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Musings
Category

  • Why Men Fall Asleep After Sex

    Sex is the most ancient and essential building block of life. It’s as old as time. To assume that there are rational explanations for our sexual behavior is as absurd as claiming to understand dark matter. We just don’t. We can have theories, but there is always going to be a mysterious impulse that suggests you masturbate into your neighbor’s shoes while listening to your grandmother singing “Old Macdonald.”

    Considering the fact that there are people who actually enjoy being shit on – that is enough evidence for me to know that when it comes to our sexuality, there is a LOT that can’t be explained.

    Men and women also have very different relationships to sex. For example if I were to use the date rape drug roofies, it would be so a guy wouldn’t try and have sex with me. Instead, I would just prop up his body next to me and watch Netflix – maybe use his hands to do my dishes so mine don’t get all dry.

    Yet for men, rape used to be a reward for war! Sure you would risk your life to invade this village, but if you win, feel free to rape and pillage till your hearts content!!! Rape away soldiers – that’s your prize!

    When women are in relationships and their man is always trying to touch their boobs, they get annoyed. It’s agitating when you’re focusing on chopping vegetables for a salad and someone comes up from behind and cups your tits. I would say things like “this is my body, it’s not your property!” Or “how would you feel if I kept trying to grab your penis randomly when you’re trying to wash dishes?” And he would then answer, “yes, please. Do grab my penis.”

    It’s not that men like sex more than women, they just have a different relationship to it. Yet the idea that women enjoy sex is terrifying to society. In almost every instance when there has been a case of sexual misconduct, the woman gets blamed. Monica Lewinsky is still being shamed for blowing Bill Clinton, and Hillary still called a shrew for letting it happen. Personally I think Hillary is brilliant for outsourcing BJ’s, and what 20-year old intern wouldn’t let the president of the free world finger-blast you with a cigar? That’s the best hookup story of all time.

    Remember how Janet Jackson got all the blame for Justin Timberlake showing her breast at the super bowl? Or how about most of literature? The entire plot of the Crucible, or the Scarlet letter? There are countless stories of how the scandalous woman is the culprit of what was actually a two party sexcapade.

    The only woman that ever got away with a sex scandal was Mary. Somehow she was considered virgin after getting pregnant without sleeping with her husband, which is the ultimate coup. But we also have to remember that she was 14 ad married to a guy in his 40’s, which also explains a lot.

    There is so much missed messaging when it comes to women and sexuality that it’s impossible to keep up. Shakespeare’s originally quote from Hamlet was actually “to be a slut, not be a slut – that is the question.”

    There is a myth from ancient Greece that tries to uncover what gender enjoys sex more. So a god turned himself to both a man and a woman to experience it. Teirresias the prophet was watching two snakes coupling and had a premonition that women had much more explosive orgasms then men. He was then turned into a woman so he could see for him self, and prove his theory right.

    Despite all our conditioning and culture assumptions that suggest men are the more sexual creatures and women are passive recipients, there is a lot of evidence that proves otherwise. When we look at biology, I think I agree with Teirresias’ investigation. Men have one orgasm, where women can have many.

    So this all leads to my personal theory of why men fall asleep after sex. Once he’s passed out, then the woman can go look for another guy to fuck if she’s still in the mood, or wants some stellar sperm competition going on inside her. So back in the days of early man when Crog was too tired after his orgasm, Pog could mosey on over to the other side of the cave and get it on with Cronum. And that’s evolution guys… everybody wins.

    Get out of there girl!! There is another guy who is ready to rock!

    564ceddede9d7

    April 21, 2016 • Musings, Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 401

  • What’s the Difference Between Reasons and Excuses?

    When I was in my 20’s I would say yes to everything. If you asked me to go somewhere with you, my answer was a resounding “YES!” I’m a people pleaser, so I didn’t want to let anyone down by saying “no.” I would commit to things I didn’t even want to do just to avoid disappointing someone. Which is probably how I ended up sleeping with a guy I wasn’t attracted to just because I wanted to go home. Funny now to think that grinding genitals with someone felt LESS awkward than just being like “So… I’m outta here.”

    There are many problems with saying “yes,” and not truly connecting to your own desires. One thing that I found myself doing was waiting until the day of some commitment, and then changing my mind about going. Other plans would be more appealing – like taking bong hits and eating 3 lunches. I would then give some excuse about why it wasn’t going to work out. I think this strategy was wayyyyy more annoying to people than saying no in the first place. I remember a good friend telling me that I flaked on her all the time, and how much it hurt her feelings.

    From that moment forward I made a promise to myself. If I said yes to something, no matter what the circumstance, I would follow through. My thinking was that if I used excuses to excuse myself, then I would keep unconsciously saying yes. But if I knew that I was going to keep my word, then I would eventually teach myself how to say no.

    This is fucking harder to do than you think! Especially when someone is like “can you come to my wedding April, 24 2019? I know I currently don’t have plans that far in the future, but come that date, I am sure there will be a thousand things I would rather do than go to your dumb wedding. I mean, celebrate the glory of your eternal love.

    Of course there are moments when you have a genuine reason that you can’t do something you said you would. I may have said I would help you move, and then can’t because hurt my back. If that is true, then it’s a reason, but if it’s a lie, it’s an excuse. PS my back actually does hurt, so no I can’t help you move anytime in the next 60 years.

    When you give someone an excuse, you still act like it’s a reason, and hope they don’t pick up on the fact that it’s actually an excuse. But energetically we all know when someone is giving you an excuse. You just feel it in your bowels.

    Which then begs the question, what is the difference between a reason and an excuse?

    An excuse makes you feel bad about yourself, where a reason makes you feel for the other person. A reason is when you authentically WANT to do something but can’t. An excuse is when you really DON’T want to do something, but don’t know how to be brutally honest and say, “I just don’t want to.” A reason is when you really can’t, an excuse is when you are choosing not to.

    Like when someone answers an email after a few weeks and starts off with “sorry to take so long, been super busy.” Okay no. President Obama has time to respond to emails if he wants. No one is that fucking busy. The truth is, you didn’t FEEL like responding because you’re subtly letting me know I’m not that important to you. YEAH I GET THE HINT!

    I think we would all be better off if when we don’t have a reason for doing something, just owning the fact that you would rather watch a documentary about people who are addicted to watching documentaries. It may make the other person feel like a non-priority to you, but maybe their not, and it’s okay for them to know that. Or you are close enough as friends to know they will be around for the rest of your life… so fuck it. Instead of coming over, I’m going to sit on my couch and not come over because that’s what I feel like doing. And I got too high and ate too many dinners.

    Sorry girl… I would hang out with you, but I would rather let my social anxiety take over instead.

    toni and bridget

    April 6, 2016 • Musings, Relationships • Views: 336

  • Just Because I Love You, Doesn’t Mean I Care About You

    I think we waste a lot of our life force bickering with the people we love the most. You know those stupid cyclical fights that you’ve had over and over and over again that never seem to get resolved because in your heart you know they are going to leave their fucking dirty socks on the shower bathmat again? Most of the disagreements we have with people are just repeat conversations of the past, and each time we go down that yellow brick road, we will eventually end up in a poppy field passing out from emotional exhaustion.

    When you’re really close to someone, you have to deal with their eccentricities, annoying habits, compulsive behaviors, and shitty moods. The more comfortable someone is around you, the more they let they guard down, and reveal the underbelly of their darkest selves. Sometimes I want to say, “hey, do you mind putting a shirt over your vulnerability right now, because I’ve seen a little too much of you today.”

    The times I get most upset with people are when I feel like someone has disappointed me. I had some expectation they didn’t live up to, and then felt let down. I justify my rage by feeling like I was just caring about them – but is my caring a prison? If I never had that expectation to begin with, then I would never have gone through that psychic journey of disappointment.

    Do you think it’s possible to love someone deeply, but not really care about them?

    I don’t mean caring about their wellbeing, but caring about them in the sense that you don’t care or anticipate how they will behave.

    When we fall in love with someone – a lover, friend, or even our own children – we have LIMITLESS expectations of them. When you first meet a person they are perfect in our eyes, because they haven’t yet revealed themselves otherwise. It’s so easy to think that this dude will never put the silverware facing down in the dishwasher, or this friend will totally steam her vagina with me, or my baby will never boss me around like the evil step sisters in Cinderella and then yell in my face that she hates me because I said it was time for bed.

    The more you get to know someone, they will eventually fail you in one way or another… but is that their fault, or yours?

    It’s a lot easier to see YOU as the cause of MY misery. When something doesn’t go my way, that’s not my fault, it’s YOURS for making me do it in the first place! Although it may feel momentarily better to blame other people for my emotions and say, “you made me feel bad about myself!” In reality, I made ME feel bad about myself. Even though it may feel like a lot of responsibility to see things that way, it is also empowering. I am the architect of my responses to the world, and can choose how I internalize my feelings.

    If every time I get upset with someone I see it as my own doing, then I am no longer at the mercy of the world around me. I can’t control how you treat me, but I can control how hard I cunt punt you… I mean how I react to you.

    So now when anything happens to me where I want to choke someone, I instead try and see my part in the situation, and instead focus on that. No matter what shitty thing happens, there is always a lesson I can learn. Even if sometimes that lesson is dipping your toothbrush in my pee toilet.

    I have been trying to teach The Munch to not blame other people for her emotional wellbeing, but instead recognizing that she is the dictator of her internal world. So far this strategy is being met with mixed results. Sometimes it only inflames her:

    Toni: Okay, that’s enough screens for tonight.
    The Munch: Can I just watch one more “My Little Pony?”
    Toni: No. We had a deal, and it’s time for a bath.
    The Munch: I WANNA WATCH ONE MORE “MY LITTLE PONY!!!”
    Toni: Dude. You and I had an agreement, and you have to honor it.
    The Munch: YOU’RE THE WORST MOMMY IN THE WHOLE WORLD!
    Toni: Munch, I know it’s disappointing, and you want to watch your show, but that doesn’t mean you have to deflect your anger onto me. You have to look inside yourself and realize that you made a promise, and it’s not my fault I am making you keep it. Instead of caring about me, and how I’m not letting you do what you want, you should instead care about you, and learning how to keep your word.
    The Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

    But other times, it actually has been making an impact.

    The Munch: Mommy, did you remember to pack my stuffed animal?
    Toni: Oh no. I forgot. I’m sorry.
    The Munch: That’s okay. I should have reminded you.

    See how much easier it is to get along when we all just take responsibility for ourselves!!!

    (Ps she totally did remind me…)

    munch in van

    March 30, 2016 • 5 years old, Behavior, Mommyhood, Parenting, Relationships • Views: 396

  • Chemical Candy Chaos!

    I am the type of person that would rather go hungry than to eat food that I don’t like, or is bad quality. Eating is such a pleasurable experience for me, and goes way beyond the basic need to fill my stomach. I want to have a tantric experience with my meals. I don’t want to eat just because I am hungry – I want my wet mouth to orgasm while I fill it with delicious sausages.

    Local and organic of course.

    Maybe this can be annoying for others – especially for those who want to just eat and move on with the day but have to instead wait for me to find the perfect artisanal pizza place specializing in hand foraged pixy farts.

    For example: There was this one time when I went hiking in the Swiss Alps with my boyfriend and friend, and we got really lost. We finally came across a sign that read “Wanderweg” and decided we would go there, and take the train home. We followed the path for a few miles, then came across another sign that said “Wanderweg.” This sign, however, pointed in another direction. We were confused, but followed that path for another few miles. We then came across two signs, that pointed in opposite directions, and they BOTH read “Wanderweg.”

    Toni: Where the fuck is Wanderweg!!!??

    Finally we passed some other hikers who explained that “wanderweg” means “path.”

    We didn’t get off the mountain until 10 at night, and had been hiking for 12 hours with no food or water. When we finally got to the small town, everything was closed except for one restaurant. Inside there was an old man smoking cigarettes and chewing on his hands. He showed us the menu, which consisted of a variety of canned meat.

    Toni: Ummm I don’t think I’m gonna eat here.
    My Boyfriend: What??! DUDE I am starving! Lets just eat! There is nowhere else?
    Toni: It just doesn’t look very good. And the smoke is bothering me. I won’t even be able to taste anything. Maybe we can take the train to the next town? Or walk there?

    And that was the day my boyfriend strangled me.

    And here is a story where my 5-year old almost choked the fuck out of me. The Munch and I were coming back from a road trip, and had been in the car for a few hours. She told me she needed to go to the bathroom, so I pulled over at a gas station. Once we were inside, she wanted a treat.

    The Munch: I want a treat.
    Toni: No. Not here. I can’t.
    The Munch: But MOM I AM REALLY HUNGRY! YOU DIDN’T GIVE ME DINNER AND I WANT A TREAT.
    Toni: I can’t buy you chemical candy.
    The Munch: PLEASE!? What about these?
    Toni: Sour Patch kids? No way dude! Those are chemical kids coated with sugar flavored chemicals.
    The Munch: What about these??
    Toni: Reece’s? Those are just partially hydrogenated oil patties. I can’t. I can’t support those companies. I can’t get you these natural nuts? Or GMO free chips if you are hungry.
    The Munch: BUT I WANT A TREAT!
    Toni: It’s not going to happen.
    The Munch: FINE!!!

    The Munch STORMED back into the car. She was PISSED! When we finally got home a few hours later, she was STILL mad! She went to bed furious at me.

    The Munch: I REALLY WANTED A TREAT!

    The next morning when she woke up, she still had the idea of treats on her mind.

    The Munch: Can I have a treat?
    Toni: Yes you can… but we have to go to the Green Grocer to buy one, because we have nothing here.
    The Munch: That’s too far! I don’t want to get back in the car!
    Toni: Neither do I!
    The Munch: Let’s go to the General Store.
    Toni: I can’t do that. All they have is chemical treats. If you want a treat we have to go to the Green Grocer.
    The Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

    It’s not like she doesn’t KNOW I only buy organic food. The Munch is FULLY AWARE that I am never happy when someone gives her chemical candy to eat. Halloween was a big challenge for me! We had agreed that was the only chemical candy she would eat. But for whatever reason, she was NOT feeling my commitment to quality food this day.

    Toni: Dude I am not saying you can’t have a treat. I am saying you can’t have a chemical treat. The Green Grocer is five minutes farther than the General Store. Let’s just go there.
    The Munch: BUT I DON’T WANT TO WAIT THAT LONG!
    Toni: Can I tell you why I don’t want you to eat chemical candy?
    The Munch: FINE!
    Toni: Do you remember what war is?
    The Munch: When people kill each other for power?
    Toni: Yes… and back during World War 2, the Americans developed a chemical called “agent orange” to kill people. But when the war was over, they started using those chemicals on the food as pesticides – to kill the bugs. But pesticides kill all life – including butterflies, bees, and even birds!
    The Munch: BIRDS TOO?
    Toni: YES! And then we eat those pesticides! And these same companies have also have genetically modified plants, created a monopoly on seeds, and are arguably destroying the farming community. Plus… we don’t know the long-term impact of eating GMO tomatoes with fish genes in them.
    The Munch: I don’t want fishy tomatoes!
    Toni: And you know cancer? Since we have been doing this to our food, more and more people have been getting cancer. It’s hard to say it’s not related. So I don’t want to support these companies, because when I give them my money, I am saying that it’s okay to poison food, poison people, and poison the land.
    The Munch: Fine we can go to the Green Grocer. But I am getting TWO treats.

    “Seriously Mom, can you just shut your mouth hole?”

    munch shutting up toni

  • Health and Healing Hypocrisy

    I see all physical ailments as metaphysical messages. I believe our souls communicate to our egos through the language of the body. Every time I am sick, hurt, or in pain – I see it as an opportunity to dig deep in the bowels of my inner being, and extract a warm brown piece of who I really am.

    Because of this belief system, I never take western medicine. The medical establishment may lesson your symptoms, but it drives your sickness deeper inside. When you take pills for momentary relief, you are denying yourself the opportunity of self-reflection. Rather than trying to mask my pain, I will willingly sit in it so as to discover what it is I need to learn.

    Yet when my kid is suffering, I just want her to stop complaining – I mean I just want her to get better fast.

    The Munch was really miserable the other day. Usually when she is sick, she takes it as an opportunity to watch TV all day. Yet this time, she was in such a state of distress, that she wouldn’t even watch “My Little Pony!” She said that her eyes hurt too much to open them, and was writhing around in my bed in a state of physical crisis. The only thing I could do was to tickle her back to relax her.

    I felt so helpless. It’s traumatizing to see your child in anguish. But she was also being really dramatic and annoying about it. Sorry that was my auto correct. I meant to write; she was being SUPER dramatic and annoying about it.

    At first I tried to examine the mystical meaning of what was going on with her.

    Munch: MOMMY! It hurts! Wahhhahhhhaaa!
    Toni: I know it does sweetie. Can you tell me what it feels like?
    Munch: My eyes are pushing into my mouth.
    Toni: What do you think that means? What is it you don’t want to see? Or don’t want to say?
    Munch: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? My eyes and mouth just hurt! Wahhhaaahha!
    Toni: I hear you – but what do you think is the significance of your eyes hurting? Do you feel like there is some hidden question you could be asking yourself? What are your eyes and mouth trying to teach you?
    Munch: MY FACE HURTS! WAHAHHHHAHH
    Toni: Is there something about yourself that you have to face, and that’s why your face hurts?
    Munch: I DON’T KNOW! I JUST KNOW IT HURTS!!!

    My philosophical inquiry wasn’t exactly getting to the bottom of things. The Munch didn’t seem too interested interested in delving into the spiritual significance of what was going on with her health.

    Then my mom called.

    My Mom: I think she has allergies.
    Toni: How do you know?
    My Mom: Because she is experiencing the same symptoms I used to have. Stuffy nose, itchy eyes, irritability… That’s why I take Benadryl every day.
    Toni: But what do you think that your runny nose and itchy eyes are trying to tell you mom? Is your nose running perhaps a metaphor for something else you are running from?
    My Mom: Jesus Toni, it’s just seasonal allergies from pollen. Stop being such a hippy freak and go get your daughter some over the counter allergy medicine like Zyrtec.

    So I did.

    The Munch ended up sleeping the entire day, and I kind of felt like I drugged my kid. Which I guess I did. But then she woke up the next day, and was perfectly fine.

    hiding under the pillow munch

    munch sick sleeping

  • Am I Smarter Than A Harvard Professor?

    When I was in high school I hated school. I would go to the bathroom every class, each and every day. I guess this practice earned me the reputation amongst my teachers of either having a serious bladder infection, or a rampant case of irritable bowel syndrome.

    I also had no problem blatantly lying to my dad to get out of going to school. He would come wake me up at 7 am, and I would tell him that morning classes were cancelled, and to wake me up in two hours. Either my dad was insane for believing me, or he just didn’t care about my future. Regardless, most days I sauntered into school around 11.

    I perfected my mom’s signature, and would forge notes about my many doctors’ appointments – fueling rumors that I had some incurable communicable disease. I was even known to bend down to “pick up a pencil,” and then crawl out the open door of my classroom. If there was an opportunity to roam the hallways aimlessly, I took it.

    Part of the reason I disliked school was because I didn’t feel it was cultivating my own understanding of the world. I only did well when I learned how to anticipate the teacher’s opinion about the subject, and then alter my material accordingly. The process of developing my personal philosophies was hardly encouraged – rather I was only praised when able to regurgitate the views of my teacher.

    My junior year, I had this one English teacher who really didn’t like me. Maybe he didn’t view me as a serious student, or an avid intellectual because I was usually talking out of turn or trying to escape. It’s not his fault he didn’t see me as academically curious, because I did oscillate between being totally disruptive and completely checked out. But it was also kind of annoying that every book we read was written by a man and about male characters. Yet that was the canon, so that was what we read.

    Even though I don’t blame this teacher for hating me, and I am sure I could have been more strategic, but there was a deeper reason I didn’t thrive. My problem with this teacher was that I only got good grades from him when I didn’t read the book! If I hadn’t read the book, and could write papers or take tests purely on my notes that I took during class, he would give me an “A-.” But if I were to read the book, and add my own analysis into my writing, he would give me a “B.”

    It’s like he didn’t even care if I thought Moby Dick was a dick.

    I went to a super competitive private school in Cambridge Massachusetts. It was the kind of place where kids were having full blown anxiety attacks in the 5th grade because they got a 90% on their spelling test, and felt like that ruined their chance of getting into Harvard. At my school, a “B” was the kiss of death. I might as well have flushed my head down the toilet for shaming my family. It was clear that soon I would have to build a raft and set myself out to the ocean for all the disgrace I was causing.

    I told my dad that my English teacher gave me bad grades because he didn’t like me, rather than my shitty “B’s” being a genuine reflection of my efforts. My dad however, didn’t believe me. He thought that I wasn’t applying myself, and would tell me to work harder.

    One day, I decided to put my dad’s theory to the test. Was it really my fault I wasn’t doing well in this class?

    It was the end of the school year, and I had two papers to write. They were both due the next day, and there was no way I could finish them both, or get an extension. I went upstairs to my dad’s office to discuss my predicament.

    Toni: Here’s the deal. I have two papers due tomorrow, and I can’t write them both. If I don’t hand one in, I will get an F on that paper – which will not look good when I apply to colleges.

    My Dad: You bet your ass it won’t. This is not good Toni.

    Toni: I know. So this is what is going to happen. I will write one, and you can write the other.

    My Dad: Jesus H. Christ Toni it is 10 pm!

    Toni: I could take the F.

    My Dad: No we can’t do that. Then you won’t get into a good college and bring eternal dishonor to the family.

    Toni: You can choose between “The Old Man and the Sea” or “Great Expectations”

    My Dad: I am not happy about this.

    Toni: You don’t have to do it.

    My Dad: I’ll take the Old Man.

    I smugly tossed my dad the book, and went downstairs to write my paper. Okay fine, I was being kind of an entitled asshole. My poor dad had better things to do with his life than write my English papers, but at the same time, fuck him.

    Now keep in mind, my dad is kind of a genius. He graduated high school when he was 16. Blasted through college in 2 years. Got his PHD from Harvard when he was 23. Speaks 22 languages. He writes a book almost every year of his life. In short, my dad is way smarter than the average high school student.

    My dad should have received a good grade on this paper right? He was after all competing against the standards of 17-year-old kids. If my English teacher was truly giving each paper I wrote a fair chance and not typecasting me, this essay should have done well right?!!

    I handed in the two papers, and when I got them back, I got a “B+” and my dad, THE GENIUS HARVARD PROFESSOR, got a “B.”

    Toni: So dad, since I got the better grade, does that mean I’m smarter than you?”

    My Dad: WHAT!? I got a “B?” I really tried too! I didn’t even dumb myself down! That teacher of yours really is an asshole.

    Look at that guy! HE DOES NOT DESERVE A “B” FROM A HIGH SCHOOL ENGLISH TEACHER!

    218023_1025466730208_5564_n

    February 25, 2016 • Education, Family Drama, Old School Stories • Views: 528

  • An Analysis of Our Selfie-Society

    When I was a kid, I took pictures for myself. I would occasionally snap a shot of whatever I found interesting with the intention that I would look at it later. My motivation wasn’t rooted in what other people would think of my pictures. The only way someone else would even see my pictures was if they were in front of me, I handed them a picture, and then said, “look.” Otherwise my pictures were in a box under my bed.

    Because of social media and our ability to share pictures, now I take a LOT more pictures for you. I want to know what YOU think of my pictures more than I want to take pictures that I show no one. What is the point of taking a picture that is not worthy of distribution!?

    Maybe we take some pictures purely for ourselves, but chances are those pictures are of a mysterious rash on your back that you can’t see in the mirror. I am willing to bet most of us only have a few sacred pictures that we like, but don’t intend on sharing on social media. And I am also willing to bet most of those are naked pictures.

    I think most of us are somewhat disturbed by the vanity running rampant through culture, yet we also participate in the seduction. It feels good when I get approval from my peers, even if it’s superficial. “Oh really… you think my hair looks good? It’s so funny because I do too! That’s why I posted that picture!! Tell me more of what you think about me!” I have a black hole of need when it comes to praise. All compliments are vastly appreciated, but also sucked into a dark abyss that will never be satiated.

    When I try to get to the bottom of the phenomenon of our modern selfie-society I think there are two major themes. One is the ever-present fear of mortality. In the back of our minds lies the existential truth that every second of every day we are getting older, thus ever closer to our death. The selfie is a preservation of youth – a snapshot of the narrative of our lives. “Ahhh. Remember when I was young, two minutes ago? Look at me then. So full of hope. Wait let me take another.”

    We selfie as a desperate attempt to freeze time.

    Then there is the fact that we are all so deeply insecure and in need for love/acceptance/praise. We don’t selfie because we think we’re that great. I selfie because I pray you think I’m okay.

    toni color selfie

    February 22, 2016 • Musings • Views: 298

  • Over Intellectualizing Pop Songs

    Taylor Swift’s Blank Space

    Cause we’re young and we’re reckless
    We’ll take this way too far
    It’ll leave you breathless
    Or with a nasty scar
    Got a long list of ex-lovers
    They’ll tell you I’m insane
    But I got a blank space baby
    And I’ll write your name

    Blank Space is about dark matter and the terrifying reality that the human brain cannot understand the mysterious substance that constitutes 98% of the universe. Dark matter is so complex, that our psyche’s can’t grasp its physical properties. Most of the world around us is made up of space, yet because our brain is so limited, we perceive things as solid. Yet in truth, all of us, ex lovers included, are truly insane for believing we are anything but blank space in this cold dark universe.

    Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now”

    Running just as fast as we can, holding on to one another hands
    Trying to get away into the night and then you put your arms around me
    And we tumble to the ground and then you say

    I think we’re alone now,
    There doesn’t seem to be anyone around
    I think we’re alone now,
    The beating of our hearts is the only sound

    This song is about atheism, and coming to terms with the idea that there is no God. We turn to each other, holding hands, trying to run from this harsh reality. You embrace me in a desperate attempt to make sense of this existential crisis, but we still tumble to the ground. We fall into an abyss of blackness, because that is where we go where we die – back into the darkness. I think we’re alone, because there is no God in the background. He is not around to save you. The only thing you are left with is the sound of your own beating heart, before it stops beating for the last time.

    Brittany Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time”

    Oh, baby, baby
    Oh, baby, baby

    Oh, baby, baby
    How was I supposed to know
    That something wasn’t right here?
    Oh, baby, baby
    I shouldn’t have let you go
    And now you’re out of sight, yeah

    Show me how you want it to be
    Tell me, baby,
    ‘Cause I need to know now, oh, because…

    My loneliness is killing me (and I)
    I must confess, I still believe (still believe)
    When I’m not with you I lose my mind
    Give me a sign
    Hit me, baby, one more time

    Oh, baby, baby
    The reason I breathe is you
    Boy, you got me blinded
    Oh, baby, baby
    There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do
    It’s not the way I planned it

    This song is about police brutality. You thought the justice system was just, because how would you know any different? It’s what we were taught as children. But yet, something isn’t right. You can never let the police out of your sight. The only way to keep yourself safe is to have them show you how to act. To dictate your behavior to satisfy their needs.

    The loneliness in this uncaring world, where you can be persecuted for being the wrong skin color, or wearing the wrong type of sweatshirt, IS actually killing me – both literally and figuratively. I think I need the police to protect me, but this dependency on the very institution that is hurting me, is making me lose my mind. I don’t know what the world would look like without laws and the lawmakers that enforce them, because there is no obvious sign that there is another way. So hit me one more time, because you’ve already hit me a bunch. You, Mr. Police Man, got me blinded because you sprayed mace in my eyes… that was definitely not part of the plan.

    Rihanna’s “Umbrella”

    Uh huh, uh huh (Yea Rihanna)
    Uh huh, uh huh (Good girl gone bad)
    Uh huh, uh huh (Take three… Action)
    Uh huh, uh huh

    No clouds in my stones
    Let it rain, I hydroplane in the bank
    Coming down with the Dow Jones
    When the clouds come we gone, we Rocafella
    We fly higher than weather
    In G5’s are better,
    You know me,
    In anticipation, for precipitation.
    Stack chips for the rainy day
    Jay, Rain Man is back with little Ms. Sunshine
    Rihanna, where you at?

    You have my heart
    And we’ll never be worlds apart
    Maybe in magazines
    But you’ll still be my star
    Baby, ’cause in the dark
    You can’t see shiny cars
    And that’s when you need me there
    With you I’ll always share
    Because

    When the sun shines, we’ll shine together
    Told you I’d be here forever
    Said I’ll always be a friend
    Took an oath I’ma stick it out ’til the end
    Now that it’s raining more than ever
    Know that we’ll still have each other
    You can stand under my umbrella
    You can stand under my umbrella
    (Ella ella eh eh eh)
    Under my umbrella
    (Ella ella eh eh eh)
    Under my umbrella
    (Ella ella eh eh eh)
    Under my umbrella
    (Ella ella eh eh eh eh eh eh)

    This song is about global warming. The Dow Jones, “Rocafella,” and Wall Street are all the cause of the clouds – the clouds of acid rain. When the sun shines, we shine with it, because our skin will be burning from the lack of ozone. We will stand under the umbrella together, as the seas rise, we will stick it out to the end.

    Black Eyed Peas “My Humps”

    What you gon’ do with all that junk?
    All that junk inside your trunk?
    I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
    Get you love drunk off my hump.
    My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
    My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps (Check it out)
    I drive these brothers crazy,
    I do it on the daily,
    They treat me really nicely,
    They buy me all these ices.
    Dolce & Gabbana,
    Fendi and that Donna
    Karan, they be sharin’
    All their money got me wearin’ fly
    Brother I ain’t askin,
    They say they love my ass ‘n,
    Seven Jeans, True Religion’s,
    I say no, but they keep givin’
    So I keep on takin’
    And no I ain’t taken
    We can keep on datin’
    I keep on demonstrating.
    My love (love), my love, my love, my love (love)
    You love my lady lumps (love),
    My hump, my hump, my hump (love),
    My humps they got you,
    She’s got me spending.
    (Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
    She’s got me spendin’.
    (Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me, up on me, on me

    What you gon’ do with all that junk?
    All that junk inside that trunk?
    I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
    Get you love drunk off my hump.
    What you gon’ do with all that ass?
    All that ass inside them jeans?
    I’m a make, make, make, make you scream
    Make you scream, make you scream.
    Cos of my hump (ha), my hump, my hump, my hump (what).
    My hump, my hump, my hump (ha), my lovely lady lumps (Check it out)

    I met a girl down at the disco.
    She said hey, hey, hey yea let’s go.
    I could be your baby, you can be my honey
    Let’s spend time not money.
    I mix your milk wit my cocoa puff,
    Milky, milky cocoa,
    Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky riiiiiiight.

    This song is about materialism, and the social consequence of sweatshop labor. We have all this junk, in our living rooms, bedrooms, and trunks. Seriously though – what are we going to do with it? We are going to escape from the tyranny of our stuff by getting drunk. It is too painful to think of the environmental and social consequences of all this junk. The human suffering of children working 18-hour days. No. We will get wasted off of a hump instead. It is the only way to deal. We will celebrate corporate greed manifested through high fashion and diamonds so we can keep having sex, and demonstrating the denial. We turn to humps and humping because coco puffs with milk is the only NOT to not think about our place in the milky way.

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    February 17, 2016 • Current Events, Musings • Views: 340

  • My 5-Year Old Does Not Support the Rockefeller Drug Laws

    Every parent has a nighttime ritual with their child to put them to bed. Sometimes that includes a bath, a warm glass of milk, and reading a story. Other times putting your child to sleep involves a discussion about the Police state and Rockefeller drug laws – but to each his own.

    There is a heroin epidemic where I live in New Hampshire, and it is basically impossible not to know someone who is personally effected by this crisis. The Munch and I were talking about someone we love, and how they are dealing with a family member in jail because of heroine. The Munch had a lot of questions about what all this meant, and the complexity of trying to clarify the details to her made something very clear to me.

    The way we treat drug addicts in this country is criminal.

    I think the best way to tell if a system is flawed, is if it’s hard to explain it to a child. If you can’t easily articulate an issue, then something is wrong.

    When the Munch asks about what laws were, I didn’t find it challenging to express why we needed laws. When she asked me some examples of laws, it was perfectly logical to her why it was illegal to steal, or kill someone. There wasn’t a lot of confusion. But when trying to unpack why drugs were illegal and why people go to prison for drugs – that was actually really hard.

    The Munch: What do drugs do to people?
    Toni: They make you feel different – inside your body and your mind.
    The Munch: What do you mean feel different?
    Toni: You know how if you eat a bunch of sugar, and your body feels kind of funny after? Like it’s buzzing?
    The Munch: Yeah… and you have all this energy and want to run around?
    Toni: Well drugs make you feel different sensations in your body and in your brain.
    The Munch: Is sugar a drug?
    Toni: Well it affects your brain like drugs, but it’s not considered a drug.
    The Munch: Is wine drugs? Like how grow-ups drink wine and stuff?
    Toni: Kind of – but wine beer is considered alcohol. Not a drug.
    The Munch: Do people go to prison for wine?
    Toni: No… only drugs.
    The Munch: Why are drugs bad?
    Toni: Because you can get addicted to them.
    The Munch: Like how you say I can get addicted to sugar, or watching too much “My Little Pony.”
    Toni: Yes. Addiction is when you make a decision to do something you know is bad for you, but it’s too hard to make the decision to stay away.
    The Munch: And you go to prison because you have addiction and it’s too hard to stay away?
    Toni: Sort of. But also when you take drugs, you probably aren’t making the best decisions in general because you’re also on drugs. So you aren’t thinking clearly.
    The Munch: But don’t you take drugs when you are sick? Or have surgery? Like how you gave me drugs when I had my eye surgery so the pain would go away?
    Toni: Yes. Doctors give drugs when people are in pain, but those drugs don’t put you in jail.
    The Munch: What are the drugs that put you in jail?
    Toni: Illegal drugs.
    The Munch: But do people take illegal drugs because they are in pain?
    Toni: Yes. Emotional pain. And sometimes physical pain too.
    The Munch: So shouldn’t those people see a doctor for their pain and not go to jail?
    Toni: Yes they should.

    Since the Rockefeller drug laws were introduced, the prison population in the US has skyrocketed! We now hold the honor of being the number 1 country in the world with the most people incarcerated. Maybe the original intention was to make our neighborhoods safer, but sending millions of non-violent offenders to jail for exorbitant sentences has had a detrimental impact on communities. The Rockefeller drug laws are the most significant legal foundation of the war on drugs over the last 40 years. And despite the draconian mandatory minimums being removed 7 years ago, 48% of the people in our federal prisons are there for non-violent drug related crimes. But what if we started regarding drug abuse as a social issue to contend with and not a criminal one?

    These mandatory sentences haven’t addressed why people turn to drugs, but only built the foundation of our current penal system. These drug laws paved the path for the prison industrial complex that we see today – ironically with prisoners as the ones laying the concrete. When prisons become profitable businesses, then filling them up with people is simply free labor for Wall Street.

    So I agree with The Munch – maybe we should be sending addicts to hospitals and not prisons.