I Don't Like To Talk Sometimes

I am not much of a talker. I just don't say a lot sometimes. It's just the way I am. Plain and simple. On occasion I have gone days without saying a single word aloud. And I  promise every penny that my mother has offered me for my thoughts that it is not because I am in a bad mood.

Contrary to popular belief and the perpetual bitch face that I apparently have, I am not often in a bad mood. In fact, the first step to putting me in one is to keep asking me what's wrong. Nothing is wrong except for the fact that you won't leave me the hell alone. I sometimes just don't want to talk, or sometimes I actually have nothing to say. (What a weird concept, right?) It's not because I'm shy. It's not because I'm self conscious. And I swear to god it has nothing to do with you. Jesus, can't a girl just play Final Fantasy alone in her room without everyone thinking that she is going to leap off a building?

I talk just as much as the next person. Or so I thought until a family friend told me that mom thought I never talked when I was growing up. Part of this may be that about 50% of what I said had the potential to get me sent to the corner (until I was fifteen) or result in a giant blow up that never ended well. (On one occasion this was literally the use of the word hamburger.) Another part of this was that by the time I would get home from eight hours of talking to people I didn't want to talk to people anymore. Hence my mother was convinced I was a mute unless I was deadlocked in a yelling match with my father about how I could in fact actually play Age of Empires while sick. (That was an actual argument.)

I also really don't like having to explain myself to people. Yes, sometimes I do weird things and no I don't mind explaining to someone why I built a reading cave in my closet. Other times, when I am doing something completely normal like coming home from class, I don't want to tell you all about how class was class. (It's fucking class people! Asking how it was everyday is obnoxious. It's always the same. If something interesting did happen I will probably be telling you about it anyways.) Honestly, I don't see why everyone is always so interested in what I am doing. Maybe it's just normal human curiosity, but does it really matter if I don't want to tell you about my day? Even if it was a good one?

My dislike of explaining is probably why my boss when I worked tech support kept telling me I was being rude. To me answering a question involves giving an answer to a question. To the rest of the world this apparently involves telling them every detail even slightly related to the question. It doesn't matter if they asked, "Do you like spaghetti?" You apparently can't just answer no without explaining your entire tragic back story with spaghetti involving  your allergy to tomatoes and that you'd rather go hungry than eat jarred Alfredo. This happens a lot to me. Someone will ask me what class I have next and I'll say, "Humanities." Then they'll look at me like they expect more before awkwardly asking what that class is. I answered the question, but apparently it wasn't the essay they were looking for. (To be fair though, before I took the class I didn't know what a Humanities class entailed either.)

I honestly just don't like talking. I think my voice is one of the world strangest noises in the known universe. I'm not even self conscious about it. I just sometimes don't want to hear it. Yes, I do tell myself to shut up and no it's not for what I am saying it's because my voice is actually annoying me. I should just learn sign language and pretend I'm deaf. Then I wouldn't have to talk. (But everyone would be constantly shouting at me, so never mind.) I don't even think that other people find my voice annoying. I think to everyone else I sound like a normal human being just to me I get annoying when I talk too much. I actually think everyone gets annoying when they talk too much especially when they expect me to listen. (Okay, I may actually be kind of rude.)

My not talking sometimes has let to some of the weirdest conclusions from people. There are of course the above mentioned ones that I am either always pissed off, just never talk, or am just being rude. The conclusion that is drawn most often, however, is that I am shy. This is the weirdest conclusion that is drawn and it just baffles me entirely. I'm not shy. I never really have been. I mean come on people. I was the kid that at the age of tiny was sitting in the grocery cart singing "How in the heck can I wash my neck if it ain't gonna rain no more" at the top of my lungs. I just don't get the connection between not talking and being shy.

I remember back in elementary school when my sisters did a dance routine to a song by B*Witched (Oh, yeah 90s!) for the talent show and my older sister told me I had to be a leaf (like and actual fall on the ground leaf) to dance with them so I refused and didn't participate. (Who wants to be leaf?) Well, when we were getting seats to watch it a friend of my mom's asked why I wasn't up there with them. I said, "Because I didn't want to-" Then she cut off my explanation about not being a leaf and said, "Oh, that's right you're the shy one." While lacking the words at six, my thoughts went along the lines of "Bitch, I just didn't want to be a leaf!" (Why was my six year old hatred of leaves so hard to understand?)

The only time in my life when I wasn't branded as the shy girl was in third and fourth grade when I was friends with a girl who straight up didn't talk. I was only not labeled shy because she talked less than me. Then in fifth grade she started talking and I was once again labeled the shy one because she actually talked quite bit.

While all that makes me laugh a lot, what makes me laugh the most about this whole "Sarah's Shy" thing is that my younger sister is actually the shy one. I may not talk as much as she does because let's face it she talks a lot, but she will go to impressive lengths to avoid talking to people she doesn't know. When I was little and wanted and extra sauce packet for my chicken nuggets I had to go get them. When my little sister wanted an extra sauce packet I was sent to go get them. It is still the same to this day. I have seen this woman who is considered less shy than me, walk halfway across a town because she didn't want to ask someone where the restroom was. We had to go to the gas station so she wouldn't have to talk to anyone. (I suppose I could've asked for her, but it was her bladder not mine.)

A week ago we went swim suit shopping (it was blizzarding out, but that's besides the point) and we couldn't figure out where the section was stashed, so she said, "I'll ask this lady once she's done." Then the lady finished checking out her customer and my sister said, "Go ask her where the swimsuits are." Few things entertain me nearly as much as the ways my younger sister avoids human interaction with people she doesn't know. Usually it just involves "Sarah go ask them." Or if I'm not available her boyfriend substitutes quite nicely.

So, there you have it. I don't like to talk, it's not because I'm shy, and for the love of god I'm fine. Now leave me alone.

Food Allergies

I am a member of the human race (or so I've been told anyways) that happens to have food allergies. My allergies also rhyme, so I am only a half step away from being a children's book. (I'll probably write it myself and title it "Tomatoes, Potatoes, and Tornados.")

Now if you are a member of the human race that also happens to have a food allergy (an actual one. Keep those pansy intolerances to yourselves!), then I salute you for the massive pain you deal with on a daily basis. Also I'm going to bitch slap you off that pedestal when you start telling me how much worse your egg or cinnamon allergy is. Fact is they all suck so zip it and if I must I will introduce you to the gluten free, dairy free, soy free, potato free, vegetarian diet of my older sister. (Her genetics didn't quite get Got To Catch 'Em All only applied to Pokemon.)

Allergies are basically just a little rap on the knuckles from the universe to remind you that it doesn't like you. As a result everything food related is incredibly convoluted and usually slightly depressing.

In my opinion the most depressing of foods is pizza. Pizza just exists to taunt me. It's a round greasy delicious food that I can never forget because the internet is an evil little magic box that probably should have been burned way before I ever wrote this blog.

"Let's order pizza, guys!"
That's cool I'll just sit over hear and eat chips. Oh. They're potato chips nevermind. Oh wait there's others. Oh, nope they use tomato powder for coloring. Could you order breadsticks?

There are literally two places where ordering pizza isn't incredibly depressing. The best place being City 'O City in downtown Denver. You have not lived until you have tried an apricot sauce vegatarian pizza (or you may have lived a normal life). The best part is that it is more than "Can I have that with white sauce?" (Seriously, screw Alfredo!) And I guarantee I won't get sick from cross-contamination like a little assassination attempt from my food to remind me it's in charge.

Mexican food would be next on the list of depressing foods. I never eat Mexican food unless I make it myself or I buy a giant burrito from Chipotle where the believe no tomatoes should be an option. Going to any actual Mexican restaurant goes as follows.

Step 1. Read every ingredient listed to find a dish that doesn't sound too tomatoey.

Step 2. Ask the waiter if the marinades, chilies and sauces have tomatoes in them. (I have been lucky before so you can stop that laughter at the snort that began it.)

Step 3. Get told everything is cooked on the same grill and yes tomatoes are involved.

Step 4. Give up and order a plain bean burrito

Step 5. Oh, I get a side. Uhm... That has tomatoes... So does that... And that. I'll have two sides of beans please.

Step 6. Eat beans while playing find the tortilla.

Step 7. Proceed with flatulence for the rest of the evening.

Now moving on, let's talk about diners. I love diner food. Diners however love potatoes. Everything and I mean everything comes with potatoes. Have you ever ordered a breakfast skillet at those places? They're good right? Now take away the potatoes and enjoy your onion and ham breath for the rest of the day. (Also you'll be hungry in two hours.) I'm not sure if it is just good business to fill everyone up on potatoes or just plain evil.

Now right next to diner food on my list is anything that comes with a side of French fries. I am always the customer that is like, "Can I trade the French fries for sweet potato fries? No? Onion rings? No? What other sides do you have? Yeah, I'll have fresh fruit."

Now that we've covered food from Europe and the Americas let's go to Asia, shall we? I absolutely love Asian food. The main reason being it is absolutely delicious. The second being they don't use tomatoes and potatoes as the basis for all their damn foods. I can go to a Chinese restaurant and I have so many options. Only like two things I can't eat. I don't know about you, but I can live without sweet and sour sauce. It is victory that I can eat food without dying afterwards. I will never not get excited when someone suggests Chinese, Japanese or Thai food.

Now if you think I'm bad wait until you get my entire family in a restaurant. Most of the time spent sitting there is just us asking the poor waiter about every ingredient they ever use. (We tip well though, so we acknowledge our pain-in-the-assery.)

Over Christmas break we decided to all try a Thai place. With all our collective allergies it was actually impressive how well we managed. Of course we did end up with one allergic reaction. (A Robinson family reunion escape trick fake an allergic reaction or an actual one works fine too.) My younger sister managed to order the perfect plate of death. It was a curry of some sort and my younger sister got one with green peppers, her one food allergy. (Seriously, you had one job.) As son as we figured that out the rest of the time was spent trying to pawn it off elsewhere. None of us could eat it to avoid making it go to waste. My mom and older sister couldn't do it because it had gluten. My younger sister's boyfriend couldn't eat it because it had peanuts. I couldn't eat it because the sauce was tomato based. And my dad was just being a picky eater because it had tofu. ("I'm not eating that whale flubber stuff." -An actual quote by my father.)

To be honest it is actually incredibly impressive everyone in my family is still alive and we haven't all just decided to replace our meals with futuristic capsule ones to avoid all the hassle of the "Will I die?" debate. It's not like we could do the gum from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. All that tomato soup. Okay, everyone but me could do it. I'll just sit over here and nibble on my gobstopper.

On Being Serious

Today, is going to be a very rare moment in my life when I am going to be serious about something. Here goes. Ladies, gentlemen, and anyone else that bothers to read this, I am not a serious person. For some reason, a lot of people do not understand that I am not a serious person. I blame this partially on my chronic bitch face and partially on the fact that people take themselves way too seriously.

I take myself about as seriously as teenagers take consequences. (Actually less so.) I think I am an absolutely absurd person with a life to match it. That is why when I fall on my ass, am cyberstalked by a porcelain goose (a story for another time my friends), or manage to squirt lemonade in my eye, I am usually the first to laugh at it (after or during the required cursing of course). I take so little to heart I forget that other people actually care about these things. Mostly because I don't understand why they do.

One of the lighthearted things I do is comment on things people do or ask questions about it. I never mean anything by them, I honestly just thought that the way you put your hair up was interesting, or was legitimately curious as to why people put cereal in mugs. (I still do not get this. It is completely baffling to me.)

Today on set when packing up the leftovers of the sandwich platter, the person doing so said, "It won't fit." about one of the condiment containers. I simply replied, "Yes, it will." I wasn't trying to be snarky (or "snippy" as she put it). I just knew it would fit and took over putting it away. (By the way it did fit.) No one ever believes me when I say, "I'm not being snippy."

My parents love to lecture me on my snippiness or attitude as they put it. Yes, sometimes I do have an attitude and I still retain the belief that it's usually for a legitimate reason. I really don't like to put up with people's bullshit and am increasingly less willing to do so. (Note: The attitude lectures began after I started calling my dad out on his crap.)

For some reason when people talk shit about someone, deservedly or not, they expect whoever is standing near them to be on their side. That's when my eyes glaze over and I stop participating in the conversation. Don't get me wrong I have talked my fair share of shit, so I'm no better (exhibit A: this blog post). I just don't like listening to people insist on bringing it where it doesn't belong, like a film set. You have a job to do. Suck it up and bitch later when you don't have to work with them anymore.

I don't know what it is about me, but I am the go to person for people to come to when they want to bitch about someone. My coworkers did it, people on film sets do it, everyone in drama did it, most members of my girl scout troop did it. My theory is that since I don't care to participate much it just gives them a vast opening to keep talking. I normally don't mind listening even. People have to vent about stupid shit other people do, but don't do it when you have to turn around and see them again in five minutes. It only makes the rest of the time you have to work with them seem that much worse. There is a time and place for venting, but when you have a job to do is not it.

For some reason, that reason usually being sleep deprivation and tight quarters, film sets are cesspools for bullshit. It's a stressful environment so I never take it to heart when someone snaps at me or gets angry for no reason. It's not about me, even if it's directed at me. No one else ever gets that. In the past three weeks I have worked on six different films and have surprised several directors, by not having even once been upset or pissed off when they have snapped at me. (They always apologize later and I appreciate that, but I was never worrying about it to begin with.) I however am the only one that seems to share that sentiment. Everyone else stores it up, so that by the time we're done filming at least two people on set pretty much hate each other. And sometimes if the film set is really lucky there is one person in particular who gets to be hated by everyone on set simply for doing their job. (On only one occasion it was because they were legitimately an asshole and deserved it.)

I'm not saying people don't get on my nerves because dear god they do (and not just for their bitch sessions), but it is too much time and effort to worry about it. I have other shit I need to be doing rather than telling the producer that "(Choose a name) was trying to get me to talk shit about you." When all he said was "Me and the producer are just not getting along right now." Move some equipment, or gaff an extension cable, or better yet shove some of that craft services into your face and stop talking.

I have only been on one shoot where bitching and moaning was a legitimate thing to do. And that is because the director left halfway through set up because he forgot stuff at his house two hours away, he had us haul a mattress across the city by holding it onto the roof of a car with our hands because he didn't give us long enough cables to secure it, turns out he didn't actually need it, not only did I get injured, so did our stunt guy because he decided to change up the stunt without letting the guy know, he only offered lunch meat and hummus as food with no bread or anything else, he tried to get away with not paying us back for props we bought, but he decided be didn't want to use, and he made everyone stay until 1:00am each night on the weekend before finals because he didn't have his shit together. Unless they are actually being that level of an asshole, I don't want to hear it. Here's a snickers. Talk to me when you have your head out of your ass.

I may not be a serious person, but I will get serious when it comes to getting things done on film set. And that is when I have the opposite problem.

I can work and talk at the same time. I can even work quickly while still smiling and joking the entire time. And if I am doing something tedious that I have to focus on then I will ignore everything and everyone around me. I usually do all that before I get on set because I usually work art department. And unless we have to copper plate a wall in five minutes, which I've done, (it was wrapping paper), I can poster an entire wall while still talking to everyone around me in a joking and friendly manner. That is when people think I'm not taking my job seriously.

Today, I actually got a lecture about needing to be more focused and ready to help out. While it may not look like it while I am standing in the corner reading, when I am on set I will drop anything I have in order to help with what is needed. The standing in a corner is just to keep me out of the way and reading is to keep my brain awake. Boredom is death to my productivity.

Film is one of those things I take very seriously and will do anything necessary to get stuff done. Just tell me what to do. My ears are always listening for key phrases that mean I'm needed. I like to have fun with what I do which is why I name the list of people who are using props The Bloodhunt List and label certain articles of clothing The Dead Wookie Scarf or the Bipolar Dress. What's the point in working hard if you are not having fun.

So, no I am not a serious person, but yes I take what I do seriously. Why does everyone seem to think that taking something seriously means sucking the fun out of it? If anyone can explain this to me please do and I'll probably tell you that is dumb as shit. Unless it is a funeral, taking it seriously does not mean being serious. Thank you and goodnight. Or rather good morning because I have insomnia since I had to take my inhaler.

Maintenance

For the past year, I have lived in my current apartment and being an ancient complex with lots of issues stuff breaks a lot. (Seriously, a friend of mine's aunt lived here in the seventies.) Last year it rained in my bathrom not once, not twice, not three times, and after that I stopped counting. When they finally got the bathroom rain to stop, I was left with a giant square shaped hole in my bathroom ceiling that took them nine months to fix. That was my first bout with maintenance and at least then the maintenance guy was polite and respectful, so I could put up with it. While inconvenienced I had not yet reached a level of pissed. That was reserved for today.

So, in the past couple of months the really old garbage disposal has broken at least half a dozen times and maintenance has been called to fix it. The last time was a couple weeks ago when we had just tried to do dishes and after dumping some rice in the drain we realized that the garbage disposal wasn't working. Since there was still some rice stuck in the sink when maintenance showed up the next day, he decided that it had to be the rice that broke the garbage disposal that caused it to not even turn on. While annoyed with his condescending tone and pretty certain that it wasn't the rice because he said himself that it was rusted (Maybe a garbage disposal that hasn't been in use since the early seventies would help), I put up with the lecture and shrugged it off because it was one guy out of several generally respectful maintenance guys I've dealt with.

Then the fridge started to leak water or some other liquid all over the place. Again, since everything in the apartment is old I thought little of it and requested maintenance for it a couple days ago. While, I was away on set when they were working on it my roommate was home. They proceeded to lecture her about how the ice cube trays had leaked water and were what was causing it to leak through the fridge and out onto the floor. I have two ice cube trays, one of which is flower shaped and doesn't even hold enough water to fill half a cup. On top of that I rarely actually use them so they usually just sit there staying frozen without new water being added, so there is no way in hell that they could have generated enough water to mop my kitchen floor. While had I been here, I probably would have called bullshit on this explanation, that's not even the part that pissed me off the most.

When I got back from set, my roommate was out, so I attempted to open the fridge. Of all the useless things that maintenance can possibly do, they switched the side that the door opens on. Yes, most people have refrigerators that have the handle on the left side. Mine, however had it on the right and yes it was actually for a legitimate reason being that there's a wall on that side so if you opened it from the other you couldn't open it all the way. For the past seven hours I have been trying to open the refrigerator door and failing because maintenance is a bunch of dumbasses.

I can and will put up with raining bathrooms, perpetually breaking garbage disposals, cupboard and drawer knobs that like to just fall of every once in awhile, and even the occasional day where they have to shut off the water because some ass didn't have his heat turned up and froze the pipes. I will not however put up with condescending lectures about shit that just breaks because it is old and seriously you're not the one that lives in the apartment, so don't switch my refrigerator door unless you are actually replacing it with a new one.

I may look sixteen, but I am an adult that pays my own rent every month on time and has been doing, so for over a year and a half. Save your condescending bullshit for someone who is actually stupid AKA yourself. So, without further ado, fuck you maintenance!

Not So Passive Princesses

Frozen was awesome! Anyone that says otherwise either hasn't seen it or is stupid. That however is not the point of this blog because the entire internet will tell you I am right. Instead I have something else to discuss. I was reading an article about the ways in which Frozen is the most progressive Disney movie and who can argue, but I will argue with the statement made that all the Disney princesses have been passive characters. So here's to those that we grew up with who weren't doormats even though some of them found a prince. In no particular order.

Pocahontas
She may have caused some problems with all that magical listening to her heart, but fact is she was not passive. She didn't just sit there throughout the film. When her father wanted her to marry that one guy (Kocuom or something right?) she didn't. When John Smith got arrested by her tribe she stood up for him and when he asked her to come with him she said no. Pocahontas didn't have her ass saved by John, she saved John's ass. (For time and sanity related purposes, I am ignoring sequels.)

Belle
She ignores Gaston not even for a second putting up with his crap. When he put his boots on her book, it probably took more self control than you can imagine to not murder him right there (totally different story then, huh?). When the horse comes running back terrified, she hops on without hesitation to find her father. Same with giving up her freedom and happiness to take his place. She refuses to do what the angry furry dude tells her even though he has huge with fangs. And she even attempts to run away at one point. She does have more guts than she gets credit for. Beauty and the Beast may have some other issues, but a passive lead is not one of them.

Mulan
Okay, this one may be a given, but Mulan kicks ass! She is so beautifully assertive, it is damn right wonderful! She argues with the scrawny dude on his high horse about her father going to war. She won't let the matchmaker drink a bug (which alone makes her a better person than me). And if course she runs off to war to save her father and doesn't even give up when whatshisface (yeah yeah lecture me all you want for forgetting his name) tells her she's unsuited for the rage of war. So hats off to Mulan. High fives all around!

Jasmine
She doesn't put up with cocky princes trying to woo her. She sicks a tiger on them! (She may have some anger issues.) On top of that she runs away to have freedom, but willingly gives it up when it means saving the boy that saved her ass. She confront Jafar about it even though suffers from untold levels of creapy. She refuses to buy Aladdin's prince act. And above all else she is very glad to help Aladdin fight Jafar. When she's sees him sneaking in she doesn't just wait to be rescued she kisses the creapy old man, so passivity not one of her qualities. On top of that (and yes I said I wouldn't bring this up), even in the sequels she helps with the ass kicking.

Ariel
She's not the best example because everything she does is for a man she hasn't met, but she isn't passive about it. While not the brightest traffic cone she does take matters into her own hands to be with her fella, so she does deserve points. She also gets a few for blowing off singing to fight a shark and for running to stop the wedding rather than just accept it. Granted, that was after Skuttle did his whole raving thing. She's by no means the highest ranked, but she does get some points even if the motivation is all wrong.

Cinderella
She has a lot of shit to deal with. A crazy sadistic step mother and siblings that have been trained to follow suit. On top of that she has to hear their bad singing and do all the chores. It's pretty impressive that Cinderella manages to be optimistic enough to be in a good mood ever let alone not punch someone in the face. When it's time for the ball she doesn't just sit there thinking "I'll never be allowed to go", she buckles down cleans the whole mansion and has her mouse friends build her a dress. Then when it gets ripped apart in like three seconds that's when she gives up. Everyone needs help once in awhile guys. She wasn't expecting the fairy godmother, but she would be damned if she wasn't taking the invite. On top of that she willingly booked it midconversasion out of the ball and when the slipper guy came about she was fighting (mostly by encouraging mice) to get out and get that thing on her foot. Come on guys it's an escape. You telling me you wouldn't take it in that situation?

Rapunzel
She wasn't rescued from the tower. I mean come on Flynn took a frying pan to the face and it was her idea to use him as a guide to go exploring. On top of that her hair does a lot of ass saving for the both of them. For a princess in a tower story, she really does not do much passive sitting about. Just listen to the opening song people. Nowadays it would be, "I watched Netflix. Then more and more. I'm cool with staying here." (Maybe with more rhythm and tune.) Rapunzel kicks ass!

Tiana
I have only seen this movie once, so bear with me about how this one won't be as detailed. She is willing to work her butt of to build a successful restaurant on her own. And when she gets turned into a frog it's not just sitting there accepting it. Lots of things are tried so that she can have posable thumbs again.

Megara
Who doesn't love Megara? While I can barely watch Hercules without cringing (what did you do to mythology?), I still love Megara. She is one of the first leading love interests to not be innocent. She's the femme fatal who doesn't ask for help. She takes matters into her own hands and even refuses rescue when she first meets Herc.

Esmeralda
Another femme fatal type. She isn't one whatsoever to sit still and wait for anything. As soon as she has sanctuary, she starts looking for an escape (well after a song of course). She won't give in to Frollo even when strapped to a stake to burn. And let's not forget she was the only one willing to give Frollo the finger (oh she totally would have if it wasn't a kids show) and cut Quasimodo free.

There you have it. The princesses of yore, while definitely not maybe as badass as the ones in Frozen were not totally passive and useless. Give credit where credit is due and thank God all of us have the sense to not marry a man we've never met that kisses us when he thinks we're dead.

On Wanting To Be A Boy

Recently a friend of mine showed me one of those photos that gets passed around the internet about a six year old boy that lives as girl. She was curious to my opinion on the subject and told me the only issue she had was that of the fact he had dyed purple hair.

Now I have the utmost respect for anyone brave enough to live life as the opposite gender. That takes a lot of guts and you go girl/guy! On that note I don't see anything wrong with letting your six year old be whatever gender that they so wish to be. (I don't even care about the dyed hair.) I do however have an issue with the treatment some transgendered preteens are receiving.

Going through puberty for being the opposite gender as what you feel you are can suck balls! As much as puberty sucks for everyone, that sort of doubles the effect. So there is no wonder that there is a hormone treatment that helps prevent them from going through puberty. I can't get behind that. Now please refrain from shooting me, but what if it is a phase?

Now, hear me out. I as a kid really wanted to be a boy (See Homophobia). While when I was really little I told the whole damn world about it, by the time I hit about first or second grade I stopped telling anyone because of all the ridicule it resulted in. I wanted to be a boy and for the longest time thought I was one trapped in the wrong body (Thanks, big sis, for all the medical documentaries you watched). Until about fourth grade when I actually started having chick friends and could hang out as "one of the girls" (even though I didn't quite fit in), I never thought it was possible that I was actually a girl.

While puberty hit a year layer, I still didn't feel comfortable being a girl. (Or to quote ever mom ever, "Congratulations! You're a woman now!") When I got boobs I was pretty annoyed because damn it bras are uncomfortable. So I wouldn't wear bras and instead wore a hideous orange vest so I could get away without a bra. (Seriously look at any photo from fifth grade and I am wearing that ugly as all hell thing.) On top of that, when I got my period I was pissed. It of course happened before a girl scout camping trip and I kind of totally hated the fact that I would have to deal with this shit for like fifty years. That was five times my life span people! It was a curse! (When my mom told me congrats I actually wanted to punch her.)

It also didn't help that my parents never actually talked to me much about such things and we watched some damn weird videos in fifth grade health class about the subject that involved uterus pancakes. (I am not even slightly kidding.) If uterus pancakse didn't convince you that you didn't want your period, I don't know what would. While at first I was pissed and upset about things, after awhile I did figure it out that bras can be bearable and really a period isn't that bad if your a lucky bitch like me who rarely gets cramps. (Sorry, siblings, you can suck it!) By the end of fifth grade, I didn't really hate the idea of being a girl anymore, but still didn't feel entirely like one either.

In middle school I knew I was a girl and became pretty okay with that fact. It's sort of when I started to figure out that being a girl didn't mean fitting into a predetermined bubble. I never understood why it had to but, I did think that was the way it was and couldn't be changed.

Come the summer before eighth grade I cut off all my hair and actually learned what it was like to be seen as a boy. In fifth grade when I was trying to feel like a girl I would get pissed off at people for calling me a boy, bit eighth grade I didn't care. This may have more to do with the fact that in eighth grade it was an honest mistake, while in fifth it was more kids being little shits than anything else. It was kind of interesting to see how people reacted when they thought it was just guys hanging around and I found it really funny to see people freak out when they were corrected. Sometimes I'd even just let people think it.

Come high school, I was growing more comfortable in my skin. I remember being super excited when one of my guy friends said, "that is the first time I have ever actually thought of you as a girl." Junior year, I finally pulled my head out of the denial sand and realized that I was gay. Then senior year I actually grew comfortable with that fact (kind of had to thanks to the radio that was my friend's mouth). With all that going on I still never actually got comfortable with the fact that I was a female until I started college and moved out of my parents house.

I moved into my own apartment and lost all hopes of plausible deniability. Among learning that I am far lazier and far stranger than I previously thought, I learned that I was without a doubt a woman. With the chance to be entirely myself in my own home on my own terms, I learned that I was a sexy bitch that happened to be a gay woman and it's awesome! It may have taken me twenty years to be comfortable in my own skin, but I am and I will tell you right now that for me being a boy was just a phase.

All that being said, I know for some people it is not and by no means do I intend to demean that. That six year old kid may very well be a woman trapped in a man's body, but it is possible that it is just a phase as well. That's why I don't agree with the hormone treatment. Puberty sucks for everyone, more so for transgendered kids, but at the end of it you come out stronger for having gone through it. Puberty helped me figure out my place in the world amongst all the wanting to punch things and I am glad I dealt with it. Let the kids grow up, even support their decisions along the way, and by the time they hit adulthood they will have a better understanding of themselves. They may not know entirely who they are (because nobody does), but they will know more than they would otherwise.

Books: An Addiction

As I have no doubt mention I love books. I should since for most of my life my mother was a librarian. I love books such an ungodly amount it actually becomes a bit of a problem. My name is Sarah and I am a book addict.

All of you people are thinking how can someone be addicted to books and how can that be a bad thing? Well, I'm going to tell you.

I have an undeniable love of libraries. I spent a lot of my childhood in them and no one can deny that they are cool places. That being said they let you check out an ungodly amount of books at one time. I live a mile and a half from the nearest library and I always walk there. Everytime I go I say to myself, "I'm only going to check out one book I don't need a backpack." Then an hour later I have books stacked up to my chin as I walk home trying not to drop them while getting strange looks from all the kids that are just getting home from school. Remember the scene in Cinderella where the mouse is trying to take all the corn, that is pretty much me. I just don't have the cat trying to eat me.

I actually suffer from this delusion that I will read all these books before they are due in three weeks. So, I pick one up and start reading them. Before I know it, I have started every single one of these books and finished none. So then I get an email that the three weeks are up and do the inevitable, renew them online. Three weeks after that point, I have finished probably one book and have cast a aside a couple others because they actually weren't that interesting, but I still have a couple more that I need to read so, I go ahead and renew them online again.

This happens not because I'm a slow reader, but more or less because I get distracted really easy. It doesn't work to read ten books in nine weeks when there are so many things to do. I have school stuff, then there are the movies that people have suggested along with the shows, and one was really good, so I have to binge watch all nine seasons on Netflix, then before I know it nine weeks are up and I have to return the books to the library because I've "Exceeded my renewal limit". It gets absolutely ridiculous quickly and somehow I always tell myself I'll just check it out again later when I have more time. But then, I come home again with more books. It's a never ending cycle.

One top of that, bookstores are libraries only with books you keep. Used bookstores especially. $5 or 99¢ books and I will come home with all sorts of things. They are usually ones that I've read, love a shit ton, and would like to reread. Plus I'll be able to lend it to my friends so that they don't have an excuse like, "I can't find a copy" as to why they haven't read it and totally don't understand my giraffe reference (for the people who have read Un Lun Dun). It's a win win. That is until I catch them dog-earing a book. Then they may not just loose a finger, but will also receive a free lecture and banishment from ever borrowing books again. (Only one of my friends has ever had the balls to do this in front of me. She may or may not be convinced I'm psychotic.)

I also always ask for books for Christmas and birthdays. This Christmas alone pushed my bookcases to a level of needing another. When I first moved out I bought a book case and filled it über quickly, so I bought another. I now have two book cases and well they're starting to over flow. In no time I'm going to end up having an entire wall stacked with books to the ceiling like Chuck in Pushing Daisies. On top of that, I'm also always going to have a huge stack of library books next to my bed that I am currently, "reading." I have no doubt that one day my books will reach a dangerous level of stacking and my cat will trying to sit atop them sending them all tumbling over and resulting in my death. (I may be being a bit dramatic.) I shoud probably just get an eReader.