WHO THE FUCK WRITES ABOUT FEMINISM?

In response to: http://codymroczka.wordpress.com/2014/05/05/an-open-letter-to-all-the-shallow-girls-out-there-be-careful/ (A wonderful writer and friend)
Who responded to: http://elitedaily.com/women/open-letter-nice-guys-dont-stop-trying/

Dear Boy and Girl,
I’d like to rid you of stereotypes such as “nice” and “shallow” because those are characteristics that are determined with adolescence. Don’t get me wrong, when you choose to leave your adolescence, that is solely up to you.

So to the boy who is always “nice”, you will one day be an asshole in some woman or man’s eyes, I promise.
To the girl who is always “shallow”, you will one day be nice in a woman or man’s eyes as well, I promise.

Everyone misconstrues these persecutions in life because they hope for the wrong characteristics of the wrong people. A shallow guy may be shallow to you and nice to another girl and vise vera. It’s called a connection, not a lifestyle. Everyone in their adolescence and twenties are wondering why they can’t find the right men and women. It is because we are a liberated, sex-crazed generation. We need our fill on independence, most of us. You can’t find the right person because the right person is not ready to find you, there is too much opportunity to miss these days. 
So to the men who believe all girls want a bad boy and can’t believe how your niceness is going unseen; we are wondering why your niceness should automatically make you assume we would be available to you? As though you’re all we’ve been looking for. As though we don’t see what is in front of our faces. Perhaps, here’s a thought, maybe we just don’t want your kindness in a romantic way because maybe we just don’t want you. Perhaps you are only the shoulder to cry on, the late phone call for comfort, the laughs. Perhaps you are just the friendship.
And to the women who believe man is out to get you, I think our sex needs to look into a mirror. I say this with grace because I’ve lived with girls. I see the agony we go through if he says one wrong word through text, looks the wrong way or does the wrong gesture. Perhaps you are with the nice guy but society and insecurities have brought you to a boiling point of analyzing all male integrity. Perhaps you are with the asshole who I’m sorry, just don’t want you. You are not the girl he is changing for or choosing to be nice too. Men have the same option to reject us as much as we reject them.

We want to be equal and wonder why a guy won’t text us first, why a girl won’t just say how she feels, wondering why he isn’t texting you all day while he wonders why you’re waiting an hour to answer his text.
We can’t look needy.
We can’t look too interested.
We can’t look uninterested.
Seem unique.
Act adorable.
Act distance, but not so distant that they wouldn’t want you anymore.
Be funny.
Be bold.
Be truthful.
But not too truthful.
Be mysterious.
Be open.
Hope to be the change in him.
Hope to be the change in her.

We are a contradicting people who need to get their shit together.

We are all so caught up in the confusion of sexes, pinning words and jabs to one another that we fail to see we are one in the same, just because you don’t look into your pool of compatibility does not make you a Greater God. One would not be here without the other.

So, Dear Boy and Girl, you can be all the characteristics in the world, but you will be the right ones to the right people

The Movement of Nothing

I’m sorry this post will be a little somber for the spirit of Christmas, but that’s the way life works anyways.

So this weekend, I found out what moving on meant. Not only what it meant but also how it felt. I found out that everyone’s ‘go to’ phrase when you’re crying at a bar with two vodka redbulls in your hands is ‘it’ll be okay’. I get that but right now it isn’t, just move the cup up to my mouth, tell me to forget about it for a while, and tell the DJ to put on Adele so I can dance and cry at the same time.

After my fiasco with crying, vodka redbulls, and a long night of long talks, I went home and laid in my bed. Heels and all and cried more. There was crying everywhere and I blamed it on running into my ex’s friend. If that son of a bitch wasn’t nice, he could have left me alone and not talked about my ex for ten minutes while I chugged my drink and nodded my head. I woke up with a terrible headache, a horrible face, and a lot of shakings of my head while I whispered ‘what the fuck Sam’ to myself multiple times. Needless to say, I hope your Saturday was better than mine.

So what did I do after a night of crying? I went on all my social networks and did what everyone is guilty of doing. Something I haven’t done in weeks and decided in my fragile state THAT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO CREEP someone who wasn’t in my life anymore. Girls can be idiots. Which leads me to my next point:
—–>>>>>I think social media has ruined the moving on process, truly. I think one of the biggest mistakes we make as human beings is trying to stay updated with someone who isn’t in our life anymore. When we find something we don’t like, it hurts us, it reminds us that were broken and were probably making no progress at all. Yesterday, I found something because I was looking for it. It was my own fault. I questioned why I even do this to myself? Why do I look on his or her twitter or instagram to see what the new update is? I don’t care; I don’t want to know so what the hell am I doing? Am I looking for an excuse to bitch? Probably. I’m a great bitcher or bitch for that matter. I go looking for it, I find it, and then I’m upset. That doesn’t make any sense.  Well, I found something alright and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I ate a pizza in my room in the dark and my mom didn’t even question me. A hundred things ran through my head once I saw a new picture of my ex with his new girlfriend. But not one of them were positive. If you feel negative, you will only think of the negative, I’ve learned. My mom popped her head into my room and told me to come downstairs but all I wanted to do was sleep and think about getting drunk tomorrow. I hauled my ass out of my bed and my mom turned on the loudest Mexican music I’ve ever heard and started dancing. I had no idea what was even going on while she tried to do the washing machine from Selena. She grabbed my hands and made me dance with her and I laughed for a half hour straight. She never let me stop dancing and we never stopped laughing.

That is what moving on feels like. It stabs you in the heart so you can feel it all, but in moments, you’re laughing until you realize how sad you still are. Those moments are what I call physic moments. You’re seeing into the future. There will come a time where those moments will be your life and the sad thoughts will be replaced with some new sad thought or worry. I was happy until the dancing stopped and I was stuck in my room again. Then something else happened. I got a call from someone very important in my life lately who was scaring me all day saying we needed to talk. The cherry on top of the fucking ice cream. When he finally called, I sat on my mom’s bed with a lump in my throat. ‘I just wanted to say I miss you’ he said and repeated throughout our conversation. I was smiling again. I was pissed off but I was smiling. Here was someone who just made me happy for the rest of the day and I was so grateful for him to an extent he will never know. Within my day of sad realizations, there were always moments to remind me that I don’t live in the past and I’m living in this now where things are happening. Then I remembered… so is my ex. So are the people in my past, they are living in this now too.

Realizations…

Seeing the picture of my ex and his new girlfriend isn’t the end of my life. The negative thoughts I’m telling myself are entirely my fault. This morning my friend told me ‘I think the picture is a sign telling you that its okay to let go, that he’s going to be okay and that you are too.’  Yeah, within all my negative and sad thoughts, there was a positive one. Seeing things like that shouldn’t make us want to live in the past, it should make us realize that sometimes you’re better off letting go then reminiscing and here is your sign. If you go looking for it, you’re going to find it, bad news or good; and that goes for anything in life. Be careful with the access to unwanted or wanted knowledge. There is my rant, there is my beauty in letting go, thank you for living in my past moments, start living in your nows.

The Familiarity of a Stranger

That’s me down there: No, not the girl with her arms out, the creep in the back with the hot pink shirt on. I’m kidding, I’m obviously the one with my arms in the air because if I weren’t, this would definitely be a creepy picture to introduce myself as.

None of you know me, even those that do. So let me introduce myself. I’m Sam; full name Samantha, nicknamed Sammy which I switched the spelling of to Samii in third grade to make me unique. The spelling never stuck much but that’s a whole other box of issues I’ll open up to you poor souls later. Before I begin this blog I am going to warn the audience reading. This will be postings of my true life; my bland, honest, dark life. Not many “writers” do this because people who engulf themselves in their writing see it as a form of vulnerability. Writers are allowed to be whoever they want to be when they write. I am being myself; the hardest character in one’s story to write. I am doing this for myself, yes, but also for everyone out there who thinks true feelings are meant to be hidden. I’m not sappy, and I am nowhere near fucking cliche although that sounded cliche. If you hate oxford commas, the dirty truth, and fucking nonsense, this blog is not for you. For those that don’t mind, sit back, and enjoy the messed up ride I call my life. Maybe I am cliche, fuck.

Twitter: @samila_kunis
Instagram: samanthabridget

• I honestly don’t even recommend following me on Instagram because every time I creep myself I remind myself how utterly shitty I am at picking filters and taking pictures.
• I guess I’m pretty fucking gold on twitter, so have at it.