the social medias

Come to find out, I have absolutely no idea how to handle/manage/deal with social media.

As many, if not all, of you know, I fancy the Facebook and the Twitter and the adding on of unnecessary articles. (THE!) But as some, if not a fair amount, of you know, these little known sites have caused little problems here and there in my everyday life; namely, they take up way too much fucking time and I feel like I have to keep up with this "online persona" and that feeling gives me great distress and oh yeah, I have a whole fucking awesome library that I've completely neglected because I am too busy reblogging funny photos from the 90s and drunkenly confessing everything in under 140 characters and liking more and more status updates from people I know less and less and ultimately driving myself perfectly insane in this perfect un-reality I've created.

So.

So I'm going to do what every privileged white American gal does and exclaim, "I'm taking a break! Taking a break from Facebook and Twitter and Tumblr and Instagram and maybe even Blogger! I'm going to rediscover myself and get into yoga and tea and poetry and modern art! And cooking! I'm going to do everything outside, too! In the fresh spring air! On a blanket! In a park! Without shoes!" And maybe I will. For a few days. But I'll be back - and you know what? That's okay. I am a "terrible" Buddhist, but if there's one thing I understand about Buddhist teachings, it's that the middle path is usually not an awful path to travel.

It is about rediscovering not only myself, but about rediscovering balance. I know I have said something pretty much identical to this before, I apologize for being redundant. No! Wait! I need to stop apologizing, too. Let me, oh dear Buddha Santa Christ Child Heavenly Pagan Moon Goddess, relax. Let me feel fearless (but let me also feel and recognize and explore fear). Let me find what inspires me and hold on to it - until it's time to let go. And there is always a time to let go.

Okay, so I still want to write. I do not think I will ever take an intentional break from Blogger. I believe the "confessional" aspects of blogging have been overall healthy for me. Baring myself and allowing myself to be vulnerable for literally the entire world is perversely therapeutic.

I still love you. I still love social media and feel like it is so super damn interesting and outrageously influential around the globe. I don't think we've even realized yet the impact it has had on our language and communication. Point is, I don't hate Facebook, Twitter, and the like. Far from it. I kinda hate, though, that it has caused me to ignore the quieter, slower things in life. It might be idealistic of me to say, but I hope that when I return from my social media sabbatical, I will have a new perspective and respect for myself and others. I also hope I will have written. A lot. By hand. In gorgeous notebooks with silky pens.

Time to stare at a tree without an Instagram filter.

africa

let's just get this out of the way: i will not be capitalizing my letters very much anymore because i am responsible and eat (a lot) of food at my computer and a crumb has found its sneaky little way underneath my shift key and it makes it hard to press shift and my life is sooo hard and help and i bet kids in africa don't have to deal with crumbs under shift keys because lol they don't have computers or shoes. :( this morning i went to the gas station to fill up on caffeine and i saw the cuuuutest black guy. confession! i am very much attracted to black men! he was with his papa (or uncle? or older friend? or maybe they didn't even know each other, but there was another black man with a cane in the gas station and i just figured, "duh, they're related.") and they bought gatorades and they were clearly not from orem and i am just assuming because they were not white and i don't know why i am saying all of this because why does it matter and why does anything matter? because it just does. anyway, i bet i was not this man's type. at all. i look like a little messy boy in a weird floral print mumu. but that's okay. a girl/li'l boy can have fantasies, can't she/he? i've been doing a lot of assuming so far in this post! good job, me! caffeine doesn't seem to help me write anymore. no liquid does. buuuuummmmmer because i do like my liquids. so maybe i'll just sign off right now. maybe i'll go sit outside. maybe i'll do something "creative" aside from writing. maybe the writing part of my brain needs a gawddamn rest. let me get lost in the jungle of my mind. what does that mean?!

letter

Dear Past Loves,

Stop showing up. Stop showing up when I'm not ready - and more often than not I am not ready, unless I have just brushed and flossed and put on red lipstick then sure, show up. I'll let you know when I am ready. But mostly, I just want you to go. I don't want to see pictures of you in a park with her, even if I met her and even if she was fine and even if you and I are fine and even if parks are wonderful places for all humans of all races and relationships to go to. I don't want to see it.

And as for you, I don't want to see that you have liked someone's status. Oh, our digital age, right? Wish I could quote something appropriate by Jean Baudrillard right now. But why? So I could impress you? Well, yeah. Probably. I tried to impress you all last summer. Maybe we both did. Maybe we both had sore feet and high hopes and quotes waiting to be told. But we both got tired and just kinda... faded like the fireworks we never saw together. So that's okay. It really is. I just don't want to see your name ever again, is that too much to ask?

Many of you are married now. That's great. I mean, not great great, but it is what it is. Basically, I'm not mad at you for being married. Well, at least not the majority of you. I just don't want to know about your marriage every time I have some kind of superficial interaction with you. Is this selfish of me? I'm okay if it is.

I liked you. I really really really liked you. But you caught me at just the wrong time. Couldn't you have given me at least a tiny warning that you were about to come into my life? Then maybe I could have prepared and then maybe I wouldn't have gotten scared and then maybe I wouldn't have completely shut you out, only to later realize that yeaaaah maaaybe I should have held on for a bit longer. Well. That's that. I want to say the same things that I've just told my ex, my fling, and my married things - that I don't want to see your pictures, your name, your current happy life situation - but I can't. And that's what I hate the most; the fog that lingers. I want a clear sky.

Always,

Meg

go marry a horse

I have a sudden desire to write, but this might not last long, pretty people! So let me hurry and get it out. C'mon, fingers! Move quicker! At least I don't have to write by hand anymore, right? Sheesh, we were so old fashioned as kids. You know, just not-owning-computers-and-riding-around-on-horses-and-marrying-horses-and-ruining-the-sanctity-of-marriage. Yeah, super old fashioned nut jobs with jobs as nut farmers on a factory, not a farm, because farms are old fashioned and we are up to speed now with technology.

Thus why I am typing this.

So what do you wanna talk about? Oh yeah, this isn't really a conversation, is it? I mean, it kind of is if you leave comments and I ever get around to replying to said comments (I'm horrible at remembering to do that, sorrrrry). No one has conversations anymore and it freaks me out. We are all having conversations into mirrors and inside our heads, but never face-to-face. It makes me so sad! And anxious! But then I get a phone call and I freak out. Unless I am tipsy, then I'm all, like, "HEEEEYYYYY!!!!!!!"

Well well well. This post is going nowhere. I could take that last sentence as a jumping off point to say, "And just like this post, I feel like I am also going nowhere." But that's not entirely true, at least not at this moment. I feel like everything was at a standstill/dead end in my life for a good couple of months (maybe even years?), but now everything is happening at once. I am possibly moving in the very near future (fingers crossed) (but not actually crossed because that would make typing unnecessarily difficult), there's a special li'l someone in my special li'l life, I'm starting to sincerely get over this eating disorder business (well, kinda - maybe I'll always be in recovery, but at least it's recovery), I'm not terribly terrified of my future career plans (it'll work out however it's supposed to work out), and my tweets have never been better. That last one is a joke, but not even a joke at all. So serious about my tweets.

Here's a great tweet of mine from last night. Don't judge. Or judge. I can't tell you what to do! The only thing I can tell you to do is to make some soul food and go eat it right now with someone you love while having a conversation. An actual, "in real life" conversation. It can be done!

Anyway, I'm not actually going to copy/paste my tweets into my blog post. Heavens.

listening to all sorts of shit on pandora right now. oh, and i'm also blogging.

Okay! Time to confess!

I am so nostalgic for the 90s and the 80s and the 70s. And sure, the 60s. And sometimes even the stifling 50s. Will I ever feel nostalgia for the 00s? For the 10s? No one, not even Fake Jesus (as opposed to Real Jesus - he exists! and he's NOT Anglo-Saxon!) knows for sure. "Sure" should really be spelled "shuur," but you couldn't pay me enough to give a shit.

I have this weird rage when it comes to my extended family. I want to love them, but it's hard to do when they don't give a shit about me (even when you pay them!). They are good people, I know that. But they sure have chosen favorites. And that's lame. And I'm tired of holding on to the anger and frustration. In the words of someone who could have been my lover, "It is what it is." He's right. I have to move past it.

For some reason I am not wearing any pants right now.

You know what fungi is Meg Approved™? Bet you can guess! Oh my god. Dave Matthews is the REAL JESUS.

Let's all just save ourselves. No one else can do it for us! Realizations!