What the Hell Were You Thinking?

I think John Legend took the words right outta my mouth.

Dear Editor:
I'm trying to understand what possible motivation you may have had for publishing that vile cartoon depicting the shooting of the chimpanzee that went crazy. I guess you thought it would be funny to suggest that whomever was responsible for writing the Economic Recovery legislation must have the intelligence and judgment of a deranged, violent chimpanzee, and should be shot to protect the larger community. Really? Did it occur to you that this suggestion would imply a connection between President Barack Obama and the deranged chimpanzee? Did it occur to you that our president has been receiving death threats since early in his candidacy? Did it occur to you that blacks have historically been compared to various apes as a way of racist insult and mockery? Did you intend to invoke these painful themes when you printed the cartoon?
If that's not what you intended, then it was stupid and willfully ignorant of you not to connect these easily connectable dots. If it is what you intended, then you obviously wanted to be grossly provocative, racist and offensive to the sensibilities of most reasonable Americans. Either way, you should not have printed this cartoon, and the fact that you did is truly reprehensible. I can't imagine what possible justification you have for this. I've read your lame statement in response to the outrage you provoked. Shame on you for dodging the real issue and then using the letter as an opportunity to attack Rev. Sharpton. This is not about Rev. Sharpton. It's about the cartoon being blatantly racist and offensive.
I believe in freedom of speech, and you have every right to print what you want. But freedom of speech still comes with responsibilities and consequences. You are responsible for printing this cartoon, and I hope you experience some real consequences for it. I'm personally boycotting your paper and won't do any interviews with any of your reporters, and I encourage all of my colleagues in the entertainment business to do so as well. I implore your advertisers to seriously reconsider their business relationships with you as well.
You should print an apology in your paper acknowledging that this cartoon was ignorant, offensive and racist and should not have been printed.
I'm well aware of our country's history of racism and violence, but I truly believe we are better than this filth. As we attempt to rise above our difficult past and look toward a better future, we don't need the New York Post to resurrect the images of Jim Crow to deride the new administration and put black folks in our place. Please feel free to criticize and honestly evaluate our new president, but do so without the incendiary images and rhetoric.
Sincerely,
John Legend

The Beauty of Being 20

The 20 year old body is resilient, strong, and hard as a rock-no matter what size or shape.

At 20, someone can look as old as they want, but the youth can always be seen in the eyes.

The beauty is not just physical. 20 means trying to see how far you can get before your birthday. You test all sorts of limits, challenge every word thrown at you. Your life is just beginning. You crawl for a day then immediately start running. Only to end up back under your family's wing, safe from your own craziness.

At 20 you live freely, getting up and going as long as funds are permissive. There is no "tied down." You can take off of work and go as you please.

Feel free to dream. There are so many years ahead of you that it is okay to change your college major like you change shoes. You have enough time to get it right.

Around 20 you might meet someone who sweeps you off of your feet, and at this age, it's ok to just have fun. There's no need to feel obligated to anyone. You have a while before settling down may enter your mind, so why get serious if you don't want to?

The firsts around this age are astounding-buying yourself a car for the first time, getting your first apartment, being in your first serious relationship, and taking a solo trip for the first time.

With all these glories of youth, why would I waste my time with your washed-up, 36 year old self? You have EXPIRED. You have children, and I'm having too much fun to be someone's step mother. I want you to dream with me, and grow up with me. You've done all your dreaming and have tasted the world. Your current job is your career. You are done for. Me? My life has just begun. So, why should I let you stifle my growth?

Anti-Turkey Day

So I am coming from under my rock to tell you all that I am terrified of Thursday. It has been forever since I haven't feared Thanksgiving. In recovery or not, everyone like me is on edge. My solution? I'm not celebrating it. I'm going to knock back an ambien and bury my head under the blanket all day. This way I can protect myself from the anxiety and spare anyone else from having to see me. I feel like I'm getting soooo fat. I'd actually prefer to just... deal with my issues myself. With my cats lol. 

HOWEVER, Saturday is my family function here. Hmmm... Maybe it's not the holiday, maybe it's the social eating that scares me. Maybe it's the fact that everyone will meet my boyfriend. Maybe it's the people in my family that I roll my eyes at. Who knows. Pray for me!!!

Generation Me

I feel as though I need to talk about old folks. I feel like after bashing young people yesterday I need to talk about the older set.

When I say old folks, I mean the people that are over 30 and have children. Last night my brother was complaining about Generation Me. It's "Me, me, me" with this up and coming generation. We have our hands out-constantly expecting them to be filled. He said when he was in school, he was happy to get a B on something, nowadays we fight our way to A's. I have one thing to say to that. Hell yes. I refuse to settle for less.

See I don't believe I deserve handouts of any sort. I believe in good old hard work-give-me, give-me, is not my motto. I will agree, though, that some do expect to be taken care of. But back to what I was saying-

Who sets these standards for us but our parents? Do they not realize that we undergo evolution, whether or not they know it. Think about sports. I'm sure at one time 60 seconds was a good 400 meter time, but people get better and faster over time. Times change, and people must also change. We must find something new to strive for. Plus it seems like anything less than perfect these days is irrelevant. I didn't set these rules, I just follow them. Parents do nothing but perpetuate the cycle that says almost doesn't count. You almost won. Well almost doesn't count Little Matthew. Any parent who says they don't pressure their children into greatness is lying.

My dad used to tell me that I had to be like my cousin Cicely. Cicely found herself a good man-she did everything the right way. She's educated, she knows how to talk to people. You should too. I love my cousin, and she is a great woman, but I think that parents should allow their children to carve out their own mold, not fit the perfect one before them.

Yesterday my professor accused me of trying to smooth talk my way through life when I'm actually sometimes DEAD wrong. That statement pissed me off, even though that's accurate. He wasn't saying it because he knew me. He has me in his class an hour and a half, twice a week. For mass communications-a class with no assignments, just a midterm and final. What could I possibly smooth talk my way through? He was trying to lump me together we those sorry excuses for students that he deals with daily. I have this philosophy: If you can get into something, then you can get out of it. That's when my smooth talking comes into play.

In conclusion, I'd like to thank competing mom cheerleading coaches fixing competitions, and dads fighting at peewee football games for us fighting our way to the top. Let's not forget about those go-getter moms who fight other women on Black Friday for toys for their children. Next time you point a finger at the younger generation, remember that lame cliche about how many are pointing back at you...

Here's Johnny!!

There is a scene in "The Shining" where Jack chases Danny through a frozen maze. He's running from his once-warm father. That reminds me of my life. I run through my own confusing maze. My eating disorder chases me, trying to grab a hold of me. Daily it feels as though I'm growing weary, but my mental drive evokes my second wind. I think the longer I run, the more tired Ana grows. This week is proof. I've been going crazy, but I've been able to fight the urge to wave the white flag and just stop eating. I think I'm proud of myself.

Anyway, my speech professor said something last week that made me laugh, but I think it's rather accurate. She said, "Sometimes the glass is half-empty. Sometimes you just spill the whole damn thing." I think kids constantly bump the table. You know that whole definition of insanity? That's fits in with my next thought.

Ok, today I'm going to talk about kids. They have lost their DAMN minds. They come out of the womb and try to sit up before they're able. Then they want to cry when they tip over. They try to go from crawling to running, and that has like the same outcome. They try to feed themselves before they can even speak, and the bowl's empty and so are their stomachs. They want to cook before they can spell cook, and they touch a hot pot and need their boo-boo kissed.

It gets WORSE as they get older. They stay out late with the wrong crowd, and they get brought home in cop cars. They stay up too late and fall asleep in class the next day. They have sex before they're ready and end up pregnant.

Wise up, children. Your parents don't tell you things to harm you, they tell you to keep your dumb asses from getting hit by busses or catching on fire. It seems like you can't say anything to them nowadays. I remember someone was talking about why parents can't hit their kids nowadays. Because kids now have GUNS. What in the world?! I don't have any kids, but I feel as though I am young AND old enough right now to say that kids need ass whoopings from time to time. My future children will know not to mess with me. Curse at me, and you'll be screaming bloody REDRUM.

I remember once when I was like 16 I was getting smart with my mom as I was coming downstairs. Would you believe I fell down those steps while I was mouthing off?

Start showing respect for your parents, or else you might as well lie on train tracks and play chicken. What happens when a dog bites its owner? It gets put down. Why should kids be any different? Fluffy knows not to bite the hand that feeds her, what makes you different Jessica? You need to be put down or put out. That sounds fair.

STOP PLAYING RUSSIAN ROULETTE WITH THE PEOPLE WHO ARE GOING TO BAIL YOUR DUMB ASS OUT WHEN YOU STEAL A CAR.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Well all play and no work will get Jack's butt kicked out of the house.