Are you there, Ann Landers? It’s Me, Karlee.

Did you guys see the movie ‘Detachment?’

If not, you should check it out. I found the film to be more than interesting. Sad and difficult to watch, yes, but very important. There are a lot of things that I don’t want to imagine, but it is imperative that that I imagine them so that I don’t become blinded by my own reality.

And I am. There are days when I become so lost in my pain that I feel as if I am the only person bleeding. But more often than not, I see it. I see it in others. It’s endlessly interesting to me to see the measures that people will take to preserve their hearts- almost to the point of never letting anybody see them again.

And that’s one thing I’ve just never been able to grasp, man. I have been told throughout my life that wearing my heart on my sleeve is unwise. And maybe it is, but I just can’t let myself get there. I mean, what are we here for if not to enjoy and help the people we landed here with? Sometimes I feel that if I don’t pass my love onto other people that I’m going to overflow. Some would look at my personality like a whore in a revolving door, but I would consider myself a majestic fountain.

I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason. I don’t believe in karma. I don’t believe that there is a force of good that chooses to ignore us or to smile upon us. But I do believe in making the best of it while we’re here, and that means lending a hand or an ear or a heart.

And yes, occasionally I lend them to people who don’t deserve the charity. I’ve cried, looked in the mirror, saw the size of my pores, and cried harder. I’ve actually thought about punching someone in the vag.

But I never pull up my sleeves.

Because there are people out there who do deserve it. There are people who speak and love and give. It’s these people I remember- not the peckers that screwed me over. I don’t want to be detached. I want to feel. I want to feel everything.

A Little Bit of Soul

Hey laaadeeezz, today’s post is especially for you!

I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, and I have to ask, what the fuck is with all of the shame? It seems that I can’t find a single corner of the internet where I’m not harassed by images like this:

Real Women

Look. I’m all about embracing the body and its natural form. I think it’s great that women are finding the confidence to speak so highly of their shape, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. If I had to take a guess, I would say that the woman who created this image was viciously insecure. This is not a message of confidence- this is a message of hate. Confident women do not need to cut their fellow females down as if they were trees in the fucking Amazon.

Let’s just cut the shit. While many of us may appear to be outwardly assured, I would bet that a good percentage feel differently standing alone in front of a mirror where there is nothing to shelter us from our own criticism. This struggle is NOT exclusive to those who are curvaceous. If it were, there would be no market for hair extensions, orthodontics or the muthafuckin’ Clarisonic. We’ve all been gifted with some kind of flaw that we feel less than stellar about, so it’s time to quit with the piss-poor attitude. It’s really not doing anybody any favors.

I’ve also had enough of the “REAL” bullshit. Real women do this. Real women have that. You know what? Real women have vaginas. (And even THIS is debatable according to RuPaul.) C’mon dudes, let’s think about this rationally: If thin women aren’t real, what are they? Amoebas? Are they less valuable? Do they deserve to be with “dogs” who treat them like trash? If this is the case, why do so many of us spend all of our time WISHING to be thin?! We are all fucking lying to ourselves.

If you want to be able to walk down the street without worrying that everyone you meet is staring at your arm flab, your double chin, or your love handles, then return the fucking favor and take off your judgy pants. If you wasted less time projecting your insecurities onto other people and instead spent it smiling and greeting them with kindness, you may begin to notice that the world has more to offer than the Guess jeans you don’t quite fit into or the three way mirror that fills you with self-loathing.

We all want to be seen for more than just what we appear to be on the surface. We’re all hoping that somebody will reach inside of us and discover something amazing and unique. But like all things, we can only receive what we are willing to give. So give more. Be a friend.  Tickle someone’s soul. After all, the soul is the only thing that counts. Your body will be left behind to decay or burned to ash, but the soul transcends beyond the realm of possibility.

 

 

The Straight and the Narrow

I would be an absolutely shit criminal.

I’ve thought about this at length, and those people have a gargantuan set of nuts. They are able to separate themselves from their conscience and just run with it, which is a quality that I do not possess. I smoked someone’s last cigarette once. They told me how they felt by punching me in the chest while I was sleeping. (I thought it was a bit of an overreaction, but I do feel that I learned a lot about consequence due to this series of events.) That’s about as far as the badassery goes for me. Anyway, I’m not sitting here condoning any kind of illegal activity. All I’m saying is that criminals have a certain air of confidence, and I find it to be quite the mind fuck.

I thought maybe I could be in charge of driving the getaway car, but I’m much too cautious for that shit. I’d be all like “Hey, stop being so yelly. This is a red light and I care about your safety. Also, could you please buckle up? I would hate to get fined.” I like to play Fleetwood Mac on road trips and pretty much any other time that I am in the car, which probably wouldn’t sit well with my thug friends.

There are a lot of reasons why prison is not for me. One of those reasons is jail tattoos. Everyone would be like “Karlee, let me inscribe upon your body this symbol of brotherhood.” I don’t think so, man. Hep C is not my bag, and I’m gonna need to see your portfolio before we go any further.

High risk situations give me tummy trouble. When I’m afraid, I have to make an honest effort to keep myself from shitting my pants.It takes every ounce of concentration (which I do not have a lot of to begin with,) and I often have to sit down because I get sweaty and light headed. Something tells me that nobody is going to wait for me to dook before we hop into the aforementioned getaway car.

I couldn’t hustle drugs, either. Mostly because I’d never actually sell any. Some dude would come to me all twitchin’ and sketchin’ and I would be thinking “Those are some sick scabs. Wait- that’s what they want me to think. I bet they are just very severe acne scars. This is definitely a narc.”

All joking aside, I think that the real reason I could never indulge in criminal activity is because I’ve never had to. I don’t know what it is to steal to survive. I don’t know what it is to sell narcotics to provide for my family. I don’t know what it is to view the walls of a penitentiary as shelter. While I feel incredibly fortunate, my heart still aches for those who belong to this reality, and I wish that there was some way for me to let these people know that they have a choice and a right to a clear conscience.

I believe that if we wish our communities to be safe havens for all who reside there, we must be willing to give back. If we live and provide for only ourselves, then we can expect every man to act according to their own personal agenda. We catch more flies with honey than we do vinegar, and I think education and rehabilitation are of paramount importance.

Life has a way of surprising us. Just when we think that we know what we are getting, the phone rings. Tires squeal. A storm blows in. We are never more than a stone’s throw away from desperation. And if it ever happens to me, I hope that people will see me through, no matter what mistakes I make, no matter how hard I become in my fight. I hope that there will always be a second chance to do things right.

Take It From Me

I said in a previous post that I wouldn’t be much help in providing sound advice for young girls about to enter high school. I think I said something along the lines of “I sucked shit at it,” which is true. However, I did make it through relatively unscathed, so I figured I would offer what little information I found to be universally true:

First, let me cover the wardrobe thing: I reject the concept of dress codes. I am of the opinion that fashion is a form of art and I encourage all young people to create. However, you must understand that if your skirt is higher than Willie Nelson at Woodstock, people are gonna scope out your goods on the stairs. Undergarments are a good idea if you don’t want to be known as the girl with the vagina.

Remember when your mother said that Tommy was rude to you because he liked you? I’m here to tell you that while it may be true, it is also a pile of steaming horse shit. You do not have to accept anything less than decency from anyone that you interact with. There is a difference between keeping someone on their toes and being a total dick fart.

There are going to be folks that try to intimidate you simply because there is an imaginary hierarchy in high school and they think they are at the top. It is a natural situation and it will occur in many areas of life, but you do not have to abide by these “laws” simply because they are there. You have the right to be treated fairly, so ruffle some feathers and make some noise. Chances are good that these people only talk down to you because it works.

Clubs and activities are not lame. If you want to play chess, fucking play chess, okay? Whoop some chess ass. Nobody is too good to do things that they enjoy. And for Christ sake, quit doing things that you don’t like simply because your peers deem them to be socially acceptable. You’ll regret that shit later on.

Understand that this is not forever. I know that it seems like a helluva long road, and it is, but you’ll be better for the experience. A high school education is worth more than what you absorb in class. You’re going to learn what it is that you want. Emotionally, academically, athletically, sexually. You’re also going to have a better understanding of what it is that you DON’T want out of life. Don’t phone it in. Some days are going to be harder than others, but it is important that you stick it out, because the only thing worse than entering high school is leaving without anything to show for all of your scars.

Lastly, I want to say that it’s alright to be unsure of who you are. Everyone keeps telling you to remain true to yourself, right? Well, that’s really important. However, there’s a lot of factors that make up your entire being, and you’re going to notice that those factors grow and change and some of them may even disappear. I still have no fucking idea who the fuck Karlee is. (I spent a portion of my life believing that I would be a ventriloquist. Then R.L Stine ruined everything. I was pretty lost.)  Whatever happens, don’t be discouraged- self discovery will be your life’s journey.

You’re gonna be alright, kid. Take it from me.

Karlee Attempts to Get a Life

I’m just going to put it out there: I find it very difficult to make friends. The kind that last, I mean. I like to think that I’m a pretty easy gal to get along with, but when it comes down to it there’s just something missing. I’ve always been told that if you do what you love, friendship will follow. I’m pretty sure that they were really saying “Karlee, you need a fucking hobby.” And that’s fair enough, except that I have NO IDEA what it is that I love to do besides nothing and eating food and more nothing. Living in my imagination is so much better than real life; I can’t be disappointed there.

But

I think disappointment is a key emotion, and it’s necessary to feel it sometimes. So here I am, looking for something to be disappointed by. I’ve been thinking and have come up with some ideas:

Being a Hippie- Pros: -Pretty decent at Frisbee

– Sense of Freedom

-Sweet Van

-Psychedelics

Cons: – Head to toe hemp

– Facial hair would run wild without maintenance

– Generally dirty

– Joni Mitchell

Pottery Class- Pros: – Playing with squishy stuff

                                       – I think that’s it, actually.

                             Cons: – Urge to smash everything that I create

                                         – Urge to smash everything that everyone else creates

Martial Arts: Pros: – Discipline

                                            – Being able to drop-kick thugs

                                            – Improvement of terrible motor skills

                                            – Being in muthafuckin’ Bruce Lee shape

                                                  Cons: – Probably can’t take a hit without crying

– Discipline

– Swoobs

For real though, dudes. What do you guys do for fun? Why do you enjoy it? Are there snacks? Help me out. I need to do more with my life than fucking around on the black hole that is the worldwide web.

Why Marriage Quality is Important.

  Love: I can think of countless phrases used to describe the word. It’s patient. It heals. It hurts. It lifts us up where we belong.

You know what I don’t hear? That love discriminates. Because it fucking doesn’t.

The world is a mean, hateful place. And it’s not the fault of the gays- it’s the fault of humans. If it bothers you that people who do not have the ability to procreate are becoming legally wed, I can promise you that it bothers me more that you procreate in the first place. Hate breeds hate, and it gets in the way of progress.

Maybe when you arrive at the pearly gates Peter will tell you how much God enjoyed your crusade against homosexuality and the sanctity of marriage. OR, maybe he’ll tell you that you should have minded your own fucking business.

 

Welp…

I don’t have anything to say, so I wrote you this poem about lint instead:

If you haven’t anyone to share your woes

To whisper the secrets that nobody knows

As the sun will rise and the sunflower grows

Count on the lint between your toes.

It’s consistent and steady

There to pick when you’re ready

White, black, blue or reddy

A mindless activity when life gets heavy.

The end.