What Girls Really Mean

I hadn’t realized I was following a youtube celeb, until I cam across one of her videos, “I don’t know how to date”
I watched it, thought she was quite hilarious and I enjoy the accent slipping in.
I came to this video soon after, and couldn’t help myself.
Its too true not to share.

Personally, as much as I enjoy to be super straight forward about whatever.. Not all of the time will I speak my truth. Never will I first admit to feeling down, moody, or upset, I always stick to “I’m fine” because my problems aren’t meant for others? This is why I created a blog, I wasn’t talking to people about anything that upset me, and when I did, they’d tell me I’m too stressed, over analyzing, so I shut down and keep it to myself. A torturous cycle.
I’d like to end that.

But first, we shall watch this video, and feel refreshed by her wisdom of girl.

My favorites from her spiel.

I’m tired – I didn’t shave, don’t touch me.

Aw, I like that – Remember this moment, remember what you did, and do this again and don’t do anything else.

“Let’s Dance – Yea, I don’t care if you don’t want to dance or not, I just want to show you how sexy I can be because I’ve been practicing in front of the mirror to Sean Paul”
This quoted one… A personal favorite since I do in fact practice dancing to Sean Paul, frequently.

OH! By the way. I love the real meanings to most of our bat shit moments… Period. Simply, we are on our period.


Why I just deactivated my Facebook account – #FBrape

This definitely makes me consider deactivating my FB since deleting it will never be an option… So many reasons why we shouldn’t use facebook or most any social sites.

Sonsie's Basement

I reckon Facebook annoys most of its users from time to time. The surreptitious changes to your privacy settings, the new timeline, the relentless push towards a ‘share everything’ mindset. Until this week, my own bugbear was the insistent promptings to add my favourite films and books every time I log in on a pc. Facebook had even come up with some helpful suggestions (Dirty Dancing and Twilight), making me wonder if they think I am, in fact, a 14-year old girl.

Until now I’ve put up with these irritations because I have friends, family and colleagues on Facebook, and I’m mildly nosy. I like to see what they’re up to. Granted, there is the odd boring picture (I don’t need to see your dinner!) that doesn’t improve the quality of my life, but generally it’s worth it.

Today I deactivated my Facebook account. The #FBrape campaign of the last…

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Brace yourself, My wedding.

I’ve got a Pinterest account for taking up the rest of my time at work. I frequently have nothing to do. So my mind wanders between what I want to read about, pictures I want to see, ideas yet to be revealed, research to do. Lots I can do to keep busy. 🙂

Today, I went on pinterest after looking at vintage posts on WordPress. After a few simple searches and repins here and there. I came across a vintage style wedding dress. Then came my search for my perfect wedding dress since I’ve drawn, redrawn, scratched it out, drew another all together, tweaking it then just starting all over again.

So why did looking at all these gorgeous wedding dresses suddenly turn me off?

I have 2 tattoos that I haven’t decided if I’d hide them or not.

I want to hide my fleur de lis. And flaunt my rose. But. Dresses don’t work like that.

Becoming bitter thinking about having to hide my tattoos, the fact that I want to, just for my wedding.

It makes me not want one. Not want a gorgeous dress. Not want a wedding.

I want to skip the theatrics.

I have absolutely no reason to look or even think of dresses, but I was looking at photos, pins, not sites ready to sell me the dress of my dreams.

I have no dress in mind now. I’m sure I’ll look unappealing after a child. Its a dream that’ll never come true.

I most definitely don’t want a big wedding, or maybe not even a wedding. I’ll never get what I want.

I did not think about it when I got my tattoos, what it would be like to see them when I walk down that aisle, sure, not awful.. But, based on who I’m with, I just don’t want to have to deal with them or a post baby belly distracting from the dress. Its depressing to think about it this way, I know.

I understand a wedding is about two lives becoming one in a romantic, beautiful and public way. But its also about the long stride the bride makes in, she makes the show, she has to look the best out of everyone. What happens if I can’t feel my best? Can’t feel attractive.

I don’t do well when I’m being watched.. Worse when I feel terrible, and think of the nerves just beforehand. Weddings are stressful enough, its a wonder that not every bride becomes bridezilla…..

I don’t want to be bridezilla, and I don’t want to get so nervous and stressed I’ll fall ill.

Maybe this is why I never dreamed of my wedding. I dreamt of a sweet 16, all about me, and involved way more dancing. So when I think of my wedding, I think of stress, and dread, and the cost of it all.

And its ridiculous. I keep flip flopping in my mind the idea of simply eloping and inviting a handful of friends to join us not even informing our folks. Or, a not so simple wedding that involves everyone we know. Some backyard, church or park.

Maybe its because I’m so young, maybe its from the lack of weddings I’ve been to, I only know what I’ve seen. And that every event I plan slips through the cracks and I despise myself by the end of it.

Can’t be the lack of motivation, its the lack of people that care. No one cared about the plans I make. I don’t want my wedding to be another of those disappointments.

Thats it.. I don’t want a wedding. At all.

No expensive dress.

No flowers.

No invites.

No seating arrangements.

No unrehearsed bullshit.

No public Wedding.

Rant of the fucking week

This is going to be somewhat personal. I wish I knew a better way to go about this.


You chose a profession in which I believe you can’t succeed, no one is willing to tell you how very bad you are at what you “do.”

You’ve changed what you wanted to do so very many times, and you’ve never cared to try and get out there and get your first job to experience the kind of responsibility to follow the rules provided by someone that could fire you at any moment.

You still live at home, failing classes in school many times, blaming ADD or ADHD, which with how minor your pills are, I’m thinking that’s still bullshit.

But, lets get to my real problem with you. Other than the fact that we can’t get along, ever.

You are not a good photographer, you are barely even a DECENT photographer, and you think this is your life career. Taking photos that have no depth, pissing off brides and giving away the photo with EYES SHUT. You’re photography is a joke. I will never ask you for a favor again.

You’ve struck a nerve in me. You’ve really gone too far.

You are not a good person for the attitude you’ve given me and my friend(the bride)

I’ll remember this, when I think of who you are, when I explain why you still live at home with your parents to my children, I’ll let them know you just couldn’t grow up, couldn’t be a better person.


Grow up. Get a job. Quit photography besides as a hobby, your classes are not helping you, it should be more natural, and your pictures shouldn’t suck. MOVE THE FUCK OUT, you 20 something loser.

I did, everyone I know did and we’re younger.

You’re a self righteous cunt. And I hope my children never have to meet you before you grow up. In fact, I guarantee it. You will not meet my children until you become the adult I need you to be.

Seriously though, find a new career. I wish I could’ve told you how much I don’t like your work before you dug them into such a debt for your failure in life.

By the way, since you chose the school route, and I chose to work and move out and live a real life, and keep friends that don’t think I’m a bossy, know-it-all, better than you, bitch. Thanks. Thanks for the debt you’ve given them, so they could never help me with anything, ever. Thanks. Pay them back when you get a chance? Yea? A good 4,000 should do? Right. 4 years is it? How many failures?

They never paid for my shit, but I racked up a different kinda debt, and paid that shit off the second I could.

Self righteous bitch all right. Fuck.


The difference between being nosy and a gossip. I think everyone is a bit curious, we want to know what each other are thinking, the way others view us, the way others view themselves, what they do behind closed doors, who they get to see naked.

It can’t be just me.

We are all curious, and somewhat nosy, in our own ways.

Where is the line between nosy and simply being a gossip though? And why is it so hard for so many people to see the difference?

For me, Highschool wasn’t entirely dreadful, well I like to think it wasn’t…. I wasn’t openly made fun of or beaten up or picked on by too many of the upperclassmen. I got along with just about every person I opened up to, and if I didn’t they heard something about me, true or not and left me secluded.

I did not befriend those that listened or spewed gossip. I heard one of my brief “friends” inform me of different rumors she’d heard about me. All of which I’m sure were lies. Or possibly worse, the truth. I still never took the time to ask about them, find out anything, or spread anything myself. I never listened to what someone had to say about ANYONE I was friends with, and I didn’t care to listen about the people I didn’t know. I did not follow gossip, and I did not keep friends that do.

I want to say I was raised better, but I can’t proclaim that, though my father would appreciate if we’d keep our mouths shut about anything other than our own business, and spread nothing we didn’t absolutely KNOW was true, not to be know-it-alls, and to treat others kindly and with respect. So. I tried to stick to that and hold onto his wisdom best I could.

Other than my father and I assume my brother, they talk. We talk. I still slip and jump in on some conversations, some gossip, I listen when I hear them chatter away degrading the rest of the family.

You wouldn’t believe how much shit talking there is. We are a terrible excuse for a family.

Everyone has something to say, I’m grateful I’m not going to our “family reunions.” When I was little and hung out with the kids, I didn’t hear it, or at least didn’t notice. But as I got older and wanted to sit with the “adults” at the campfire, shit got real. If they weren’t bashing each other on the spot indirectly or worse in a kind attitude so they sounded like they were giving advice.


Anyways, I painfully became aware of what my “family” really was/is and I mandated a change in my own behavior. First. I stopped listening all together, if you want to start gossiping about someone I’m out, and that includes Kim Kardashian. 😛 I think she’s beautiful and should be left be to enjoy the time she has left of her first pregnancy in all her glorious, swollen, gorgeousness. Haha


So its a trait that runs deep in my family, generations of women who feel the need to share every detail of everyone else’s life, maybe their own isn’t good enough?

Find a better hobby if so.


Its one thing to be curious and want to know, its another all together to start sharing the news of others, LIKE

“Delilah is pregnant, did ya know?” Not your business and Delilah and whomever can tell the rest of the world when they are ready.

“My daughter lost her virginity” Not at all business you should flaunt, share, or exploit. In either good or bad lighting. Not business that should be fucking shared.

“Did you hear that Ashley slept with her science teacher?” Fuck you. Just fuck you. Thats the stuff that tops the cake. FUCK YOU for sharing what could be false, and for starting whispers and giving whomever Ashley is, a bad rep. What if it is true? Why the fuck is it any of YOUR business, whether its illegal, immoral, illogical, or anything else. Still not you that did it, yet, you’re gonna spread that. Destroy the girl that may or may not have done anything wrong.

And why is it that when a woman has sex once her shit is on blast in such a negative way, but its fucking BRAVO to the douche bag that just ran a train. Once more, Fuck you.


So, what do you think? Because I’m tired of hearing about so and so and this or that.

Tell me about your fucking day, don’t tell me what the neighbor has been up to.

Try simply caring about those that love you, and leave the shit in the toilet? Yea?

I think thats a DAMN good idea.

But, I’d love to hear some feedback.







I’ve made a new friend. On my long train ride to Portland I’ve met a little old lady that reminds me of my favorite Great Aunt Margie. Better known as Grandma Margie.
This woman is just as sweet. Her name is Rose and her daughters are twins.
We’ve sat through 2 long delays together. Because our path seems to have lots of road bumps. A 45 minute delay followed by a 3 hour delay. I truly hope my train makes it in good time.
Ana is awaiting my arrival at the station.

I’M GONNA SEE MY BEST FRIEND!!! I love and miss her.

I’m just so excited.

I’ll make sure to post lots when I get back. I’ll be too busy having a blast with my bestie Ana. 😛

Have a good Memorial Weekend!



I’ve recently had my first “scare” in which I did not stop smoking marijuana, because I’ve done quite a lot of research ever since I met Aaron, I wanted to know, and wanted to be able to prove my findings.

I’m great friends with a new momma whom doesn’t agree with my choice to use marijuana throughout my pregnancy when I do get pregnant. This is for her, if she chooses to read on.


Here I have a couple of links, one from babycenter.com a site I was introduced to in HS when I was first learning the wonders of pregnancy. I generally trust what they have to say, but not this time. I enjoyed the comments and reviews quite a bit more.

Marijuana has never proved to be lethal or harmful. Doctors don’t care, they don’t trust your judgement, all drugs are bad, do not do them.

I do not agree about marijuana being a harmful drug to you or your unborn child.

Marijuana is not a drug. I do not consider it a drug. It helps me sleep, it helps my tummy aches, and helps my nausea, it helps the back pain I get from carrying all the stress in my shoulders and lower back. Marijuana relaxes me, and doesn’t allow me to stress on unnecessary stuff. I do not plan to smoke blunts or joints for they are tobacco, I do not plan on smoking all the fucking time, because I do like to be sober and enjoy the sunshine and enjoy focusing at work.

I won’t drink alcohol, smoke tobacco, or use any harmful drugs.

I’ve been wrongfully accused of being selfish, that its just because I want to smoke that I’m going to, yes, probably in part, which I could be considered guilty. But I have enough stomach problems without morning sickness to guarantee I won’t want to eat that day. I’d like to be able to smoke or eat an edible so I can actually eat what I want, when I want, so my baby will be healthy and possibly chunky inside.

The other site, a wordpress site actually, claims no harm unless the mother to be is being a dumbass and drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes. BOTH OF WHICH PROVE TO BE DEADLY.

Do not judge me because I smoke a plant, a natural plant that grows in the dirt. The meat that you eat every single day is less natural than what I go home to smoke in the evenings. Just so you’re aware. I am also an aspiring vegetarian, I very rarely eat meat, its not always necessary, and it tastes entirely foul to me.


“Back to the “doped up” comment in regards to mainstream pharmaceuticals……I, too do not take “regular” meds. That includes Advil, Tylenol, etc. When I was pregnant. I was prescribed pills to help control my sickness. I asked if there are side effects or if it could harm my baby. The Doctors and Nurses response…”Of course there could be side effects. There is a chance that this could harm your baby.” I did not fill the prescription. Didn’t they just recall a bunch of infant Tylenol here recently? I wouldn’t trust the FDA as far as I could throw them. It’s up to you, trust known liars or trust your instincts. We are not people you would see on “Girls gone Wild”.
Now where do you get the whole tobacco thing?? If you read some of the posts, there are recommendations on vaporizing with nice organic buds.You are correct about the many additives that are in tobacco. I don’t think anyone suggest smoking pot with tobacco. That’s very Euro anyways. You will be hard pressed to find people smoking pot with tobacco in the states, unless they are smoking pot in “blunts”. You have come across a posting board for pregnant women who understand their bodies. I guess we can just agree to disagree on this one.”


This was one of the replies to a comment a man made, claiming he smoked every day and felt harmful effects, marijuana must havve effected him much differently. I’m a bit ditsy when I smoke, but only in darker rooms or watching TV, if I get up and do stuff, I do fine, I talk normal, I continue to hold regular conversations with people, I just get to feel good doing so.

I applaud this woman. I plan to do the same, keep it natural, the only drug I’ll “dope” my baby with is when I get an epidural for delivery. I don’t want anything prescribed to me that could harm my child. Marijuana is good for us. Possibly even a great thing for us. So, shove it!


Another quote “Large consumption of Alcohol, and prescription drugs are more of a health concern for us than the smoking of a joint to make us feel relaxed for our babies. Everyone has their opinion, but do your homework first before you go and judge others. In my opinion you are a very judgmental person and if you researched it you’ll find that pot now is about half as potent as it was in the 60s”


I can’t agree to disagree, we’ll each want to be who we are. I will never convince you, dollface, but I wish you could see the proof and understand. I’m positive I could find it, but you probably still wouldn’t consider caring about it. I believe its going to be good for us, and I don’t plan on taking any chances with anything that could be harmful, I’ll be quite cautious of everything I do, eat, drink, and smoke. And I’ll make sure its from the marijuana club, so I know its not laced or covered in pesticides, because you’re right and my baby deserves the best if I’m going to do it at all.

“Its not about the high, its about the relaxed feeling.” Yes. Yes it is.

I hope this helps someone. Its only made me even more sure of myself. I will smoke during my pregnancy, only marijuana. And my child will be raised with hippy parents that understand marijuana and that the only reason its illegal is someone demanded it so for profit.

Thank you.

That is all.


I just want to know.

I just want to scream it from the top of my lungs.

I want it to be true.

Tell me its true.

I’ll know soon enough, I’ll know when I’m in Portland.

I wish I could be more patient.

I wish I could’ve waited til I just KNEW, but I hit that, felt that, I can’t wait.


I’m just gonna lose it, at some point, I’ll just lose it or demand to go to the store so I don’t have to.



Lets see where this excitement leads me. Hopefully in a VERY good direction. 😉

Bewtween a Rock and a Hard Place

I was not kicked out of my parents home, because I paid for my own things, and took on debt and the emotional stress of a constant reminder of such debt. Through a year of struggles, wanting to die, major debt to my parents, and a flip flop sociopath in and out of my life. I made it through it, and I lucked out with an amazing job, and got the fuck out.

I moved out on my own, only somewhat aware of what it really took to live on your own, to support yourself, as well as my cats. I make quite a lot and the month of my surgery happened to be February which meant I would be getting paid much less than before. While paying off my debts to my parents as well as Ana’s mom for the deposit to what was previously her apartment. So, while I paid off at least $1,000 of debt and paying rent for the past several months. I did it, February I was my most broke, and lost the most weight and my cats got smaller due to excess food at my parents and much less now that they were being fed by me. Little piglets.

I know what it feels like to struggle, and I understand that because I happen to have the perfect job to remain stable and handle all my bills, food, etc, that I was blessed enough to not truly have struggled. But, Ana did better. She made less, probably half, at the same apartment, with a cat, with bills and food and paying off her own debt but in a much slower manner. She can do it, so can anyone else.


I’ve taken in my friend, who is maturing and growing. And the original agreement was that she pay less than 1/5th the rent. And she pay for all of her own things.

My circumstances have changed, and the bills have gone up, so I had to rethink paying almost all of the rent when I’m never there or using anything when I do visit. Permitting her to use all of my things that I’m sure are handy to have around and expensive if she had to buy them all herself.


Making her pay almost 2/5ths the rent is too much? And that I ask that she get her own Pg&E and SMUD account, because its currently under Ana’s and she doesn’t appreciate another human living under her name.

So I’m paying off my bills and she’s closing the account and cutting it off once I give her go ahead. Probably at the end of the month.

Which gives my ‘roomie’ time to make her decision.

Downside is. High School Mentality hit me up first. And it wasn’t even her. The lovely boo decided he wanted to man up and take care of his woman. Whom didn’t need her help. Of all people, she can stand on her own 2 feet and tell me if she’s upset about anything.

I’ve heard nothing.

I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, unsure of what I should do. I knew I didn’t like those she keeps around, I don’t need the drama. I wanted a conversation. An adult conversation since plans have changed, goals have changed, and a new life change may be coming. A new adjustment might need to be made, and 2/5ths won’t cut it, I’ll need to leave and get my deposit. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens in Portland.

Intense, very intense

Intense. Thats a mighty word, one I’ve heard a lot of lately. I can’t be the only one that comes off this way.

Each emotion I feel, with the exception of anger, its all intense. So very intense.

The way that I think about things, spirals out of control in my own mind, even I can’t keep up with my own thoughts.

I was born with the talker gene, to want to talk and talk and talk and talk some more. But I was raised not to say anything that could be rude or offensive. Do onto others as you’d have done onto you. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Comparison is the heart of all unhappiness. Believing your better than another person does you no good, and makes you into a terrible human being. I was raised with morals to be kind, trust until you have a reason to mistrust (Though I still can’t let go of my trust, I trust til I wanna die from the emotional abuse.)

Anyways, I can’t help but feel the need to share this.

I know some have anger problems, or feel depression strongly, or are super hippy happy. And some are on drugs to make you sane and are able to control emotions. Or so I’m led to believe.

Almost everything is a trigger for me though, into sadness, into depression, into pure joy, or major paranoia( not a fan.)

Is it PTSD, or do we experience emotions the same?

When I hear “Real Love” by the Beatles I think back to the day I listened to it a thousand times crying behind my closed bedroom door blocking it so no one could come in if they overheard my tears.

When I walk on K street between 12th and 13th I think of Ana and I walking along there the thousand times we have. And a wave of depression crashes on me, making me believe she’ll never walk with me through downtown Sacramento.

When I’m on lightrail near my parents home, I see Luke driving by, I see the river, the levi, I feel my long tear filled walks/runs, I see everything about who I used to be. I see shame and denial.

When I listen to Mr. Saxobeat, I thankfully don’t remember the very first time I heard it, but I remember the first time I danced to it at my halloween party. I remember what it felt like to hear them say “Wow, I’ve never seen you dance like that” And its true. That song is something special. Thank you very much, Alexandra Stan for making it.

The first time I thought I’d never be loved, never marry, never have a child, when I first came to minor acceptance of one of the events of my past. When I admit to any form of abuse, emotional, or physical its after a long period of denial.


When do you notice baggage. How do you know if its been too much. Can there be too much baggage?


Event 1: Luke forced my head down on him.

Event 2: Luke talked me into flashing them in front of the car.

Event 3: Luke talked me into coming over to his place so his best bud could have someone.

Event 4: Luke showed at the parking lot next door, and when my mom came out to say hello which I begged her not to, he called me a bitch and drove off.

Event 5: Luke invited me over to his house while he had 4 guy friends over so they could all sexually harass me, grab my ass, call me derogatory names. Then drive me home drunk after playing hide and seek with me in some form.

Event 6: I listened to real love for hours to try and believe one day I’d have it, because I had just tried to help Luke and Camille get back together. I fucking tortured myself. As I’ve heard. Emotional cutting. Just as bad, without the scars showing on my skin.

Event 7: Luke waited to text me in the middle of the night, after having found someone I may like, leading me to  dump the poor guy, cut off all feelings and jump back to Luke. He did this several times.

Event 8: Robert invited me to the bonfire, I got excited and wore a cute outfit, as some would say ” I was asking for it,” Right? I’ve explained enough, the rest is in another post.

Event 9: I dated Quigley briefly, he led me on, and then lied about ever liking me, about ever even meeting me.

Event 10: 2 years with beaumont. 20 bags of groceries walking the few blocks alone because he never met me when he said he would. Stealing my rent money. Accusing me of cheating. Inviting friends over that steal. Inviting a couple to live with us that turned out bat shit. I got punched in the face and you cowered by the door. I had to yell and scream to get any points  across to the crazy bitch. You never stood up for me. You were needy, clingy, and crazy. You are a sociopath. I dated a sociopath.


Fuck. Maybe I do have some valid reasons for stressing, overreacting, and my feelings intensified often.

I need to save up lots of money and see a therapist, it seriously sounds like the only way I’ll calm down again, the only way everything won’t make me crazy all the time. So I don’t want to blow things out of proportion. So I don’t assume the worst all the time.

I assume when you text… it means something is wrong.

I assume when you don’t want to talk, you don’t care.

I assume since you don’t ask, you don’t want to know.

I assume since you didn’t reply how I would’ve liked, I must’ve said or done something wrong.

I’m always assuming I’ve done something wrong. That I’m a terrible human being. That karma has caught up with me for having done such terrible things. Having somehow been a terrible person to someone, somewhere? I must’ve said something wrong. i had to have. You have to like me. I can’t handle those that dispise me, most pathetically I’ve heard my friends claim its because I’m too happy, too skinny, too chipper, too excited, and that Im annoying. I just wanted to be happy. I’d give anything to be happy.

Well, when I’m happy, its so very easy to notice when I’m not, and then I feel. ” I should be happy, I should keep those around me happy” No one needs to know I’m unhappy, or worried, stressed or grumpy.

Then there are days I want to run up to everyone and proclaim “I just want to be loved.”

This is why I think I’d make a good mother, they’ll give me the love and attention I so desperately need. The project of keeping myself healthy to carry them, then to help them grow after. This is why I decided I wanted to be a stay at home mom. I wanted no outside stress. I just wanted to love and hold my child, raise and adore them. And to hopefully have a husband that needs me to cook and clean for them.

I know my future goal has changed, and that I should see a therapist and not just choose to have a child as to fix my problem. But, what if it worked? What if I was able to feel every bit of happiness in joy with my child in my arms. Well, what if?


Side note: I obsess, if you hadn’t noticed.