky but all she saw was black.
“Oh shit” The elf said. The princess looked down to where the elf had been, but he was gone, instantaneously. “Better run, lady” she heard him call from somewhere unknown.
“Oh shit” The princess said, repeating the elf. “Just what I need.”
Another cry penetrated the air that spurred the princess into action. She tripped over branches and fallen trees but the shadow that was being cast over the forest seemed never ending. She heard the sound of horse hooves approaching and she PRAYED that it was a knight in shining armor, not some murdering rapscallion.
The princess spotted the rider from through the trees. As he rode passed, on his black horse, he grabbed the princess and swung her onto the back of the horse. They rode and rode, until finally, after what seemed like an eternity they reached a clearing on a plateau. The princess leaped off the horse as the rider came to a halt.
She landed roughly, tumbling to the ground and lying in the dirt, tired. Tired of being in danger, tired of running, tired of all this adventure. She needed ONE MINUTE of lying down, even if it was in the dirt.
The rider jumped down, and stared down at the crumpled princess. She didn’t look at him. He continued to stare down at the princess. He slipped off his hood, revealing, the princess would’ve been surprised to see, if she had taken the time to look, a crown.
“The dragon is headed our way, it might behoove you to get up and run like hell.”
“Why is he after me?” The princess moaned into the dirt.
“The king sent him. He’s after me.”
“Huh?” the princess said vaguely. And at this she turned around. She found herself looking at this man, who was in fact, she realized, wearing a crown. “Oh shit.” She said. This mother-fucker was the evil king’s son. “Just my luck” the princess muttered and lay back down in the dirt. How did she get here? She thought. Lying helpless in the dirt, with the son of an evil king standing over her.
“Look, my father isn’t the greatest” the prince said. “But I’m not my father. However, I do know my father and I know he sent the dragon to find me and he will find us if we don’t leave now.”
“Forget it” the princess said. “I don’t need saving, nor do I want to be saved.”
A screech could be heard coming nearer the princess and the prince. “Well, you’re in luck” the prince said. “you are about to be not saved.”
And at that moment the dragon swooped over them and landed in front of them. “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” The prince said to the dragon. He got on his horse and looked down at the sad-sap princess. “You know, you could come with me. Palace. Soft beds. Showers. Food. Palace-type things.”
The princess knew plenty about palace-type things and she knew that it had been years since she had experienced any of them. Feeling like nothing could be worse than the dirt she was lying in right now, she got up, mounted the horse, and rode with the prince back to his palace.
The prince took the princess to his palace. It stood on a grey mountain, surrounded by bleak foothills full of dead grass and no living creatures. Besides, of course, the king’s evil pet dragon slash horrible minion. Although the palace looked daunting from outside, the inside was very pleasant.
The prince treated her very well. She was well fed and well dressed and well groomed within the week. He looked at her with faun eyes. Big and deep and brown and caring. He doted on her and she found herself falling for him. And he for her. He loved everything about her. He loved her smile. He loved the arches of her feet and the tip of her nose. He loved the way she fell asleep, slept, and woke up, and couldn’t decide which was his favorite. He loved how sassy she could be when she was tired and how compassionate she could be when she was patient. The way her nose crinkled when she was concentrating.
The princess spent many years with the prince, by his side loyally.
But things happened between them that the princess didn’t understand. That the princess still doesn’t understand. Complications that shouldn’t have arisen, but did anyway. The prince ignored them, he wanted things to be perfect. But the princess knew what the problem was from the very beginning. This wasn’t a love story. This was an adventure story. She didn’t need a knight in shining armor. She was her own hero of her own story.
And it was time for the princess to leave. It was time for the next adventure. She wanted to slip away, quietly. And so she did. She slipped into the night and the prince never saw her again.
He cried for 100 days and 100 nights over his lost love. During that time his mind became dark with grief. And on the 101st day he approached his father, the evil king, with a plan. He told his evil king father he wanted the princess back, dead or alive.
Now the evil king was evil, which I think I’ve already made pretty clear. He saw the goodness in the princess from the very beginning and he didn’t like it, not one bit. He didn’t want some goodie to shoes brown noser inheriting his evil empire and turning into something full of rainbows and unicorns. Unicorns were an endangered species, and it was directly a result of the king’s anti-cute campaign. He was basically a republican.
Suffice it to say, he was quite relieved that she had skipped out on his wanker of a son. So when the prince came to him asking the king to send his dragon to fetch the princess, the king knew he had one more trick up his sleeve.
The princess knew exactly where she would go. Back to the ocean, where she belonged.
She climbed down the mountain. Once she made it to the bottom on the mountains, she began crossing the plateau that led to the forest that would eventually lead her to the ocean. She walked briskly. The sooner she reached the ocean the better.
Suddenly, the princess heard a terrible cry from behind her. She turned around to find the evil king’s dragon hurtling at her, looking as ferocious as ever.
She ducked as the dragon dive-bombed her, clipping her shoulder with his talons. The wound poured blood, and was excruciating. She held her shoulder, noticing the dragon circling over head ready to attack again. The cut was deep, and if the princess didn’t stop the bleeding soon, she knew she would be in trouble. But first things first—the dragon needed to be stopped before he actually took off her arm—or worse, killed her. The princess fumbled for her bag. The dagger which the elf had given her in her travels inside and if she could fend off the dragon long enough to get off the plateau and into the cover of the forest, she might be safe enough to find a way to stop the bleeding in her shoulder.
The dragon dove again, teeth bared and talons out. The princess slashed at the dragon with the dagger and by luck she dug the dagger into the wing of the dragon, seriously injuring it. It spiraled out of control and hit the plateau with a thud.
The princess took this opportunity to run like hell. Finally she reached the edge of the forest. She didn’t think she had killed it, and she didn’t know how long the wing injury would impair it, but she knew she had seriously pissed that dragon off. She didn’t have time, she needed to stop the bleeding on her shoulder. She rummaged in her bag, but the only remotely useful thing she could find was the white lace handkerchief that the pirate mistress had given the princess years ago. The pirate mistress had said that the handkerchief would come in hand one day. The princess hoped today was the day.
She wiped the blood off her shoulder with the white lace. As she wiped the cut with the handkerchief, however, the wound healed before her eyes. The blood stopped flowing, and there wasn’t even a scar where the dragon had attacked her. The princess looked at the lace handkerchief in amazement to find that miraculously the white lace didn’t have a single red blood stain on it. It was still pearly white. There was no trace of blood anywhere.
But this was hardly a time to dilly-dally. The princess could hear the dragon coming towards her in the cover of the forest and she got up and started running.
The wounded dragon soared through the sky at an alarming rate. The princess ran as fast as her feet could take her. She ran and ran, with the dragon screaming above her head. Her only protection was the forest, but the dragon was quickly burning down the surrounding area. At some point her feet didn’t even know where she was going. Her mind raced and she pounded the ground, running, running. As she fled, images whipped through her mind. Her long lost parents, her coastal home, the people she had met in her long, long journey. The pirates, the evil king, the elf, the prince. In this moment, the princess realized her mortality. This odyssey had taken her near and far and now, now it was going to come to an end. Her LIFE was going to end. Tears sprang up in her eyes as she ran, now blinded by fear and tears. She wiped them away, suddenly determined to escape. Her feet didn’t know it, but they quickened their pace.
Over head the dragon shrieked in fury. If it could’ve spoke it would’ve been saying very nasty things about the princess. Its broken wing hindered the dragon’s control, but apparently not its speed. It roared in pain as its broken wing hit the upper branches of the burning forest.
The princess ran for what seemed an eternity, until, quite suddenly she found herself at the coast. In front of her stood the ocean. Her ocean! Somewhere across that sea were her parents, was her home. Home! But here on the shore, the forest stopped, and it was not long before the princess realized she was completely unsheltered.
Within seconds the dragon had caught up with the princess. The princess faced the dragon, its wings beating clumsily high over head. Its mouth smoked and it’s eyes burned. It screamed into the sky and breathed fire above its head raining smoldering ashes down onto the princess. The princess shuddered but stood her ground. She had no energy left to run, and nowhere to run, with the sea on one side and the burning forest on the other.
Then suddenly the princess had an idea. She grabbed the elf’s dagger and flung it at the dragons broken wing dagger flew faster and more aerodynamic then regular daggers, and it hit the dragon right in its heart.
They never tell you this, but a dragon’s heart is made of fire. It is the source of its fire breathing. The heart is the source of everyone’s energy. It holds the fire that burns in everyone. And this dagger extinguished the dragon’s fire. The dragon gave its last screech as it whirled through the sky. It careened through the sky, trying to maintain control, but its heart was mortally wounded. It flew over the ocean, beating its wings helplessly until it crashed towards the sea. The burning dragon’s heart consumed the dragon’s body as it collided with the water.
The heat from the dragon’s blazing heart evaporated the ocean on impact. The entire sea seemed to shrivel up in an instance, in front of the princess’s horrified eyes. The water. The water? The water was… gone? All gone. The ocean had disappeared. The princess’s ocean had disappeared. Her perfect ocean. With the burning forest behind her, the princess fell to the ground. Her ocean! The blue that no longer reflected her eyes. The waves that no longer crashed to the beat of her heart.
Her throat tightened. Her eyes widened. And the princess cried. Tears, small at first trickled down her delicate face. Then they grew bigger. Big elephant tears rolled down her cheeks to splash onto the dry ocean floor. The princess kept crying, tears now streaming down her face, until they were literally flooding her face. And soon enough, her salty tears began to create a pool of water around her. But she didn’t stop. She cried and cried. Plop. Plop. Plop. Each tear adding to the pool of water. Until, the entire ocean had filled with her tears. She had cried an ocean for the disappearance of the ocean, and in that had actually REPLACED the ocean. Her heart leapt in her chest. She had done it. She had killed the evil dragon and saved the ocean.
And now the princess knew, her adventure was over. It was time to go home.
THE END
During this festival, people would find that the wild of the sea would whip up a passion inside them that could only be quenched by the rush of the waves the roll of the surf. Back then people respected their bodies. They respected each other’s bodies. And in such a heated passion brought on by the sea, it was not uncommon for people to find love. So once a year, on the last day of the festival, they would indulge themselves. Everyone in the surf, their nude bodies moving with the rhythm of the waves. Because on this day, under the light of the fleeting sun, everyone was equal.
Every year the King and Queen would ride out from their castle to the shore on the last day of the festival. And with their loyal subjects would move across the sun baked sand until little fingers of sea foam would curl around their toes, enticing them to come closer, to walk farther into the crashing waves. It was on one of these momentous, end of the festival days that the princess was conceived.
When someone’s life begins with such magnificence it is hard to imagine that their life would be anything but wonderful. And for the princess it was. As a young girl it was obvious she was very bright. She was unconventionally intelligent. She liked things like the little creatures that could be found hidden under rocks. Or the way her mom’s hair curled when she first stepped out of the shower. The splay of her own toes as they squished between the sand or the way the wind could change her perception of a tousled flower.
As the princess grew her parents gave her free reign to do anything she pleased. She was a good girl who didn’t do anything wrong and she had the inclination for adventure. This was back in a time where people were polite so there was no risk for the princess to get hurt. No one would dare think to harm an innocent little girl.
The princess spent most of her youth by the sea. She had an innate connection to the ocean, and she could feel herself pulled to the soft surf almost every day. People who knew her well often observed that she herself was much like the ocean.
One day, on one of the princess’s many strolls along the beach she saw a sight not often seen of this part of the coast. Looking nervously back in the direction of her parent’s castle she hesitantly took another step forward towards this mysterious object. A giant ship loomed ahead, just off the coast, its sails waving ominously in the wind. Its fat hull floated in the water, barnacles clinging to its grey sides.
The princess was immediately intrigued. There was a port farther south that she often took day trips to. To watch captains shriek orders to incompetent ship mates as they pulled rich cargo from the ships. Lace and silk and spices and jewelry to be traded in the market place. But in all of her observations of the port, she had never seen a ship quite like this one. It was clearly once a cargo ship. Certainly not a naval ship, for it was far less conventional. So what was it? And furthermore, why was it here and not docking in the southern port? The princess deemed it her job to find out.
The princess waded into the waves, the water quickly soaking through her clothes and weighing her down. But the princess was a fast and adept swimmer and as she waded further into the ocean, she began to take long, easy strokes. As she approached the ship it became even more apparent to the princess that this was no ordinary vessel. She quickened her stroke and the closer she got the louder voices could be heard from on board. Just like at the southern port, there were orders being yelled at various crew members by one voice. The particulars of these orders were still indistinguishable over the lapping water and the pounding in the princess’s ears as her excitement mounted. When she reached the ship her arms had grown tired and the weight of her sopping clothes was beginning to wear on the princess.
Improvising and knowing that she was catching whoever was on board utterly by surprise, she grabbed a hold of the nearest barnacle and began to climb up the hull. It may seem an impractical way to board a ship, but the princess was strong and determined to know what was going on.
She reached the top of the ship’s side and hoisted herself over the edge, landing among unmarked cargo sitting on the deck, completely unnoticed by the busy crewmen. Immediately the princess knew who these men were. They were pirates. But the princess was not afraid. In this story, the princess can’t be afraid of much, because she’s the hero, and the hero never dies.
In a wave of courage, the princess boldly stood up from her hiding place among the cargo. And in an un-climatic sort of way, all the crewmen kept working. The princess gave a sort of slight cough to see if anyone would notice a young woman suddenly popping out from nowhere. Nope. Frustrated at the lack of excitement amassed by a ship full of undoubtedly evil and probably smelly pirates the princess again took matters into her own hands.
She boldly walked to the middle of the ship deck, turned around to where all the pirates were working, tying knots in rope and pulling on sails and doing all manner of pirate things, and let out a long shrill whistle.
Suffice to say, this got the pirates attention. Knots unraveled, sails were let lose, and the pirates stood staring at the small frame of what appeared to them to be a very wet little girl. For the first time, probably since the pirates began inhabiting this ship, the entire vessel was completely silent. Only the flapping of a lose sail could be heard over head as the princess and the crew of pirates stood bewildered, staring directly at each other. A gruff pirate, who could’ve been Hagrid’s long lost son, finally broke the silence. With a bit of a cough he said something utterly incomprehensible and pulled out a long sword from his brown hilt.
The princess stumbled backward, as the gruff pirate stepped forward clutching his blade. Afraid for her life she couldn’t help but to give a pitiful yelp as she fell over her wet clothing. Her sudden collapse in the middle of the pirate ship’s deck startled the pirates almost as much as it did the princess, and a bedraggled pirate gasped as the princess toppled clumsily over.
Clearly speechless the princess sat dazed as she imagined all the wretched things she imagined pirates were capable of. She had heard of people walking the plank or getting keel hauled or getting drawn and quartered, and although the princess didn’t exactly know the details of these operations, they certainly didn’t sound like pleasant, princessy type things.
The gruff pirate took another step toward the princess and gesticulated with his sword. He incoherently muttered a few syllables that the princess didn’t understand a word of. The princess, uncertain, shook her head, thinking whatever he was asking, she didn’t want to agree with anything a pirate said.
At this point there came a long cackle from behind the princess and the pirates stood at attention—or at least as much at attention as an unruly group of heathens ever could. “Don’t worry about him dear, his bark is worse than his bite, and to be honest his bark isn’t much to talk about.” At this, the princess scrambled around to see where the voice had come from. One thing should be noted about this particular voice—it was a woman’s.
A woman pirate? The princess thought. How odd. As far as she was aware she didn’t know of any women pirates. Then again, until now she hadn’t known of any pirates, outside of fairy tales, until today.
The voice spoke again, “Who are you?” and as she spoke she revealed herself, a tall, raven haired pirate mistress. Now to be honest, I don’t know what color raven hair is, and neither did the princess. But, all sexy women are described as having raven hair, and the pirate mistress WAS sexy. She was wearing maroon pantaloons and a white silk blouse that moved with the wind. She had what appeared to the princess to be more jewelry slung around her neck and wrists then in all the vaults of her own castle. How someone could still stand straight in that much gold, silver, and precious gems was quite a feat of strength, and the pirate mistress did it with a certain amount of flair. The pirate mistress was quite beautiful, even more beautiful than the Queen who everyone in the kingdom always said was the most beautiful woman in all of history. She was frightfully tall and thin like a rail. With the kind of figure that would make Jessica Rabbit green with envy. Her hair was short, clipped into a tight bob that made working as a pirate easier. At one time the pirate mistress had grown her hair past her waist, but found that it mostly was a frightful maintenance, got in the way, and she always had dreadful bed head in the morning.
The princess knew that the pirate mistress was no one to trifle with, but for her life she could not answer the pirate mistress’s question. So the pirate mistress asked again, “Who are you?” in a tone befitting the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland. The princess stammered back, “a-a-a princess!”
“Do they really make them this small now a days?” The pirate mistress retorted, snearing.
“I believe they have always been this size. I think it is pretty standard. Although I am not as old as you to make such an accurate conjecture.” The princess quipped.
Clearly offended by the sly poke at the pirate mistress’s age, she changed the subject, “I presume you’ll want to know who we are?”
“You are clearly blood-thirsty pirates,” The princess conjectured, gesturing at a somewhat slack jawed individual.
“Well, not exactly blood-thirsty, m’dear. It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to say cannibalism is part of my repertoire, although I suppose you could argue some habits die hard.”
And then the pirate mistress explained to the princess who these ruffians were. She was their captain, the captain of a crew that had been through hell and a hand basket. They had seen it all. Sea monsters, mutinies, gun battles, pillaging, plundering and everything else that pirates are often apt to doing, as seen in the good bits of the Pirates of the Caribbean series. And their ship, the vessel that had brought them though it all, thick or thin, that was older than the oldest crew member (who was indeed, the princess could vouch, was very very old), was named Misfortune. And the pirate mistress’s name? Was Miss Fortune.
It soon became clear to the princess that these pirates were not rapscallions at all, but fun loving, and more importantly princess loving, hooligans who loved a good drink and a good laugh. The night of the princess’s arrival there was a grand party on the ship, and even the slack-jawed pirate joined in the dancing. As the evening wore on, the gruff pirate told ghost stories, which the princess assumed were supposed to be scary, although she still couldn’t understand a word he said. And the night ended with a rousing round of pirate songs that the bedraggled pirate took care to teach the princess.
As it was far too late to return home now, the princess decided she could sleep on the ship over night and swim home in the early morning, in time for breakfast. As the princess dozed among piles of rich (and probably looted) spools of lace, the ship slowly rocked to and fro, reminding her that the ocean is where she belonged.
The princess awoke early in the morning to the shouts of the pirate mistress calling to the crew. Everyone aboard was running here and there so fast the princess could hardly keep track. But unlike the day before the orders seemed rushed, panicked. The princess turned to the nearest pirate and gasped, “what’s going on?” The stout pirate huffed back “we’ve a problem, lass!” and ran off to fetch something. That’s when the princess looked out across the water. “We’ve got a problem alright—where’s the shore?”
The princess looked fervently around for the shore. She ran across the deck of the ship, dodging pirates left and right, to get to the other side of the vessel but no land was in sight on this side either. The princess, who had been hesitant to admit what she was now quite aware of could no longer avoid the fact that they were no longer anywhere near the shore. As this realization washed over her, she felt something tremble inside of her. Her immediate thought was: Mom? Dad? What are they going to think when they realize I never came home?
The princess gasped and clutched the sides of the boat, looking out into the helpless, hopeless, blue abyss. She swung around and a burly pirate rumbled by her carrying a timber box.
As chaos was engulfing the princess’s consciousness, she became aware that something urgent was happening on board as well. The princess, distracted from her own grief at losing her home and everything she had ever known, tried to catch a pirate’s attention long enough to get some answers. But everyone seemed too busy to be bothered with a lost, troublesome little girl. A lanky pirate looped by with a bundle of rope before the princess could open her mouth and then a freckled pirate brushed past before she could finish, “excuse me but— ?”
Finally the princess caught on to the arm of a bearded pirate and yelled, “WHAT’S GOING ON?” as she ran alongside of the busy bearded pirate. The bearded pirate shoved a heavy box full of tools into the princess’s arms and yelled back, “An attack!! There’s been some damage to the starboard side!” And grabbed a pair of pliers from the tool box before he hurdled down to the lower deck.
The princess found herself panicked again at this new set of information. Not only was she lost as sea, she was going to drown at sea!
In the midst of the chaos, the princess finally spotted the captain, the pirate mistress, calling out orders and looking as swish as ever. Clearly not fazed by the happenings on, she swung from a hanging piece of rope across the deck and landed right in front of the startled princess.
“Not worried are you? She’s an old vessel, but sturdier than anyone I’ve ever captained, I’ll tell you that.”
The princess gave an audible gulp and stared wide-eyed at the pirate mistress. Of course, she was right. The princess was worrying over nothing, her story had just begun, she had had only one adventure, and as we all know, fairy tales have to have multiple adventures.
This is when the princess put on her thinking cap. The kind teachers in school used to tell us to put on, but we never really did because what’s the point in thinking in school when there’s always an answer manual? But as the princess quickly found out, in real life, there IS no answer manual.
The first problem to be addressed was this: Who was attacking the ship? But before the princess could ask she found out—a GIANT GARGANTUAN BEASTLY SEA MONSTER reared up in front of the princess and the pirate mistress and rawred in their faces. This beast rammed its body against the hull of the ship, jostling the vessel until most of the pirates had toppled over.
It was clearly determined to sink the ship, and the princess was clearly destined to save it. Without a moment’s hesitation, the princess climbed up the mast until she reached eye level with the writhing sea creature.
“EXCUSE ME!” The princess yelled, “What are you DOING???”
The sea monster whirled around to face the young princess. “What does it look like I’m doing? Tormenting sea-farers!”
“But why?” the princess begged desperately
“I’m a sea monster, that’s what we do. We are legendary at capsizings, drowning, sinkings, the like.”
“But why?” the princess asked again. “Isn’t there something you’d like to do MORE than torment sea-farers that wouldn’t kill innocent people? Didn’t you ever dream of doing something incredible?”
The sea monster paused for a moment. Then the moment turned into a minute and then minute turned into several and before long the sea creature was really pondering this question. Finally it cracked a crooked smile across its scaly sea monster face and said, “you know, I’ve always liked the food network” and without another word, slithered back into the sea, to go perfect the art of French cooking.
The princess had saved the pirates! She had saved herself! She climbed down from the mast, and returned to the group of now awed pirates. The princess, it was clear to them now, was very special indeed. The pirates mended the damage the culinary sea monster had done and continued on their way, across the sea.
The princess spent many moons—a common measurement in stories—with the crew of Misfortune. After spending all these many moons with the pirates sailing across the sea, the pirate mistress approached the princess. “We are coming up on the other side of the sea and you’ve been with us many moons now. I’ve noticed lately that you seem more subdued than usual.” This was quite true—the princess had taken to looking forlornly out across the deep blue sea. She was starting to long for adventure past the solid sides of the ship’s hull. “I think” the pirate mistress continued, “that it is time you found your destiny on shore.”
The princess thanked the pirate mistress for her encouraging words. As she readied her belongings, the pirate mistress gave her three gifts: a small row boat to get to shore, a sword to practice her swordsmanship with, and a small crème colored lace handkerchief. “this will come in handy one day” the pirate mistress said in regards to the last gift.
The princess was filled with sadness at the loss of her dear pirate friends, as she rowed away in her little boat. She looked back at the ship one last time to see the gruff pirate clutching the bedraggled pirate, weeping profusely into his bedraggled pirate shoulder. The stout pirate waved, and the slack jawed pirate stood staring off at her. The princess could not see the pirate mistress but she could hear her voice shouting orders as usual.
But as the princess paddled along, a dark figure passed under her dingy making the small boat rock. The princess looked into the water as the dark figure passed under her boat ominously. As the princess paddled along, the dark figure in the depths of the ocean rose to the surface, revealing itself. The princess sighed in relief as the sea monster that previously tormented sea farers like her pirate friends popped out from under water. She had once convinced that very same sea monster not to attack her and her friends on the pirate ship and instead to explore the world of culinary arts.
“Wait princess! You can’t leave until you try my new recipe! Paula Dean was right, it is SO much better with four cubes of butter, instead of one!”
The sea monster was right, the food was good, but after her meal the princess had to continue rowing to shore. It was no time to dilly dally with her destiny awaiting her.
The princess finally reached the shore after a long day of paddling. She pulled the boat to dry sand and collapsed to the ground. The princess was so tired, too tired to move. She slept right where she lay.
She was awoken by a thud in the sand near her left shoulder. She looked at the place to find a harpoon spear sticking out of the sand. She leapt to her feet and swung around, trying to find the origin of this threat. It was only a moment before she knew—a figure was hurdling at her full speed, another harpoon held above his head ready to be thrown.
“Stop!” she screamed and ducked as the second spear flew past her head. Out of amo, the man ran at the princess and tackled her into the sand with a gallant “ARGH!” They scrambled in the sand, the princess throwing kicks and punches at her attacker. One strike to the stranger’s ear sent him flying off her, into the sand. She rolled over and jumped up as the attacker lay on the ground, cupping his ear.
“What the FUCK?” The princess demanded, decidedly ignoring her proper upbringing to not swear.
The stranger turned away from the princess, still clasping his injured ear. “The ear is a cheap shot” the man grumbled.
“A cheap shot???” the princess shrieked. “And throwing a harpoon at my HEAD isn’t???” But before she could say anything else, the man rolled over to face her and she got a good look at his face.
Oh. Oh? Ohhhhh. The princess thought. He was beaaaauuutiiifullll. I think the term is dreamy. He was dreamy. Orlando Bloom dreamy. Ryan Gosling dreamy. Seth Myers dreamy. Any words that the princess had prepared to yell at this handsome man got stuck in her throat, along with what felt like her heart.
Her stomach did a little dance, on account of its surprise to find butterflies fluttering around her abdomen. Her cheeks flushed and her hands started sweating, both bodily reactions the princess was not accustomed to.
She realized that these were the symptoms of the smoldering embers of desire. The princess had grown into a young woman during her time on the pirate ship and suddenly she was quite aware of her womanhood, in the presence of this stranger.
Like many females faced with a new found crush the first semi-rational thought the princess had was: for Christ sake, whatever you do, play it cool. She wasn’t exactly used to being attracted to anyone. There weren’t a lot of eligible bachelors among the crew of the crusty pirates. Oh no, he was different than anyone she had ever encountered. Like a dream. Like a wish come true--
The princess gave a slight cough as she forced her thoughts back to reality. She shuffled her feet in the soft sand, unsure of where to go from here, with this hot stud writhing on the ground from a cuff to the ear SHE had given him.
“Um. I’m sorry if I hurt you. It’s just that… well you frightened me”
The man stood up and brushed himself off, saying, “s’ok”. That’s when he looked up and met her gaze for the first time and the princess realized she was in risk of making some VERY unwise decisions. And the man felt similarly.
It was time for some proper introductions. The princess introduced herself as a member of the royal court from across the sea, although she didn’t specify WHICH member of the royal court she was. She wasn’t stupid. She might be handy with a pirate sword, but she wasn’t willing to risk underestimating this man, even IF he had the cheek-bones of James Franco.
In turn he introduced himself. He was born and raised on this side of the sea, and had never visited the side the princess was from. Both his parents had been peasants, but had died at the hands of the evil king, leaving him with no one, and nothing. His name, she found out, was Angelus. And anyone who has ever seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of my facebook statuses from the last four weeks knows this is a blatant reference to that show. After being orphaned, Angelus moved to the coast to become a sailor, only to find out that there was a lack of honest sea-faring opportunities. So he ended up camping on the beach, with nothing and no one, and plenty of time to brood. And like any proper dreamboat, he had perfected the art of brooding.
Well, suffice it to say, the princess had heard enough. At some point, she stopped listening to the details of what he was saying, and just listened to the soothing sound of his voice. She let him ramble on for quite some time and after a while she closed her eyes, immersed in some fantasy about traveling around the world with this Hollywood look-a-like. She was wrenched out of her day dream when she felt his mouth against hers.
Silence, for the first time, had engulfed the two people. But it didn’t feel silent to the princess. It felt like everything was screaming. The breeze brushed against her ears with heightened velocity. The waves seemed to crash harder, with more passion. Her entire body became suddenly hyper aware of every stimulus.
She opened her eyes and pulled away, mouth slightly ajar. At this point the sun had started to set and it was good, because the princess was quite flushed. She hoped he hadn’t noticed in the sun’s fleeting rays
She could see him smiling and he reached over and pulled her close. The princess didn’t know what to do with her limbs exactly. Her arms seemed too long and always in the way. And her elbows extra pointy. And her knees extra knobby. He didn’t seem to notice any of the princess’s confusion as he kissed the top of her head. The place where his lips had graced her noggin felt warm, like it was extra special, extra loved. She wanted her whole body to feel like that. She wanted every inch of skin to feel warm and special. She looked up at him. Then she looked away, embarrassed. She was NOT about to ask him to kiss every inch of her. She could only hope.
Night fell over them quietly, like a silk blanket, slipping softly over them. They lay on their backs and watched stars spring up from every direction in the cloudless sky. They listened to the ocean waves come and go, in time with their breathing. They breathed in the soft salt air, filling their lungs. And after a time they drifted to sleep.
The night was long and short at the same time. The princess felt Angelus against her, and felt at home. As at home as she ever felt when she actually was at home. His arms tangled around hers, not even minding how sharp her elbows were or how long they seemed. His knees pressed against hers and didn’t care if they were knobby.
But something strange happened in the night. The princess woke up and Angelus’s arms were no longer tangled and his knees no longer pressed. Angelus was gone, and so were all the princess’s belongings.
The princess looked around. Her bag, her sword, and her boat were gone. The only thing she had was what she was wearing and the lace handkerchief that the pirate mistress had given her. The princess sat in the sand and looked out at the ocean. Great, she thought. I’m an entire ocean away from my home, with nothing but a dumb handkerchief.
The pirate mistress had said that this handkerchief would come in handy, and the princess thought that it was about time it started pulling its weight. It seemed like a regular handkerchief to her. It was lace and white and kind of average-sized. Why did the pirate mistress think that this stupid handkerchief would be useful. The princess threw away the handkerchief. It blew sadly in the wind, landing in the sand nearby. Immediately the princess felt bad about throwing it away. It might be a useless handkerchief, but it was her only belonging, and as such she kinda wanted it around. She went and picked it up and stuffed it back into her pocket.
The princess felt like sulking. Hard core sulking. But she knew that sulking wasn’t going to get her anywhere and the fucker had taken all her food. Hungry, pissed, and newly motivated the princess decided to head inland.
Past the beach was a forest full of tall trees, and unknown adventures. She walked briskly into the forest looking for any signs of life, or any signs of food. Soon she stumbled on some berries and ate her fill of the ripe fruit before traveling on.
There were lots of animals in the forest the princess had never seen before. She was unsure of what they were called, or if any of them were dangerous, but she tried to avoid anything large and hairy or small and scaly. Or large and scaly, if such a terrifying creature exists.
At one point the princess felt like she was being watched. She looked around, but it was futile. The forest was dark and full of hidden locations where things could watch her unnoticed. The princess tried to brush off the feeling and keep going but after a while she heard a rustling in the bushes.
She looked behind her but didn’t see anything so she turned back around and found herself standing in front of the smallest human she had ever seen.
“Hey lady, you’re pretty jumpy.” The little human said. He was wearing a green vest and brown pants that were tattered beyond belief. He was about 2 and a half feet tall.
“Who are you?” The princess said.
“I’m an elf, obviously!” He said exasperated. “You must not be from around here if you don’t know THAT. Jeeezzzz.”
“Well I’m not.” The princess said indignity. He was sassy and she didn’t appreciate that given he was, like, a third her size. She could’ve squashed him just by stepping on him. “And just what are you doing out here anyway?”
“I’m out hunting.” He said pulling out some silver daggers to show the princess. These daggers glinted in the scarce light that penetrated the deep forest. They were magic, elfin crafted, and forged deep in the forest. It was all very mystical and very Lord of the Rings.
The princess was entranced by the shining daggers. The elfin boy caught on to the princess’s fascination with his weapons and he handed her one. “Here, lady, have one. I got plenty and you’re all eying ‘em an’ shit. Jeeeeez.”
The princess took it and held it in her hand. It was light—lighter than she had expected. “Thank you” She said.
But before the small elf could reply with “you’re welcome” A dark shadow fell over them. Something screeched above them—a terrible, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking cry. The princess looked up into the sky but all she saw was black.
“Oh shit” The elf said. The princess looked down to where the elf had been, but he was gone, instantaneously. “Better run, lady” she heard him call from somewhere unknown.
“Oh shit” The princess said, repeating the elf. “Just what I need.”
Another cry penetrated the air that spurred the princess into action. She tripped over branches and fallen trees but the shadow that was being cast over the forest seemed never ending. She heard the sound of horse hooves approaching and she PRAYED that it was a knight in shining armor, not some murdering rapscallion.
The princess spotted the rider from through the trees. As he rode passed, on his black horse, he grabbed the princess and swung her onto the back of the horse. They rode and rode, until finally, after what seemed like an eternity they reached a clearing on a plateau. The princess leaped off the horse as the rider came to a halt.
She landed roughly, tumbling to the ground and lying in the dirt, tired. Tired of being in danger, tired of running, tired of all this adventure. She needed ONE MINUTE of lying down, even if it was in the dirt.
The rider jumped down, and stared down at the crumpled princess. She didn’t look at him. He continued to stare down at the princess. He slipped off his hood, revealing, the princess would’ve been surprised to see, if she had taken the time to look, a crown.
“The dragon is headed our way, it might behoove you to get up and run like hell.”
“Why is he after me?” The princess moaned into the dirt.
“The king sent him. He’s after me.”
“Huh?” the princess said vaguely. And at this she turned around. She found herself looking at this man, who was in fact, she realized, wearing a crown. “Oh shit.” She said. This mother-fucker was the evil king’s son. “Just my luck” the princess muttered and lay back down in the dirt. How did she get here? She thought. Lying helpless in the dirt, with the son of an evil king standing over her.
“Look, my father isn’t the greatest” the prince said. “But I’m not my father. However, I do know my father and I know he sent the dragon to find me and he will find us if we don’t leave now.”
“Forget it” the princess said. “I don’t need saving, nor do I want to be saved.”
A screech could be heard coming nearer the princess and the prince. “Well, you’re in luck” the prince said. “you are about to be not saved.”
And at that moment the dragon swooped over them and landed in front of them. “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” The prince said to the dragon. He got on his horse and looked down at the sad-sap princess. “You know, you could come with me. Palace. Soft beds. Showers. Food. Palace-type things.”
The princess knew plenty about palace-type things and she knew that it had been years since she had experienced any of them. Feeling like nothing could be worse than the dirt she was lying in right now, she got up, mounted the horse, and rode with the prince back to his palace.
The prince took the princess to his palace. It stood on a grey mountain, surrounded by bleak foothills full of dead grass and no living creatures. Besides, of course, the king’s evil pet dragon slash horrible minion. Although the palace looked daunting from outside, the inside was very pleasant.
The prince treated her very well. She was well fed and well dressed and well groomed within the week. He looked at her with faun eyes. Big and deep and brown and caring. He doted on her and she found herself falling for him. And he for her. He loved everything about her. He loved her smile. He loved the arches of her feet and the tip of her nose. He loved the way she fell asleep, slept, and woke up, and couldn’t decide which was his favorite. He loved how sassy she could be when she was tired and how compassionate she could be when she was patient. The way her nose crinkled when she was concentrating.
The princess spent many years with the prince, by his side loyally.
But things happened between them that the princess didn’t understand. That the princess still doesn’t understand. Complications that shouldn’t have arisen, but did anyway. The prince ignored them, he wanted things to be perfect. But the princess knew what the problem was from the very beginning. This wasn’t a love story. This was an adventure story. She didn’t need a knight in shining armor. She was her own hero of her own story.
And it was time for the princess to leave. It was time for the next adventure. She wanted to slip away, quietly. And so she did. She slipped into the night and the prince never saw her again.
He cried for 100 days and 100 nights over his lost love. During that time his mind became dark with grief. And on the 101st day he approached his father, the evil king, with a plan. He told his evil king father he wanted the princess back, dead or alive.
Now the evil king was evil, which I think I’ve already made pretty clear. He saw the goodness in the princess from the very beginning and he didn’t like it, not one bit. He didn’t want some goodie to shoes brown noser inheriting his evil empire and turning into something full of rainbows and unicorns. Unicorns were an endangered species, and it was directly a result of the king’s anti-cute campaign. He was basically a republican.
Suffice it to say, he was quite relieved that she had skipped out on his wanker of a son. So when the prince came to him asking the king to send his dragon to fetch the princess, the king knew he had one more trick up his sleeve.
The princess knew exactly where she would go. Back to the ocean, where she belonged.
She climbed down the mountain. Once she made it to the bottom on the mountains, she began crossing the plateau that led to the forest that would eventually lead her to the ocean. She walked briskly. The sooner she reached the ocean the better.
Suddenly, the princess heard a terrible cry from behind her. She turned around to find the evil king’s dragon hurtling at her, looking as ferocious as ever.
She ducked as the dragon dive-bombed her, clipping her shoulder with his talons. The wound poured blood, and was excruciating. She held her shoulder, noticing the dragon circling over head ready to attack again. The cut was deep, and if the princess didn’t stop the bleeding soon, she knew she would be in trouble. But first things first—the dragon needed to be stopped before he actually took off her arm—or worse, killed her. The princess fumbled for her bag. The dagger which the elf had given her in her travels inside and if she could fend off the dragon long enough to get off the plateau and into the cover of the forest, she might be safe enough to find a way to stop the bleeding in her shoulder.
The dragon dove again, teeth bared and talons out. The princess slashed at the dragon with the dagger and by luck she dug the dagger into the wing of the dragon, seriously injuring it. It spiraled out of control and hit the plateau with a thud.
The princess took this opportunity to run like hell. Finally she reached the edge of the forest. She didn’t think she had killed it, and she didn’t know how long the wing injury would impair it, but she knew she had seriously pissed that dragon off. She didn’t have time, she needed to stop the bleeding on her shoulder. She rummaged in her bag, but the only remotely useful thing she could find was the white lace handkerchief that the pirate mistress had given the princess years ago. The pirate mistress had said that the handkerchief would come in hand one day. The princess hoped today was the day.
She wiped the blood off her shoulder with the white lace. As she wiped the cut with the handkerchief, however, the wound healed before her eyes. The blood stopped flowing, and there wasn’t even a scar where the dragon had attacked her. The princess looked at the lace handkerchief in amazement to find that miraculously the white lace didn’t have a single red blood stain on it. It was still pearly white. There was no trace of blood anywhere.
But this was hardly a time to dilly-dally. The princess could hear the dragon coming towards her in the cover of the forest and she got up and started running.
The wounded dragon soared through the sky at an alarming rate. The princess ran as fast as her feet could take her. She ran and ran, with the dragon screaming above her head. Her only protection was the forest, but the dragon was quickly burning down the surrounding area. At some point her feet didn’t even know where she was going. Her mind raced and she pounded the ground, running, running. As she fled, images whipped through her mind. Her long lost parents, her coastal home, the people she had met in her long, long journey. The pirates, the evil king, the elf, the prince. In this moment, the princess realized her mortality. This odyssey had taken her near and far and now, now it was going to come to an end. Her LIFE was going to end. Tears sprang up in her eyes as she ran, now blinded by fear and tears. She wiped them away, suddenly determined to escape. Her feet didn’t know it, but they quickened their pace.
Over head the dragon shrieked in fury. If it could’ve spoke it would’ve been saying very nasty things about the princess. Its broken wing hindered the dragon’s control, but apparently not its speed. It roared in pain as its broken wing hit the upper branches of the burning forest.
The princess ran for what seemed an eternity, until, quite suddenly she found herself at the coast. In front of her stood the ocean. Her ocean! Somewhere across that sea were her parents, was her home. Home! But here on the shore, the forest stopped, and it was not long before the princess realized she was completely unsheltered.
Within seconds the dragon had caught up with the princess. The princess faced the dragon, its wings beating clumsily high over head. Its mouth smoked and it’s eyes burned. It screamed into the sky and breathed fire above its head raining smoldering ashes down onto the princess. The princess shuddered but stood her ground. She had no energy left to run, and nowhere to run, with the sea on one side and the burning forest on the other.
Then suddenly the princess had an idea. She grabbed the elf’s dagger and flung it at the dragons broken wing dagger flew faster and more aerodynamic then regular daggers, and it hit the dragon right in its heart.
They never tell you this, but a dragon’s heart is made of fire. It is the source of its fire breathing. The heart is the source of everyone’s energy. It holds the fire that burns in everyone. And this dagger extinguished the dragon’s fire. The dragon gave its last screech as it whirled through the sky. It careened through the sky, trying to maintain control, but its heart was mortally wounded. It flew over the ocean, beating its wings helplessly until it crashed towards the sea. The burning dragon’s heart consumed the dragon’s body as it collided with the water.
The heat from the dragon’s blazing heart evaporated the ocean on impact. The entire sea seemed to shrivel up in an instance, in front of the princess’s horrified eyes. The water. The water? The water was… gone? All gone. The ocean had disappeared. The princess’s ocean had disappeared. Her perfect ocean. With the burning forest behind her, the princess fell to the ground. Her ocean! The blue that no longer reflected her eyes. The waves that no longer crashed to the beat of her heart.
Her throat tightened. Her eyes widened. And the princess cried. Tears, small at first trickled down her delicate face. Then they grew bigger. Big elephant tears rolled down her cheeks to splash onto the dry ocean floor. The princess kept crying, tears now streaming down her face, until they were literally flooding her face. And soon enough, her salty tears began to create a pool of water around her. But she didn’t stop. She cried and cried. Plop. Plop. Plop. Each tear adding to the pool of water. Until, the entire ocean had filled with her tears. She had cried an ocean for the disappearance of the ocean, and in that had actually REPLACED the ocean. Her heart leapt in her chest. She had done it. She had killed the evil dragon and saved the ocean.
And now the princess knew, her adventure was over. It was time to go home.
THE END
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Rapture and Other Other-Worldly Things
I know I just posted something but I feel like this is an important thin to address, given the lack of recognizable rapture that happened yesterday.
First I want to start with something I wrote a few weeks ago, with (impending?) rapture not even on my mind:
A couple days ago my Facebook status was: "They better play Pandora's 80's Pop Radio in Heaven." At the time I didn't think much about it. Then I kind of thought about it. What if they did play 80's music in heaven. That'd be pretty awesome. And at that point I started thinking about heaven. I'm not uber religious so I don't think about my... options... in regards to an afterlife. I believe, and I've said it before and I'll say it again, that you'll find out what happens to you when you die, when you die. I don't really think about me going anywhere, or, actually, not going anywhere. Generally I just don't think about my death. Or anything that may happen after my death. But here I was sitting in my dorm sitting in front of my computer having just posted what I previously believed was a witty facebook status update. Now it seemed more than that. 80's pop in heaven... Does that mean Saint Peter likes the song "Hey Saint Peter"? If 80's pop doesn't play in heaven what does? Punk rock? Classic rock? Alternative? Hip-hop? R&B? I know it's not classical or choral music, that would just be cruel torture. That must be what they play in hell. Let's assume they play 80's pop. That settles that matter. But once we've got a proper soundtrack to heaven, I don't know, doesn't it feel more tangible? When before I didn't think about it, now I wouldn't mind an eternity with Madonna and Michael Jackson. Music aside, what else is up there (assuming it's UP)?? Are we talking fresh fruit and dark chocolate? Or the best burgers like EVER? Do I need to watch my weight in heaven? I don't think so. Are we building apartments out of clouds? Or are we higher and building houses outta stars. Do people in heaven wear space suits? There are so many questions and most of them are silly and trivial. But I find it interesting that I suddenly am thinking about what kind of music I would be listening to for eternity. ETERNITY. What? That's crazy! I can't even fathom.... What does that even mean? Do I really want to listen to the Go-Gos forever? Maybe 80's pop wasn't a good choice... I'm not sure I'm mentally or emotionally ready to live forever in heaven. I'm not sure I'm mentally or emotionally ready to THINK about living forever in heaven. At this point I think I'll go back to living my life here on Earth. I don't need to worry about what happens when I die, because thankfully I'm NOT DEAD. And that's great. Because I can listen to as much 80's pop as I want while I'm living.
Now some things about just like... Some things...
A couple of days ago I was talking to my friend about virginity. He is a religious person and, as I have said above, I don't really know whats up. He called it, in my case, my womanhood. My lack of booty, to be crude, equates to my womanhood. I had, before, not thought deeply about the word "womanhood". That's like, all of me. So a woman's virginity, that's all of her? I'm sorry but that is about as archaic as the fucking dinosaurs. So I said to my religious friend, hell no am I giving up my WOMANHOOD when I have sex with a man. I don't like the idea of a man, stealing my womanhood-- he's not stealing anything, much less my identity. I'm not losing anything here. That's not the point of sex. When I have sex, I will still consider myself a FULL and COMPLETE woman, as pure as anyone who hasn't had sex. I'm not ruined or missing something. That's when he says, "And that is where I have to respectively disagree." And then I say, "Why?" And he says, "Virginity is a gift." And that's when I said, "Love is a gift. Sex is the manifestation of that love. If I give my love to a man, embodied through sex, it should be more important that I love him and that I'm giving him that love, more than if you've had sex before. It's the love, not the act that's important. And so maybe I believe in many loves, no one true love. And maybe you believe in one true love, the only person in the world you love enough to give your gift to. So maybe in that sense we have an ideological schism. believe in many loves, and you believe in one. Because it's about love and I can accept that. But don't tell me its about sex. I cant accept that." And the only thing he could say in response was that it was simply part of his belief system. And for some reason I just couldn't accept that. I ducked out of the conversation quickly, but the thoughts stuck with me. So many people are alienated, simply because of ideological schisms. What bugged me is that I felt like I accepted his ideas as his truth, and he simply disregarded my points because of God. Because God said, no way Jose. I don't like to think of God, if he does exist, as someone who you can't converse with. If God is real he should be like a bro you can talk to, confide in, gossip with, lean on, and most of all have heated discussions with. But never leave the conversation like your ideas weren't respected, like he was blind to your thoughts, like it was His way or the highway (to hell).
Now on to Rapture. Well as most people know, it was supposed to happen (according some guy) yesterday. And as far as I know, it didn't happen. I certainly am not blogging from Heaven. I don't, honestly know much about it really. But I do know that today there have been a lot of "told you so's" being thrown about at people who had faith in the Rapture. I'm not sure how to react. I guess I'm kind of relieved. But I am genuinely worried about the people who believed in the Rapture. Are people homeless? Belongingless? Did people give all their shit away in preparation for an ascension to heaven that never came? I know one thing is for sure. Faith took a hard blow today. These poor people, they KNEW-- KNEW WITH ALL THEIR FAITH IN GOD-- that they were going to heaven yesterday. And now they are sitting at home (if they still have one) either totally faithless or thinking that THEY were not WORTHY of ascension. And you got to know the people who believed in the Rapture would've been pious enough to make the cut. So many people are probably going through psychological distress in the light of the un-Rapturous activities of yesterday. And I feel bad. Why? Because some of these people believed IN Rapture as much as you DIDN'T. You KNEW it was a hoax, and they KNEW it was going to happen. Be honest, if the legitimate Rapture had happened yesterday and all your nice religious zealots had ascended to heaven, would you have changed your faith. HELL YEAH! If it had actually happened yesterday I would be on my knees right now screaming JESUS HALLELUJAH! like a giant black gospel singer. That would be PROOF, if the souls of the religious just floated up to heaven-- what more proof do you need? So these people, the people who knew that would happen, they are now wandering in a possibly Godless world not knowing what to do with themselves. What do you do when something you know turns out to be false, by 180 degrees? I personally think this is a WONDERFUL opportunity for the non-religious community. Welcome the lost souls of the un-Rapture. Be gracious about their flawed beliefs in their ascension. Welcome either literally or metaphorically into your arms, whether they be atheist or agnostic or just less zealous religious. Don't point the finger, don't laugh, don't say I told you so, don't scold them. Just smile, pat them on the shoulder and say welcome friend. This is a better world, you'll see. We accept you. We accept everyone here.
First I want to start with something I wrote a few weeks ago, with (impending?) rapture not even on my mind:
A couple days ago my Facebook status was: "They better play Pandora's 80's Pop Radio in Heaven." At the time I didn't think much about it. Then I kind of thought about it. What if they did play 80's music in heaven. That'd be pretty awesome. And at that point I started thinking about heaven. I'm not uber religious so I don't think about my... options... in regards to an afterlife. I believe, and I've said it before and I'll say it again, that you'll find out what happens to you when you die, when you die. I don't really think about me going anywhere, or, actually, not going anywhere. Generally I just don't think about my death. Or anything that may happen after my death. But here I was sitting in my dorm sitting in front of my computer having just posted what I previously believed was a witty facebook status update. Now it seemed more than that. 80's pop in heaven... Does that mean Saint Peter likes the song "Hey Saint Peter"? If 80's pop doesn't play in heaven what does? Punk rock? Classic rock? Alternative? Hip-hop? R&B? I know it's not classical or choral music, that would just be cruel torture. That must be what they play in hell. Let's assume they play 80's pop. That settles that matter. But once we've got a proper soundtrack to heaven, I don't know, doesn't it feel more tangible? When before I didn't think about it, now I wouldn't mind an eternity with Madonna and Michael Jackson. Music aside, what else is up there (assuming it's UP)?? Are we talking fresh fruit and dark chocolate? Or the best burgers like EVER? Do I need to watch my weight in heaven? I don't think so. Are we building apartments out of clouds? Or are we higher and building houses outta stars. Do people in heaven wear space suits? There are so many questions and most of them are silly and trivial. But I find it interesting that I suddenly am thinking about what kind of music I would be listening to for eternity. ETERNITY. What? That's crazy! I can't even fathom.... What does that even mean? Do I really want to listen to the Go-Gos forever? Maybe 80's pop wasn't a good choice... I'm not sure I'm mentally or emotionally ready to live forever in heaven. I'm not sure I'm mentally or emotionally ready to THINK about living forever in heaven. At this point I think I'll go back to living my life here on Earth. I don't need to worry about what happens when I die, because thankfully I'm NOT DEAD. And that's great. Because I can listen to as much 80's pop as I want while I'm living.
Now some things about just like... Some things...
A couple of days ago I was talking to my friend about virginity. He is a religious person and, as I have said above, I don't really know whats up. He called it, in my case, my womanhood. My lack of booty, to be crude, equates to my womanhood. I had, before, not thought deeply about the word "womanhood". That's like, all of me. So a woman's virginity, that's all of her? I'm sorry but that is about as archaic as the fucking dinosaurs. So I said to my religious friend, hell no am I giving up my WOMANHOOD when I have sex with a man. I don't like the idea of a man, stealing my womanhood-- he's not stealing anything, much less my identity. I'm not losing anything here. That's not the point of sex. When I have sex, I will still consider myself a FULL and COMPLETE woman, as pure as anyone who hasn't had sex. I'm not ruined or missing something. That's when he says, "And that is where I have to respectively disagree." And then I say, "Why?" And he says, "Virginity is a gift." And that's when I said, "Love is a gift. Sex is the manifestation of that love. If I give my love to a man, embodied through sex, it should be more important that I love him and that I'm giving him that love, more than if you've had sex before. It's the love, not the act that's important. And so maybe I believe in many loves, no one true love. And maybe you believe in one true love, the only person in the world you love enough to give your gift to. So maybe in that sense we have an ideological schism. believe in many loves, and you believe in one. Because it's about love and I can accept that. But don't tell me its about sex. I cant accept that." And the only thing he could say in response was that it was simply part of his belief system. And for some reason I just couldn't accept that. I ducked out of the conversation quickly, but the thoughts stuck with me. So many people are alienated, simply because of ideological schisms. What bugged me is that I felt like I accepted his ideas as his truth, and he simply disregarded my points because of God. Because God said, no way Jose. I don't like to think of God, if he does exist, as someone who you can't converse with. If God is real he should be like a bro you can talk to, confide in, gossip with, lean on, and most of all have heated discussions with. But never leave the conversation like your ideas weren't respected, like he was blind to your thoughts, like it was His way or the highway (to hell).
Now on to Rapture. Well as most people know, it was supposed to happen (according some guy) yesterday. And as far as I know, it didn't happen. I certainly am not blogging from Heaven. I don't, honestly know much about it really. But I do know that today there have been a lot of "told you so's" being thrown about at people who had faith in the Rapture. I'm not sure how to react. I guess I'm kind of relieved. But I am genuinely worried about the people who believed in the Rapture. Are people homeless? Belongingless? Did people give all their shit away in preparation for an ascension to heaven that never came? I know one thing is for sure. Faith took a hard blow today. These poor people, they KNEW-- KNEW WITH ALL THEIR FAITH IN GOD-- that they were going to heaven yesterday. And now they are sitting at home (if they still have one) either totally faithless or thinking that THEY were not WORTHY of ascension. And you got to know the people who believed in the Rapture would've been pious enough to make the cut. So many people are probably going through psychological distress in the light of the un-Rapturous activities of yesterday. And I feel bad. Why? Because some of these people believed IN Rapture as much as you DIDN'T. You KNEW it was a hoax, and they KNEW it was going to happen. Be honest, if the legitimate Rapture had happened yesterday and all your nice religious zealots had ascended to heaven, would you have changed your faith. HELL YEAH! If it had actually happened yesterday I would be on my knees right now screaming JESUS HALLELUJAH! like a giant black gospel singer. That would be PROOF, if the souls of the religious just floated up to heaven-- what more proof do you need? So these people, the people who knew that would happen, they are now wandering in a possibly Godless world not knowing what to do with themselves. What do you do when something you know turns out to be false, by 180 degrees? I personally think this is a WONDERFUL opportunity for the non-religious community. Welcome the lost souls of the un-Rapture. Be gracious about their flawed beliefs in their ascension. Welcome either literally or metaphorically into your arms, whether they be atheist or agnostic or just less zealous religious. Don't point the finger, don't laugh, don't say I told you so, don't scold them. Just smile, pat them on the shoulder and say welcome friend. This is a better world, you'll see. We accept you. We accept everyone here.
On Short Hair
I just cut my hair. People are always surprised when I get my hair cut. I have short hair and I like to get it cut often-- so often in fact that at times it seems I cut it faster than it has time to grow back. My hair has progressively gotten shorter over the years.
I've had short hair for years... Like 5 of them... I love having short hair.
Not that it's always been butterflies and rainbows having a revolutionary hair style (relative to most 14-19 year old girls). I remember the first time I got it cut short. When I told one of my friends the first thing she said was that people would think I was a lesbian. It had never occurred to me that people might react like that. My friends comment had confused me, for several reasons. First, I was in middle school, or actually had just gotten out of middle school, and wasn't really thinking about other people's perception of my sexuality. I was straight, I knew that, and I hadn't considered how a haircut could change that. I also didn't like that comment because that was such a stereotype-- one that I not only didn't buy into, but also didn't really understand. "Lesbians have short hair"/ "Women with short hair are lesbians" was a concept that I hadn't yet recognized as valid. Some lesbians had short hair, sure, but some lesbians--no surprise here--just had 'normal' or average girl hair. So why did my short hair have anything to do with looking like a lesbian? Finally, and probably most upsetting was this idea that I shouldn't look like a lesbian. Like it was bad to have short hair and thus fit a stereotype. Like it was bad to be a lesbian. So what if I look like a lesbian? So what if I do and am not a lesbian? SO WHAT KATE(nay-sayer friend)?? Lesbians are just women! Are just ladies with rad hair! SO WHAT if I look like one? And as far as I know, know one has ever outwardly assumed that I was lesbian. And if they did, I'm sure it wasn't about my fucking short hair.
The other thing that actually worried me, and not my friends, is that I would be mistaken for a man. I had this more when I was younger and it never happened. I have a pretty feminine face and overall look, and unless men are growing big tits and wearing curvy jeans, I'm not manly. But I worried about it nonetheless. I can say that in five years I have been mistaken for a man... ONCE. My nigh perfect record was ruined by a Safeway Supermarket cashier. Let me explain: I was dressed in sweats and a baggy t-shirt for a rehearsal for a show I was in, had no make-up one and hadn't done my hair that day. I was in no shape to be out in public but I figured no one at the theater cared, and I needed some food before rehearsal. As the woman handed me my receipt she said, "have a nice day sir", looked up and said, "er, ma'am." Just as I had worried, it was quite a blow to my short hair ego. But later that day when I was out of my gross rehearsal gear I did get hit on, sooooo..... I bounced back pretty fast.
In the last five years I have on multiple occasions decided to grow my hair out. I have this romantic vision of myself with look flowing locks, or something. But I haven't gotten far. Once I can cram it barely into a half up pony tail type thing-- I lose my patience with it and chop it off. It just gets to this awkward stage and I can't handle it anymore. Suffice to say I haven't had hair past my shoulders for since I was 13. Maybe someday I will had long luscious hair, but I doubt it.
I've talked a lot about the struggles of having short hair, and anyone who is considering chopping it all off should know that with everything there will be 1. Nay-sayers, 2. Self doubt, 3. Flaws.
Overall, however, I LURV MY HAIR. I rock the short hair look. And it is so very versatile! You can wear it up, down, and all around. You can go from perky and feminine to relaxed and tousled to crazy and rock star-esque! It's badass, fo' real.
It's very freeing, it's easy to manage, and most of all it's beautiful. It's something unique about me because not many people have the guts or the hair or the face or the style to pull it off. As I get older I have noticed that it is not as revolutionary as it used to be, especially in Seattle. But I find that the way I personalize my hair, as with any aspect of myself, I still stand out in a crowd. :)
I've had short hair for years... Like 5 of them... I love having short hair.
Not that it's always been butterflies and rainbows having a revolutionary hair style (relative to most 14-19 year old girls). I remember the first time I got it cut short. When I told one of my friends the first thing she said was that people would think I was a lesbian. It had never occurred to me that people might react like that. My friends comment had confused me, for several reasons. First, I was in middle school, or actually had just gotten out of middle school, and wasn't really thinking about other people's perception of my sexuality. I was straight, I knew that, and I hadn't considered how a haircut could change that. I also didn't like that comment because that was such a stereotype-- one that I not only didn't buy into, but also didn't really understand. "Lesbians have short hair"/ "Women with short hair are lesbians" was a concept that I hadn't yet recognized as valid. Some lesbians had short hair, sure, but some lesbians--no surprise here--just had 'normal' or average girl hair. So why did my short hair have anything to do with looking like a lesbian? Finally, and probably most upsetting was this idea that I shouldn't look like a lesbian. Like it was bad to have short hair and thus fit a stereotype. Like it was bad to be a lesbian. So what if I look like a lesbian? So what if I do and am not a lesbian? SO WHAT KATE(nay-sayer friend)?? Lesbians are just women! Are just ladies with rad hair! SO WHAT if I look like one? And as far as I know, know one has ever outwardly assumed that I was lesbian. And if they did, I'm sure it wasn't about my fucking short hair.
The other thing that actually worried me, and not my friends, is that I would be mistaken for a man. I had this more when I was younger and it never happened. I have a pretty feminine face and overall look, and unless men are growing big tits and wearing curvy jeans, I'm not manly. But I worried about it nonetheless. I can say that in five years I have been mistaken for a man... ONCE. My nigh perfect record was ruined by a Safeway Supermarket cashier. Let me explain: I was dressed in sweats and a baggy t-shirt for a rehearsal for a show I was in, had no make-up one and hadn't done my hair that day. I was in no shape to be out in public but I figured no one at the theater cared, and I needed some food before rehearsal. As the woman handed me my receipt she said, "have a nice day sir", looked up and said, "er, ma'am." Just as I had worried, it was quite a blow to my short hair ego. But later that day when I was out of my gross rehearsal gear I did get hit on, sooooo..... I bounced back pretty fast.
In the last five years I have on multiple occasions decided to grow my hair out. I have this romantic vision of myself with look flowing locks, or something. But I haven't gotten far. Once I can cram it barely into a half up pony tail type thing-- I lose my patience with it and chop it off. It just gets to this awkward stage and I can't handle it anymore. Suffice to say I haven't had hair past my shoulders for since I was 13. Maybe someday I will had long luscious hair, but I doubt it.
I've talked a lot about the struggles of having short hair, and anyone who is considering chopping it all off should know that with everything there will be 1. Nay-sayers, 2. Self doubt, 3. Flaws.
Overall, however, I LURV MY HAIR. I rock the short hair look. And it is so very versatile! You can wear it up, down, and all around. You can go from perky and feminine to relaxed and tousled to crazy and rock star-esque! It's badass, fo' real.
It's very freeing, it's easy to manage, and most of all it's beautiful. It's something unique about me because not many people have the guts or the hair or the face or the style to pull it off. As I get older I have noticed that it is not as revolutionary as it used to be, especially in Seattle. But I find that the way I personalize my hair, as with any aspect of myself, I still stand out in a crowd. :)
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
A Tid Bit on College Food
I feel most existential when I'm eating at the cafeteria: What's the point of living with food like this? This is not food, this is edible ingredients made to look like food. To look barely like food… It makes you wonder what cruel twist of fate ended you up on this side of the Atlantic. We just had to be descendants of Puritans—not able to enjoy anything apparently, even food. We try to find bargains for our food. We are shocked if a meal cost us more than 20 a plate. Let's splurge-- let's eat off campus It's been a while since I've spent more than 5 dollars a meal, I'm starting to crave that good old 7 buck Pad Thai. My parents used to give me an allowance and I would eat. I didn't shop as much as I would go out to food with my friends. I was surprised when I didn't drop 20 bucks. Now I get the small of everything. Water is just fine, suddenly. I dropped 15 pounds this year. Not that I'm too poor to eat. I got plenty of money on my dining account... It's more of a voluntary fast… When I get hungry I walk through the cafeteria and suddenly I don't feel as ravished anymore. People save money in college because they can't wait to get their own place or buy their own car I have dreams of spending money on real food. Last great— I mean GREAT— meal I ate cost 25 bucks. I shouldn't have to shudder at that. You can't live without food. And you get what you pay for. There is a direct correlation between goodness and price. If you spend 5 dollars you get cold tacos with no flavor. If you spend 50 you get lobster and crab stuffed mahi mahi. I have expensive taste (literally), I realize that, but it's not like I'm hungry for a fucking Lamborghini or the latest apple invention or a giant house, I want food. Real food. Good food. Because fundamentally, we are what we eat.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Dear Me,
I don’t know where to start. Well I do, but I have to start out like that for dramatic effect. What I want to really start with is I love you, but I don’t want to come across to forward. What words can express my feelings for you? I don’t know much but here is one thing I do know:
You will never be alone. As long as you have legs that walk, a stomach that digests, a brain that thinks, lips that speak, and a heart that beats you will never ever be alone. If you care for a stroll with some solid friends, look down. Your thighs will support you through any hardship, and your feet will keep you standing when all you feel like doing is falling. If you ever find yourself eating without company, remember your friend the stomach will sit contented with you at every meal. If you are looking for someone with a strong intellect and interesting thoughts remember your brain, who is always up for some enlightening verbal sparring or even a quiet contemplation on life. There will be, of course, times when you want someone friendly, lighthearted conversation. In this regard, your mouth will never let you down; they are always there with a witty remark or observation. Your last friend, your heart, is the most precious one you have. Never lose sight of him. He is steady, he is strong. He will never abandon you and he will love you with all of himself until the day that you both die. He will love you the way I love you. Always, and with the air of someone who was made to love you.
I used to love other people, as you know. Men, women, animals. I still love them, of course. I am not one to limit my love. The only change is that now I remember it’s most important to love you. I can love him, or her, or all of them, yes. But I remember to always love you first. Because I know that some days I’m the only one who is there for you. That’s okay, though, because sometimes there is no one else for me either. I love you and you love me back. Because sometimes loving ourselves, loving each other, is all we have. So even though I love other people, I never forget you. I will never forget you. You are always on my mind.
I am not a love sick puppy. I have a steady, steadfast admiration for you. I adore you. Do not mistake my love for hubris, do not think it is a selfish love. It is in recognition of your worth that I write this love letter.
I am here for you. I will hold your hand, clasped under your chin as you think deep thoughts. I will hug you at night, my arms folding around your shoulders. I will kiss you every time I put on chapstick or lipstick, my lips pushing together briefly, innocently, like a child’s first kiss. I will smile coyly at you, every time I look into a mirror, my eyes glinting with a secret knowledge. That I love that face in the glass, and that she loves me back. I’ll look away, furtively, not wanting anyone to know how great I think you look today. Because you do. You always do. Always have. Always will. Be Amazing.
Love Always,
Yourself
You will never be alone. As long as you have legs that walk, a stomach that digests, a brain that thinks, lips that speak, and a heart that beats you will never ever be alone. If you care for a stroll with some solid friends, look down. Your thighs will support you through any hardship, and your feet will keep you standing when all you feel like doing is falling. If you ever find yourself eating without company, remember your friend the stomach will sit contented with you at every meal. If you are looking for someone with a strong intellect and interesting thoughts remember your brain, who is always up for some enlightening verbal sparring or even a quiet contemplation on life. There will be, of course, times when you want someone friendly, lighthearted conversation. In this regard, your mouth will never let you down; they are always there with a witty remark or observation. Your last friend, your heart, is the most precious one you have. Never lose sight of him. He is steady, he is strong. He will never abandon you and he will love you with all of himself until the day that you both die. He will love you the way I love you. Always, and with the air of someone who was made to love you.
I used to love other people, as you know. Men, women, animals. I still love them, of course. I am not one to limit my love. The only change is that now I remember it’s most important to love you. I can love him, or her, or all of them, yes. But I remember to always love you first. Because I know that some days I’m the only one who is there for you. That’s okay, though, because sometimes there is no one else for me either. I love you and you love me back. Because sometimes loving ourselves, loving each other, is all we have. So even though I love other people, I never forget you. I will never forget you. You are always on my mind.
I am not a love sick puppy. I have a steady, steadfast admiration for you. I adore you. Do not mistake my love for hubris, do not think it is a selfish love. It is in recognition of your worth that I write this love letter.
I am here for you. I will hold your hand, clasped under your chin as you think deep thoughts. I will hug you at night, my arms folding around your shoulders. I will kiss you every time I put on chapstick or lipstick, my lips pushing together briefly, innocently, like a child’s first kiss. I will smile coyly at you, every time I look into a mirror, my eyes glinting with a secret knowledge. That I love that face in the glass, and that she loves me back. I’ll look away, furtively, not wanting anyone to know how great I think you look today. Because you do. You always do. Always have. Always will. Be Amazing.
Love Always,
Yourself
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