Thought Train Stations

Lots of writers like to let ideas sit and grow in their head before they really give it a solid word shape. This seems like a great approach. It allows ideas to explore all the train of thought stations and find the perfect one. However I have no idea if it actually works well; I’ve never used it. I have to write as I’m thinking because once a thought has passed, I ain’t thinking it again. That takes too much energy and I need to save as much as possible in order to survive the life sucking public education system.

BUT... I shall attempt this approach tonight. Because I have a bomb idea but I also really want to paint my nails pink.

Bam. Nails are painted, and also still wet but I don’t give a crap. I didn’t paint them to look nice, I painted them for the experience. Something about sitting on the cold bathroom tile in a silent room painting my nails with shaky hands is just so relaxing.

Frick, do you ever start writing about your silly little life and try so darn hard to make it creative and interesting, but then you read it back and realize you kinda sound like a manic pixie dream girl.... Or even worse, a pick-me girl? “I’m not like other girls. I only paint my nails impulsively to relax, I don’t care about my appearance. See, I’m quirky.” Puke. Seriously. Why is it so bad to be like other girls? WHY ARE WOMEN ONLY DESIRABLE WHEN PUTTING DOWN OTHER WOMEN? WHY MUST WE BE IN CONSTANT COMPETITION?

So about that bomb idea I was going to write about... I will not be writing it any longer. Time to think did not let it take shape like liquid turning to jello. Instead, I got bored of it and now it’s a puddle left for someone else to slurp up with a straw. If they are desperate enough, they may be able to convince themselves it’s just as good as normal jello. You can sip all you want buddy, it’s never gonna get better.

This is why I write while I’m thinking; It leads to weird metaphors with uncomfortable imagery that somehow perfectly describe how I feel. At first, the idea had the potential to be yummy, semi-solid jello. And after thinking about it too long, the idea became so unappealing that writing about it would be like using a neon plastic straw to sip up a jello puddle from the krusty wooden floor of a suburban family home. You bet your bottom dollar there will be tiny crumbs of goodness knows what in every sip; probably dried play dough and burnt casserole. Nasty, but understandable. It’s dang hard to keep a clean floor in a suburban family home. All them kids never stop making messes.

My nails are dry. I’ve just written 357 words about thinking about writing. And it is 1:11 am. Sheesh I am winning at life.

No, genuinely, I love being me. It feels wonderful to say that.

Natalie, I think you are a lovely, beautiful human being, and I truly enjoy knowing you <3

I truly like being alive.

Aw shoot, that went from weird to weirdly wholesome so dang fast. I’m so proud that I have found the humility to love myself. Ironic huh? Pshh

nothing about loving yourself is humble. Nah, shut up and let me put you in your place.

There’s a strange stigma around loving oneself, especially for girls. If girls like how they look, if they know they are beautiful, then they are vain and ultimately undesirable. And if girls know they are funny or smart or talented, they are vain and ultimately undesirable. And on top of that, they are also seen as annoying. Why in the heck can girls only be validated by other people’s opinions? And even then, why is that validation only treated as valid itself when the compliments are received with “humble” REJECTION. The girl must respond by self deprecating. If she accepts a compliment with confidence, she will only be met with disdain. WHY? Why can women not live confident in their ability, capabilities, and beauty? Why does society hate that? Nah I say toss that stigma in a dumpster fire where it belongs.

To actually get to know myself clearly, I had to first find humility. I had to be humble enough to accept the reality of all I am, am not, and all I can be, and humble enough to accept the passive aggression that follows. Our society pits girls against each other. It’s all about competition. So most female friendships will only work if you are not a threat (hence why self deprecation is so effective in building rapport). The second you own your worth, you become a threat, and most women can’t help but despise you; and you can’t blame them, because it’s not their fault. They’ve spent their whole lives being conditioned to react this way.

Society, you suck.

Sincerely,

Women