<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:29:52.100-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the unromantic</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-3541616259663708231</id><published>2011-04-09T00:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T00:42:29.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For shame, humanity!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.vancouversun.com/entertainment/movie-guide/Kristen+Stewart+turns+Saturday+Will+celebrate+Vancouver+Squamish/4585010/story.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9fc5e8;"&gt;Kristen Stewart turns 21 Saturday: Will she celebrate in Vancouver or Squamish?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that's a legitimate news article I found in Google News, under the Vancouver, BC section.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not gonna lie, I'm ashamed! When &amp;nbsp;things like the&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://theintelhub.com/2011/03/30/letters-claim-al-ciada-have-nuclear-bombs-hidden-across-united-states-al-qaeda-100-pentagon-run/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9fc5e8;"&gt;Al-Quada threat letters claiming to have 160 hidden nuclear bombs throughout the United States&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;(CBS no longer has this story on their website? But it is in other places - thank you, Internet, for freedom of thought!), or even the fact that that&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/canadian-soldier-killed-in-afghanistan/article1959236/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"&gt;t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9fc5e8;"&gt;he 155th Canadian soldier to die in&amp;nbsp;Afghanistan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;just died are not even mentioned. Not to mention that all the media is talking non-stop about the election, yet usually failing to actually say anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, it just drives me crazy! My Law class has a weekly current events day, and we discuss things like murder and child pornography cases - which are important too, don't get me wrong - but rarely world issues. When will people step up and EDUCATE themselves about the world we live in? Most of us don't care about much past what we're going to wear the next day and when our next date will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No wonder we are kept so much in the dark about what really goes on in international affairs. It isn't hard to keep people ignorant when they are so apathetic. I remember, the night that the news stories about Japan's tsunami started popping up, the top story on Google News was about something one of the Canuck hockey players did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember WikiLeaks? My friends and I were so excited about how it would change governments around the world, and honesty. Hah! Like so many things, it's been hushed down and no one really cares anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apathy will be the death of us! Tragic, when we live in a time when some overrated pop actor's birthday party is more interesting to the general public than where their tax money goes, or the death of our soldiers in Afghanistan, or even the possibility of our next door neighbour the US being under a serious terrorist threat. Now, I do not believe they really are - but still, shouldn't we bother to care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look forward to the day when I can read the news without having to sort through endless crap about the Canucks doing whatever stupid stuff they do, or silly celebrities coming to visit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-3541616259663708231?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/3541616259663708231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/04/for-shame-humanity.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3541616259663708231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3541616259663708231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/04/for-shame-humanity.html' title='For shame, humanity!'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-1557425713501888361</id><published>2011-03-15T22:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T22:18:25.692-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Communism - It's a Party!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span lang="en-US"&gt;I've&lt;/span&gt; been trying to find some time to post for a while now. It's not easy, with the whole wide internet available to distract me. (Erm, I wrote this BEFORE that last one... lots of ferry rides lately!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Fortunately, the fates saw my situation and were kind enough to put me in the perfect position; over an hour of sitting around, with my laptop, and no Wifi in sight. I do have all the lovely movies I downloaded, but, being the smart, resourceful gal I am, forgot my headphones. Oops.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;It's all good, though. One long ferry ride of writing to go!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I was standing in the lunch line the other day when I heard this quote: “Anyone under 20 who isn't a socialist has no heart. Anyone over 30 who isn't a capitalist, has no brain.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Well well! Just a little cynical. It originated, obviously, with one of the girl's wealthy father. “It makes sense,” she explained. “When you're young, you have no money, so you want things like health care and equality. When you're older, you have all the stuff and you don't want to share it.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;It does make sense. I don't like it, though – it says something rather terrible about human nature. Rather true, too – we're selfish little beings. I hope that if I ever become wealthy, I can get over my own greed and share my fortune around a little. My parents are fairly socialist, of course, but they've never been wealthy so the issue has never come up!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Wealth is a bit of a trap, I think. Funny, but there's no such thing as rich enough. The poor want to be middle class. The middle class want to be wealthy. The rich want to be richer. The richer want to be the richest.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Let's look at McDonald's. (This is a little inspired because I recently watched the McLibel video.) They're rich. Hugely rich. Hugely successful. However, to imagine buying better grade food to encourage healthy eating? Forget it! They'd lose profit! Buying meat that isn't a product of animal cruelty? Profit loss. Be more eco-friendly? Profit loss. Paying decent wages? Profit loss.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;However, when you're a massive, internationally successful company – how much does a little profit loss mean? A lot of money, but not a lot of damage to the company. The shareholders would still be able to live in luxury.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;But that's not how it works. We suffer. The generation of tomorrow suffers. The animals suffer. The environment suffers. All so some chumps in suits can drive Hummers and live in mansions.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;And no, it's not as simple as just not buying McDonald's food – they're everywhere, and when you send your cute little 6 year old to kindergarten and she sees all her friends eating this stuff, she's going to want to too. Nagging is a favorite in the marketing industry – why do you think they advertise to children so much? Most adults with money would much rather eat somewhere else (sushi, anyone? It's just as affordable!) but the spoiled kids of today don't make that easy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;(Yes, my generation is SO spoiled – raised on videogames and junk food and a ridiculously dumbed-down school system.)  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;This is what makes communism so attractive. You'd think there should be a level of “rich enough”. Two kids, a dog, an SUV and a townhome in a nice area?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I'm not a communist. Like the NDP, it's attractive but doesn't work.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I don't think capitalism really works either, though. It's all well and good if you're wealthy, but for the poor and the working middle class, it's not so great. If you want ultimate power in today's world, you don't need charisma or intelligence or even a good game plan. All it takes is a lot of money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;And it really has taken us over. People don't care about people anymore. Scraps of paper are worth more. Even the legal system is all about rewarding the rich. Oh sure, we have justice – for the wealthy. If you don't come with a bulging wallet, all you can do is hope for compassion.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Hopefully one day we'll get a new system. Someone will change things sooner or later. First, though, we need a socialist.... with some money. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-1557425713501888361?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/1557425713501888361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/03/communism-its-party.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/1557425713501888361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/1557425713501888361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/03/communism-its-party.html' title='Communism - It&apos;s a Party!'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-7214732101871216420</id><published>2011-03-12T21:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T21:39:58.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poison for your soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I love fucked up people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;At least, I love what society calls fucked up people. I don't have any mental disorders. I hope. I tend towards winter depression, but so do many people. However, many of my loved ones are a little mentally unconventional.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I've got a close friend who has anger issues. She has a tendency for depression and drama. I love her with all my heart and she's the most loyal friend I could ever ask for. About a year ago she started taking anti-depressants. The change, of course, was dramatic. She doesn't break stuff in fits of pique anymore, or scream and threaten people. (I've never known her to actually attack anyone.)  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;She's hardly ever angry anymore at all. Instead, she's mopey. Depressed. Gloomy. She doesn't care about much anymore, except dark rooms and bong tokes. She's apathetic to pretty much everything, and desperately lonely. A date gone wrong or a fight with her boyfriend will almost guarantee suicidal thoughts. She's as insecure as insecure gets, terrified of people's opinions and caked with makeup. A far cry from the wild, emotional girl she once was. I love her all the same but I miss her fire. Of course, it's her decision to make – I'll never know how it feels to go through that, and I cannot judge her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I have another close friend who is manic depressive. A couple, actually, but one in particular I'm going to talk about. She's excitable. Emotional. Dramatic. As loving as a person gets, but if you get on her wrong side all she has for you is fire and brimstone. She loves to love and loves to hate. Like most manic depressives, she's all extremes and emotions.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;She doesn't take anti-depressants. She can't, because of the liver damage they cause. Instead, she bounces through a world of emotions. She deals with her depression as sensibly as a person can, and never takes it out on those around her. Her manic moods are whirlwinds of excitement and affection – to be honest, I love them. She's one of the greatest friends I've ever had. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;“Anti-depressants?” she says. “Remember, honey, anti-depressants are for society's sake. They don't benefit the individual.”  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I have one friend who I think legitimately needs her prescribed anti-depressants. At least, they don't seem to be doing her any harm. She's a rape victim, a cutter, has made past suicide attempts. Like many depressed people, she's got several issues stacked up. I don't know what they all are, I'm not going to ask. Maybe there are things that she could do as an alternative, but I don't know enough to make those judgments.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;For the rest of my friends, though, I think they're a shortcut doctors like to use. They do get paid to put people on these medicines, you know. Is it really necessary to prescribe anti-depressants and schizophrenia medications to someone who gets really angry? She doesn't hear voices, and she never said a word about suicide until after she started taking her pills. If I had the power, I'd enroll her in boxing and get her a psychiatrist. I respect her decision to take the prescribed medicine, of course – she's told me many times how difficult it is for her to deal with her anger. I can only imagine. I do, however, think there are way better ways to help her!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Pills are everywhere. Sleeping issues? Have some drugs. Upset because your life isn't going well? Have some drugs. Got a cold? Have some drugs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Okay, it's great that we have medicine. But when has it gone too far?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;My best friend in the entire world is schizophrenic. I never learned this until recently. She took medications for a while, but stopped. Now she have a well paying job and a home of her own. No drugs, occasional drinking. Of course, she works way more than is probably healthy, but everyone needs a coping method. I think, if someone in that position can deal with their issues and overcome them without medication, it can't be as necessary as some people believe.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;I have nothing but respect for my friends who deal with their demons on their own. I think that we as a culture tend to consider mental issues a lot worse than they really are. No one is perfect – we all have our issues. Those with diagnosed ones shouldn't be hushed down and drugged up. What's the crime in being extra emotional? If anything, people with bipolar disorder or anger issues just act the way we all wish we could!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Society would like us all to be muted, well behaved and normal. There isn't a lot of room for extremists  or people who are overly different. This is not because we are  a bad society, but because that is how societies function – the individual must sacrifice for the good of the whole.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;It is the responsibility of the individual to take care of themselves. Don't fall into that neat little trap your well-meaning peers have made – its about what makes YOU happy, not the neighbours. Wreck your furniture, not yourself – better to break a chair than swallow those poisonous little white pills.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-7214732101871216420?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/7214732101871216420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/03/poison-for-your-soul.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/7214732101871216420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/7214732101871216420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/03/poison-for-your-soul.html' title='Poison for your soul'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-3521542440592321253</id><published>2011-03-09T13:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T13:38:23.118-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Usual</title><content type='html'>Life is never boring. I don't even know how people get bored! Seriously, there's always something to do. Something to say. Something to think. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in my new spare block. :3 I have half days now, so plenty of time to do what I feel like! Time to get things rolling, methinks. I'm starting on a creative writing course. Ahh, yes,&amp;nbsp; I did say methinks. Methinks my literature course is getting to my brain! I find myself wording things oddly during my classwork, too. That's okay, I don't mind the eloquence that comes from reading too much Shakespeare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason my social life always seems to bounce up after a breakup. I think it's because I feel like I have to compensate for all the extra time I have to myself. Not to mention how those little friendships with guys suddenly bloom! Says something about the guys, but that's okay; as long as they know about the boundaries in place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One friendship that did get squashed was the one with my ex-boyfriend, though. That's okay - I'm beginning to realize that, despite his good traits, I don't really enjoy the condescending way he treats me. I believe in each to their own; I think that people have the right to their own opinions, but not the right to press those opinions on others. Somehow I'm just no good at being friends with ex's. It seems my golden record goes on. Oh well! Such is life - there's only one direction to go, onwards and upwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's with heartbreak, anyways? I just don't get why people get so into these relationships. We're seventeen - chances are everyone is going to betray you. My friends always come with their sad faces and sob stories - "I trusted him!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't people learn?&amp;nbsp; You can't trust anyone! At least, you can't trust them to love you forever. Not at an age where no one knows that love even is. Don't set your heart on that first date - things come up. Don't fall so fast during the chase - it's a "chase" because someone has to run away. Whoever falls harder gets to do the chasing.&amp;nbsp; It's a horrible, painful, disgusting, manipulative process. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't trust people not to break your heart. A human heart is such an easy thing to break! You can't trust them to follow through on their word, to love you the way you love them, to put you in front of other things in your life. You can't trust them to treat you right or follow through on their promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's not because everyone is bad. Its because we're all just humans, and humans aren't dependable. Humans are flighty and stupid and emotional.&amp;nbsp; If you want true love, get a dog. And maybe, maybe as we grow up things get better. After all, lots of couples get married and stay together for years and years. But right now ? Right now we're young and hormonal. We don't know anything and assume we know everything. Every little crush feels like true love, and we probably wouldn't know true love if it roundhouse kicked us in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So chill out. Think twice. Make backup plans. Don't assume that that boy with that reputation is going to act any different for you than he did for the last girl. Don't assume the heartbreaker girl will leave yours intact. None of us are perfect, no matter how great we might seem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-3521542440592321253?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/3521542440592321253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/03/usual.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3521542440592321253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3521542440592321253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/03/usual.html' title='The Usual'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-2414449323879089991</id><published>2011-03-02T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-02T20:57:41.404-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There's nothing in it for you, 'cause I'm living it all for Leyna!</title><content type='html'>First of all, I've never loved a man like I love Billy Joel. For those of you who don't know who Billy Joel is... shame on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life sure has been interesting lately. I went to visit my father last weekend; he announced he's going to get married! Just a wee bit of a shock, since my dad has spent the majority of his life avoiding getting married. Anyways, my new stepmom is nice, and best of all, I get an adorable little 8 year old stepsister! We're all going to live together, which should be interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents are insanely stressed out. I have to say, my life is so interesting. I'm surrounded - absolutely surrounded by people with mental disorders. I love them all, though. I can't imagine life if they weren't the way they are, either. Even my best friend has anger issues, which have been squished into all sorts of other fun problems by her anti-depressants. Yuck. I fucking hate those things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm attracted to people with issues. Not so much romantically - I'm not romantically attracted to anyone, really. Well, Paul Rudd in Clueless, but he's over twenty years older now than when the movie was made, and not nearly as hot. But as friends? The crazier they are, the more I love them. Which, I will tell you, is just asking for stress!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately life is all about school. Holy. I do homework all the freaking time. Except for times like right now.. erm. Oh well. I guess this is just an update about my life, because I don't have anything specific to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been really interested in religion lately. Well, I ALWAYS have, but especially lately. Not in becoming religious - in religion, and how it fits into our culture. Mm. Nothing worse than ignorance!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha, the other day my friend and I had this big long debate over something I'd posted on facebook. He wrote a blogpost about it - you can look at it &lt;a href="http://katvolver.blogspot.com/2011/03/misogynistic.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; on his blog. Anyways, I'm an angry feminist with no sense of humor! But that's nothing new, feminists never have senses of humor. (I'm not really a feminist, I &amp;lt;3 men. I &amp;lt;3 having rights, too, though!) I guess I do take his comments too seriously, though, but then again, it's his responsibility to ease off when things get serious if he's just joking! Either way, I don't think that rape is ever deserved or a "lesson" - it's inhumane and rapists deserve loooong sentences - I think about ten years at the least. I'd say it's a bit more serious than stealing a car, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm going to go do something useful. Maybe I'll put a real post up one of these days, about religion vs atheism, or anti-depressants. Something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/fChN-6VDakA/0.jpg"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fChN-6VDakA&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fChN-6VDakA&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-2414449323879089991?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2414449323879089991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/03/theres-nothing-in-it-for-you-cause-im.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/2414449323879089991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/2414449323879089991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/03/theres-nothing-in-it-for-you-cause-im.html' title='There&apos;s nothing in it for you, &apos;cause I&apos;m living it all for Leyna!'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-7272859429414217523</id><published>2011-02-24T00:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T00:01:35.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>what's up with being bi(sex)ual</title><content type='html'>Today was Anti-bullying Day. Y'know, the one where people wear pink and are supposedly nice to eachother. (Didn't quite work that way, but lots of people wore pink!) Anyways, at some point this morning my friends started talking about homosexuality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a controversial issue. Most of my friends aren't homophobic, of course; for a lot of us, that's something belonging to past generations. Today, we've grown used to our gay friends being around - and tolerance levels makes everyone a little more open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, its amazing how many people are just a little bit gay. Every where you look, there's experimentation. We're all open to the idea that it could be fun to kiss the same sex. More girls, I think, than guys, because lesbians are often a male fantasy and primarily straight girls see their willingness to experiment as a bonus to their sexual allure. But even the rare guy will admit to that little dream, that make out session, that willingness to try something different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is everyone becoming less heterosexual? I think it's because we feel free to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bisexuality is nothing new. In ancient Greece, it was normal for men to have sex with their wives for procreation, and sex with other men for fun. After all, what is the harm? Sex with women lead to pregnancies - sex with men lead to nothing at all, except maybe an inability to sit for a while. Erm, bad joke. Excuse me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, casual bum-sex died out, I'm guessing, with paganism. I'll have to double-check my facts. Good thing this is a blog, and it's okay for me to put theories out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christianity has something against sex for pleasure. I'm not sure why, but naturally a religion that discourages casual sex (in fact, any sex outside of a lifelong bond) is going to discourage sexual activities that have no practical purpose! Well, except that sexual relations have been proven to improve relationship quality... but they didn't know about that back then, since most sex was a lot different than sex today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If gay sex was a fad, it was in big time but went out big time, and it looks like it's creeping back. That's cool with me - I can't wait until the house parties where it's a pair of drunken boys in the corner making out, rather than girls! Anyways, I might add on to this at a later date, but right now I'm super tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-7272859429414217523?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/7272859429414217523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/whats-up-with-being-bisexual.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/7272859429414217523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/7272859429414217523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/whats-up-with-being-bisexual.html' title='what&apos;s up with being bi(sex)ual'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-8619145363713471007</id><published>2011-02-22T21:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T21:26:49.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'>shoez on the brain</title><content type='html'>What's on my mind, while I should be writing deep, thought-provoking posts for you guys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A739Zu4uidA/TWSaPl6GoXI/AAAAAAAAAE8/Um_rg1KObI8/s1600/shoes-boots-jr-001blackpu_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A739Zu4uidA/TWSaPl6GoXI/AAAAAAAAAE8/Um_rg1KObI8/s640/shoes-boots-jr-001blackpu_2.jpg" width="425" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Scuse me while I go drool on my keyboard.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A739Zu4uidA/TWSaPl6GoXI/AAAAAAAAAE8/Um_rg1KObI8/s1600/shoes-boots-jr-001blackpu_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-8619145363713471007?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/8619145363713471007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/on-brain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/8619145363713471007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/8619145363713471007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/on-brain.html' title='shoez on the brain'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A739Zu4uidA/TWSaPl6GoXI/AAAAAAAAAE8/Um_rg1KObI8/s72-c/shoes-boots-jr-001blackpu_2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-4700646335243281074</id><published>2011-02-21T20:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T20:19:18.586-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Name of the Game</title><content type='html'>The "New Post" button is sometimes pretty scary. This blank page is so demanding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to very carefully not write about what's going on in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I like to sit in my own head and describe raw emotions. I was thinking about anger on the bus home today. Some days those kids get to me. It's very empowering. I feel my best, I think, when I'm angry. I'm no little girl; I'm a Queen of Ice. I have fire, I have power, and there are no restraints. What could be more beautiful? Anger is red, dark red, and it's not soft in the least. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like melancholy too. Not the same passion, of course, but it has it's own unique power. Maybe that's odd, but not much more odd than loving anger. Sadness is blue, and watery. Like blue watercolor paint after you've run out and all you have are the faded remains. There's a kind of calm that cannot be reached in any other way when one is sad, and it's enjoyable in it's own unique way when you use it as a tool for clear thoughts. I don't suggest thinking about whatever is making you feel that way, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course I love happiness. I would like to say it's my primary disposition; happiness is yellow, warm sunny yellow. There's nothing like the warmth of it! I would love to bask in it all day, but, like there are seasons in a year, there must be variation in feelings, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-4700646335243281074?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/4700646335243281074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/name-of-game.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/4700646335243281074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/4700646335243281074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/name-of-game.html' title='The Name of the Game'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-6760955912127213778</id><published>2011-02-19T00:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T00:10:46.993-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cuddling a knife won't make it any less sharp.</title><content type='html'>LOVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a topic that tends to attract people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got a boyfriend. Miracle of miracles, he's not an ex-boyfriend. One issue we have, though, is the fact that I'm not necessarily very affectionate. Which isn't to say I don't care - obviously I do, why else would I have a boyfriend? Maybe some girls see them like accessories to tote around, but I find cute handbags much less of a stress if all I want is something showy. But I view my relationship as a kind of friendship that goes to the next level. Maybe if it was an accessory I'd boast of it to the world in adooorable facebook statuses ("Going to sleep, school tomorrow! Love you babe") that incorporate affection into something unrelated, or want to cuddle in front of all of my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It comes up in debates and discussions about relationships. I'm not a romantic. I won't sacrifice my life in the name of true love, or anything dramatic like that. Romeo and Juliet makes me scoff, and Snow White always seemed like a jerk for ditching those dwarves for a prince she'd just met. I don't ever plan to be swept off my feet - I'd much rather have a nice calm, supporting partnership. Romance is important, of course, but not the center of my life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: see how it says "The Unromantic" in big white letters at the top of the page?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of all of this stuff about how I should shape my life around my relationship, etc, etc. I'm seventeen! I haven't even graduated highschool yet! Obviously I'm selfish, I'm trying to start the foundations for the rest of my life. Everything that is happening right now is temporary. EVERYTHING! In fact, in a few years I'll be in Quebec, with not one of the people I know today around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Romance is the LAST thing on my mind. I love my boyfriend. I like my relationship. But I do think we have more important things to worry about than happily-ever-after. Can't we just focus on the NOW, and whether we like eachother and suit eachother in this moment, than whether our actions are going to lead to lifelong marital bliss?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-6760955912127213778?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/6760955912127213778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/cuddling-knife-wont-make-it-any-less.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/6760955912127213778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/6760955912127213778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/cuddling-knife-wont-make-it-any-less.html' title='Cuddling a knife won&apos;t make it any less sharp.'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-7019566792319675230</id><published>2011-02-12T13:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T21:56:10.522-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tearing up in cute moments during cartoons.</title><content type='html'>That's the kind of mood I'm in, when my eyes get damper as Ash from Pokemon saves the day again. Isn't that terrible? But I feel really sentimental today. The strangest kind of mood. I'm holed up in my bedroom with carrots and Pokemon and some juice and chapstick. Strange combination. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning my boyfriend and I split up. It's neither heartbreak nor relief; just an acknowledgment of what had to be done, was done. I'll miss him. I already do, in fact. We clicked on a rarely achievable level. Time, insecurities and god knows what wore down our euphoria. Maybe we could have saved it, maybe not. I don't do well with relationships, though. All through, there's this burning desire to be out on my own. Maybe I don't want to date anyone else or even sleep with anyone right now, but just that freedom means so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silly reason, isn't it? Part of me wants to fix it and go back, but I made that mistake already. If we did get back together, it wouldn't be sudden like that. I do too much out of impulse, and I think that any decisions need to made with a lot of thought. It's cruel to play with someone's emotions on whim. I'm not going to do anything, but continue life as before. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be! And I do have a lot to work through before I date anyone. I knew that all along but chose to ignore it - mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm beating myself up a little. Can you tell? I hurt someone today, and I find that hard to live with. In fact, I've been hurting someone for several weeks. I think that's what really pushed me to end it, though, is the realization of how cruel my indecision has been. Better the breakup than to make him go through me pushing him away and pulling him back, all based on whimsy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is pretty personal for a blog post. I do feel it addresses an issue, though. I've always been one of those friends that, when any of my girls has a boyfriend who's been messing with her head, will jump on the DUMP HIS ASS train. It's strange to have been in a position where I was the one who was doing the dirty deeds. I certainly could have been kinder to my boyfriend. Not a fun realization, because I WASN'T kinder. Now I've been the abusive fuckhead. I suppose I'll have more empathy for them, now. (Though they still aren't allowed to date my friends!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope that we'll stay friends. Even if things are awkward for a while. I've never been with anyone who was so, well, decent about the breakup. I guess my taste in guys has improved. And it sure does show that I picked a winner. Hopefully I can keep hanging around that winner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-7019566792319675230?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/7019566792319675230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/tearing-up-in-cute-moments-during.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/7019566792319675230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/7019566792319675230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/02/tearing-up-in-cute-moments-during.html' title='Tearing up in cute moments during cartoons.'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-2890863504443459450</id><published>2011-01-31T03:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T03:45:23.355-08:00</updated><title type='text'>sometimes words trickle through my mind and, a willing slave to my subconscious, I line them up and write them down.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;I like to sit in a room made of my thoughts and ponder the questions that echo back and forth, that bounce off the walls of my brain&lt;/b&gt;. I drown myself in the dreamland in my head and choke on the heavy ideas that linger there.&amp;nbsp; I engulf myself with wonder and awe, tease myself with curiosity. I aspire, I desire, I hunt down knowledge like a starving wolf and revel in the both the chase and the satisfaction of a kill. And the more I know, the more I need; I crave it with a passion, yearn for that fire in my veins. There is no stopping, I am past the point of no return - this addiction is for life. I picture realities beyond our own, I will fix the world. A picture is worth a thousand words, but the painter of this portrait will never stop moving his brush. We live in a Never Ending Story but we can edit the plot as we go along. To control the past is to control the future; but we have no control of either. We are blind mice and no one knows which is a trap and where is the safe food. All we can do is guess and as we guess our way blindly we realize how little we truly know. There is a constant conflict inside my mind as I lust for untold stories, and yet must accept humbly that I can only ever understand such a small amount of that is happening around me. No one knows everything, except maybe the Gods, and even they are debatable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-2890863504443459450?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2890863504443459450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/sometimes-words-trickle-through-my-mind.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/2890863504443459450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/2890863504443459450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/sometimes-words-trickle-through-my-mind.html' title='sometimes words trickle through my mind and, a willing slave to my subconscious, I line them up and write them down.'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-394754768170412178</id><published>2011-01-26T21:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T22:01:43.995-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish my bedroom was in a basement so I could say I'm Planning World Domination in My Basement but it isn't so I can't say that and anways I'm not really planning world domination just thinking about LIFE N STUFF but I Feel Like A Rebel so This Sentence has no punk-tuation also I like how this title is longer than my blog post because it adds an element of random and I appreciate random</title><content type='html'>I want to do everything and anything but sometimes do nothing at all. &lt;br /&gt;I want to travel the world and build a home base.&lt;br /&gt;I want to eat inedible foods for breakfast, exotic meals for lunch, and cook delicious dinners at home.&lt;br /&gt;I want to live selfishly while helping others.&lt;br /&gt;I want to see the world and explore the inside of my head.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be respected by my cat and best friends with my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is exciting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-394754768170412178?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/394754768170412178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-want-to-be-respected-by-my-cat.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/394754768170412178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/394754768170412178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-want-to-be-respected-by-my-cat.html' title='I wish my bedroom was in a basement so I could say I&apos;m Planning World Domination in My Basement but it isn&apos;t so I can&apos;t say that and anways I&apos;m not really planning world domination just thinking about LIFE N STUFF but I Feel Like A Rebel so This Sentence has no punk-tuation also I like how this title is longer than my blog post because it adds an element of random and I appreciate random'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-4839445920619325889</id><published>2011-01-20T09:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T09:28:36.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift of Sharing</title><content type='html'>Priiivacy. It's not really something a lot of us take seriously - we have our facebook accounts, our friends. We like to gossip and have attention and all of that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a little ironic to write a public blog post about this, but my blog is just for that: my thoughts. I don't mind if my opinions on general subjects are broadcasted - in fact, I would like them to be. My private thoughts? Those are different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep a journal. A diary. Whatever you want to call it - a little book I write in daily about life, my thoughts and problems. See, there's always a dilemma. If I have a problem, the best way to deal with it is get it out in the open. However, I don't want to go around telling people! My best friend lives in White Rock and we rant together for hours, but what goes on in Powell River isn't really anything I can talk to her about. I have a boyfriend, but I don't want to rant to him about all the annoying little things, and I'm sure he doesn't want to hear them, either. I don't want to spread gossip - if I argue with someone, that's between me and them. No one else is involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically, I've got issues I need to talk about, but don't want to tell anyone. So I tell myself! And it works, too. I love my journal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You, the reader, on the internet - some anonymous person, perhaps one of my friends (probably one of my friends) don't need to know my personal life. You've probably noticed that I don't put much about it on here, except maybe the occasional reference to a situation that supports whatever I am talking about. I don't want the great wide web reading about MY life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people have difficulty understanding this, I think. For a lot of people, "privacy" is useless. They got a problem; they want sympathy, they want attention. Not everyone, of course. But some people - "Oh yeah, I'm going on anti-depressants soon." "Well, I think I may be pregnant." Or, the worst of all - "don't tell anyone, but I did this last night..." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't get it. How can people stand exposing themselves like that? I don't have a lot of secrets, but I'm not about to volunteer all of my darkest, most personal facts in the off chance that they'll make someone pay attention to me. Even if it would double the views on my blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, certain people know a lot about my life. Maybe about three. My best friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not totally sure where I'm going with this. Following the flow, I guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People are always surprised when I refuse to show them what's in my journal. To me, it makes perfect sense - why would I be writing it down, if I was just going to share it with them after?&amp;nbsp;Even if I were to write a book about my life, it wouldn't contain details like how I feel about blank and blank's newly forming relationship, or what I argued about with my boyfriend yesterday. That isn't anyone's business - and why would anyone even care? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think privacy is precious. It's hard to maintain, but rewarding - it's nice to have parts of your life that aren't common knowledge. Sharing is a gift, and not one that should be casually handed out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-4839445920619325889?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/4839445920619325889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/gift-of-sharing.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/4839445920619325889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/4839445920619325889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/gift-of-sharing.html' title='The Gift of Sharing'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-3608592074675223699</id><published>2011-01-19T11:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T11:16:27.841-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I get my highs in the piercing parlors.</title><content type='html'>I love body art. Tattoos and piercings, oh my! I love them, they're just fascinating. My boyfriend is going to start hating on this post from the first sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you do that to yourself, Rowan?" He hates them. It's unecessary, he says. Stupid and dangerous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't explain it to him, either. How can he ever understand it, when he finds them repulsive? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pain isn't important. It's all adrenaline. Sure, it hurts a little, but what does that matter? It's a pinch, over in a second. Hey, I had a big brother - physical pain isn't a big deal to me. A piercing is nothing after years of nougies and indian burns and oh god, those wretched years when he was in karate! To be honest, I kind of enjoy the process. There's this fear before: is it going to be painful? But then you overcome yourself, you force yourself into that chair and sit still while they pick out the needle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's what I really love about getting pierced. It's empowering, to face your own fear and beat it. You know it's going to hurt, you don't know how badly (it's never as bad as you expect). Forcing yourself to accept pain is a crazy adrenaline rush. Afterwards, you feel ready for anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boyfriend doesn't face pain the same way I do. He doesn't understand the exhilaration, and when he reads this post, he still won't understand. In fact, most of you won't, because adrenaline is an animal thing and not something you can understand from reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the second part of a piercing: what you leave with. You'd edited yourself - you're going to be a little different for the rest of your life. I have my nose pierced - my septum, actually. I have to hide it when I visit my grandmother, and in all honesty, I don't feel like I'm looking at my own face when I can't see it. Even after you take them out, that little scar is forever. It says "hey, I had an experience".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get my highs in the tattoo parlor. Why do you think piercings are so addictive? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, it can't be that simple. Every new piercing, there's always someone putting it down.&amp;nbsp;I get the same with my hair, with my clothes. I've learned to mostly ignore it, but it still bugs me a little. I don't see why people think it's their business what's sticking out of my face or what color my hair is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I certainly don't make other people's appearence my business. I'll ooh and ahh over a new hairdo, and maybe nag my boyfriend every now and then to grow out his hair (heeelllo, sexy ponytail?) but his reluctance doesn't really matter. We're all individuals; we should have the right to dress like individuals. If you don't like to dress up, that's just an extension of your personality - just like my flashy colors are an extension of my personality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all say it's so horrible that people follow trends and look "like clones" , but for some reason people never follow through. "Oh, Rowan! You're so great and unique... but you should grow your hair long and dye it a natural color." Despite all of the talk of "being yourself", no one feels comfortable letting lose.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mean that everyone has to dress like me. In fact, please don't. Please dress like yourself. If that means sneakers from Wal-mart that's cool, or $300 high tops, that's cool too. Learn not to judge - don't even judge the judgmental, because they're people too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And WHATEVER you do, think of this: people who worry about what other people do, generally don't have enough to do themselves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-3608592074675223699?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/3608592074675223699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-get-my-highs-in-piercing-parlors.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3608592074675223699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3608592074675223699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-get-my-highs-in-piercing-parlors.html' title='I get my highs in the piercing parlors.'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-4108295293319768608</id><published>2011-01-18T22:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T23:04:59.142-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Living in Sin</title><content type='html'>There are two ways to be socially acceptable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only do things that are acceptable to those surrounding you; or only surround yourself with people who think the things you do are acceptable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, I follow the second. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm the obnoxious sort that does pretty much what ever she wants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too imperfect to pretend that I am. I'm prideful, and insecure. I'm immature, and crude. I'm all those things your mother told you not to be. In fact, everyone is. We're all prideful, we're all insecure. We're all immature, and we all have a crude side. Some of us are better at pretending we aren't than others are. It's an art, the art of perfection; the art of pretending you aren't really human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In his book Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis tells us that pride is an ultimate sin, the one thing that no Christian would ever admit to. As much as I love C.S. Lewis, I think that's incredibly foolish. Pride is one of the basic things that we as humans live on. It's the greatest motivator we have. Of course, it can lead to a lot of bad things - overly large doses of pride have caused a lot of the biggest disasters the world has faced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, in moderate amounts, pride is good for us. We all take pride in some things, and that pride encourages us to take them somewhere. Pride in skills at math, pride in playing hockey. Pride in achievement. And then there's the kind of pride that encourages others to go places - pride in someone else's accomplishments will be beneficial to them, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I disagree with the idea of modesty - and by this, I mean false modesty. (In reality, there isn't much real modesty around. If you are confident in yourself and don't feel the need to share your accomplishments, that's great.) Maybe because I can't really grasp it. It doesn't make sense to me to pretend to be any less than&amp;nbsp; you are. I think that modesty is just a defense against jealousy - if you pretend you don't have anything to be jealous of, no one will be jealous of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psshaaw. If other people struggle with jealousy, that is their problem. Part of growing up is learning to appreciate other people's attributes without letting yourself feel lesser. I'm surrounded by people who are smarter than me, more talented, more creative, harder workers... and yes, some days I feel really insecure. However, if you don't feel good enough, the best solution is to IMPROVE YOURSELF! I'm jealous of my friends' talents, but rather then letting th at be a negative aspect to our relationship, I work on my own talents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we, as humans, focus too much on not being human. To be human is to have both good traits and bad traits. I'm not saying it's okay to let the bad ones take over your life; everything in moderation. However, it's not bad to be human! Be kind, but take time to be selfish. There's nothing wrong with taking care of yourself. Appreciate others' work, but take pride in your own. Be mature, but don't be afraid to let loose (and make that really bad sexual joke you've been thinking but are too afraid to say) every now and then. Be gentle but stand up for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one is flawless. We like to pretend we are, or at least have the potential to be - but we don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfection is being imperfect, and loving it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-4108295293319768608?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/4108295293319768608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/living-in-sin.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/4108295293319768608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/4108295293319768608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/living-in-sin.html' title='Living in Sin'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-3659387763856527814</id><published>2011-01-18T10:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T23:32:10.100-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happiness</title><content type='html'>I identify myself as a very happy person. Obviously, or you'd be reading a lot more of those "fmylife it suckz so bad" posts. And then you wouldn't read them at all... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, in Psychology today, we watched an interview with Eckhart Tolle, a spiritual teacher and author. His idea was that we "are not our minds", that "our minds are our worst enemies". "Your mind", he says, "takes over&amp;nbsp;the&amp;nbsp;real you and creates thoughts that make you miserable."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not totally sure I agree. I am, as you know if you read my last blog, a stone-hard athiest. I like to be open-minded, of course, but at the core of my beliefs I believe in what is biological. Our minds are a part of us. I think what Tolle is getting at is our subconscious and our conscious selves. Consciously thinking negative thoughts WILL affect your subconscious. If you think things that are negative consciously, you eventually subconsciously believe them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all about patterns. There are different ways of thinking. Something I think that leads to misery is social expectations. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's talk about social dynamics. We all know what high school is like - I'm using high school as an example because it's the situation I am most familiar with. I know that social dynamics continue into workplaces etc, or in some places entire towns. (cough, Powell River, cough.) Anyways, in high school. We have our popular kids, our stoners and our various kinds of social outcasts, and we have those boring kids in the middle that never quite make it into the popular group but are too NORMAL to be any kind of outcast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a theory about social dynamics. Let's start with our popular kids: they're all fucked up. That was not needless profanity. I'm generalizing, I know; there are exceptions. And some of them are just so rich that they manage to fit in - which is our "preppy" group. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But being "fucked up", having some kind of major issue in your life, your mind, your childhood - that's "cool". People respect you. Haven't you noticed that all of us "boring" kids - the nerds, the losers, the ones who just happen to not have anything interesting about them - we're the ones who grow up in middle class homes with loving, supportive parents and wholesome childhoods. Some of us drink and do minor drugs, some of us don't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's the social outcast kids. I think a lot of them catch on to the fact that "fucked up" is cool. Like the poser emo kids, the ones who are perfectly normal but will dress in dark clothes and write sad poetry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this is ALL theory. And there are a lot of exceptions. However, in a general sense, it's cool to have issues. The more&amp;nbsp;messed up your life is, the more they love you! If you cope with your issues in unhealthy ways, they'll love you even more! Happy people are never cool. Happy people can be "cute" and "nice" and all that, happy people can be loved but they're never truly cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, with all this pressure to be "cool" and miserable,&amp;nbsp;people fool&amp;nbsp;themselves into thinking our lives aren't that great. Ah! If only you were truly miserable, then all those other miserable people might accept you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't work like that. If your life is truly messed up, you aren't going to appreciate some well-dressed fuck in a middle class home who gets&amp;nbsp; an allowance every week droning on about how "miserable" their lives are! I'm not badly off, but I despise people like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to patterns. We get used to thinking and saying stuff sucks, because that's what is cool.&amp;nbsp; You say that your life is bad often enough, you start to believe it. No one can change your mind - and you carry that with you for years and years. Sometimes, for the rest of your life. Ever see those overweight, miserable, middle aged women? THAT COULD BE YOU. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's time to change thinking patterns. Be happy with what you got - whatever you got. Even if the kid next door is so much richer, your friend is so much prettier, and you can't get a girlfriend or boyfriend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the reason nothing good is happening to you is because you fail to see them coming your way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-3659387763856527814?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/3659387763856527814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/happiness.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3659387763856527814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3659387763856527814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/happiness.html' title='Happiness'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-3139835564482703493</id><published>2011-01-17T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T21:51:39.731-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ignorance is Bliss</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking about the afterlife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone has a different theory. Mine, of course, is purely atheistic; we die. (If only my English teacher could see that use of a semi-colon! Oooh la la!) And then we turn into compost in a graveyard, although I think I would like to be buried somewhere else so that I can contribute to the ecosystem... flowers can use me for nutrients and stuff. Y'know. I don't believe in the afterlife. I just don't - I mean, we'll never find out until we're there, but I have no need to comfort myself with the dream that I'm going to be reunited with loved ones and stuff. Death is both horrific and blissful - there will be nothing to fear, when there is nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about other people's theories?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched a movie the other day called Waking Life. It lead to a conversation with a friend about dimensions, quantum physics, and all that other fun stuff. Something that came up was a book called Is There Life After Death (a book I started reading but could not stand, thanks to all the physics in the first chapter, but my friend loved). Anyways, in this movie Waking Life, there was a scene where they discussed the last few minutes your brain is alive, after your body dies - during which you (hypothetically) see your life flash before your eyes. "Flash" is used loosely - the idea is, that during those last few minutes, the brain relives every second of your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It starts getting complicated now. The idea is, what happens after you finish mentally reliving your life? Do you include in the process, those last few minutes of brain activity? If so, you could have a "dream inside a dream", where you are mentally reliving the life you just mentally relived, if that makes sense. If you agree with the theory that we all "live in our own dimension" - as in, each of us views the world from a separate dimension, which sounds sketchy but think about it - how do you know that everything that has happened in your life, isn't just a figment of your imagination?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep stuff. The kind of stuff it hurts to think about. Am I writing this - or have you, the reader, dreamed up both this blog post AND me, the writer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That got a little off topic. Despite my boring, unromantic atheist views, I do enjoy pondering the ideas of separate dimensions, worlds just inside our heads - quantum physics and string theory. All that exciting stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part, though? None of us know what the answer is - and none of us will know until we're dead, and it's too late to pass the information on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-3139835564482703493?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/3139835564482703493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/ignorance-is-bliss.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3139835564482703493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/3139835564482703493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/ignorance-is-bliss.html' title='Ignorance is Bliss'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-1517000227805115727</id><published>2011-01-16T02:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T02:06:43.995-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday Night Doodle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AemeDXoNmSk/TTLCzpmztoI/AAAAAAAAADw/AjPbA8D27XQ/s1600/P2070008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AemeDXoNmSk/TTLCzpmztoI/AAAAAAAAADw/AjPbA8D27XQ/s320/P2070008.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;That's my saturday night doodle, which makes little to no sense and has a slightly retarded sun... but is up for interpretation. Oh well! I really like drawing cartoon flowers. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-1517000227805115727?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/1517000227805115727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/thats-my-saturday-night-doodle-which.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/1517000227805115727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/1517000227805115727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/thats-my-saturday-night-doodle-which.html' title='Saturday Night Doodle'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AemeDXoNmSk/TTLCzpmztoI/AAAAAAAAADw/AjPbA8D27XQ/s72-c/P2070008.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-638324326347994500</id><published>2011-01-06T16:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T16:59:16.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A non-existent problem, to fill up some cold winter days.</title><content type='html'>So... the winter depression hits. I hate cold. I can't stand it; I'm one of those people who are perfectly comfortable on a blazing hot day, but come late Novemer I don't leave the house without at least two pairs of pants. I tend to be a little seasonal in that miserable weather makes me, well, miserable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning started like most winter mornings, which is to say I got up and hated the world. That sounds a little harsh. I woke up and hated the fact that the world is COLD! I'm a morning person but not when even taking off the blankets is painful. And then the bus ride to school - too cold to be social, so I wrap up and try to sleep. I find that warmth has a loooot to do with my mood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was okay. I persuaded my lovely boyfriend (who lives conveniently close to the school) that it would be a good day to hang out at his place (where I could bundle up in blankets, huddle for warmth, and fall asleep!) Today I'm not so lucky. He's off getting his N and even if he was here, we would attend class anyways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyways... my point. I'm generally a pretty happy, but this cold gets me so down. Generally, I deal with my seasonal moodiness pretty well. I'm not fond of sharing my problems (except on this blog, which everyone in the world can read?) and I can usually take care of myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then... I got a boyfriend. I think boyfriends are like hack codes for when you're sad. Instead of the hours of consuming chocolate, candy, fantasy books, starchy foods and World of Warcraft while I hide from society... I told him I felt down because of the cold, and he cheered me up. Seriously, it took less than five minutes. I felt kind of like I was cheating the system. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's my question for today, kids. IS it cheating? I didn't have to think about my emotions or have my cry or really any of the usual process. Does accepting this kind of comfort going to cause me to have a dependence on it? Or should I only really worry about that if he starts solving ALL my problems for me - I mean, there isn't really any way to deal with seasonal depression, except maybe a trip to Hawaii. So I'm probably just worrying about a non-existent issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I quite like having a nice cuddly boyfriend to cheer me up. I think what worries me is the loss of independence. I like being able to take care of myself. I think the hard part, in any kind of relationship, friends or lovers or even family - the hard part is finding the line between too much dependence and too much independence. Having a social life is incredibly important, even if its just one or two friends and family members you see. No one can take on the world all by themselves. The other end of the spectrum is making someone your everything - not being able to do anything without them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt kind of silly today because I was down and wanted to have my instant-pick-me-upper around, but on the other hand, I would have been down if I hadn't been missing him, anyways. Probably, I'm thinking, I don't have to worry about having too much dependence as much as I have to worry about not being able to give up independence. Here's to learning how to open up - and finding that fine line between not enough and too much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-638324326347994500?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/638324326347994500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/non-existent-problem-to-fill-up-some.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/638324326347994500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/638324326347994500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/non-existent-problem-to-fill-up-some.html' title='A non-existent problem, to fill up some cold winter days.'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-1514099872803313648</id><published>2011-01-04T10:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T10:37:55.917-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sup doods, it's next year!</title><content type='html'>Well, people have been telling me to write. I've been trying to ignore them, since I'm lazy n all that, but they just keep persisting. The last straw was &lt;a href="http://bugworlds.blogspot.com/"&gt;Bugworlds&lt;/a&gt;, aka Alex, who informed me that I haven't updated in foreeeevvvveeer. Since I have nothing better to do, I guess its about time to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I seem to have a double life. Sounds exciting, doesn't it? I like to think it is. I spent my winter break not posting on my blog, and being a wild child in my old home of Surrey, far far away from my Powell River life. I did all sorts of fun things, some of which were pretty irresponsible. A bit of a far cry from my sedate, philosophy and book-filled existance up here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems I have a lot of secrets. I'm not quite sure what I think of that, because I liked to think of myself as being secret-free. No longer! I've got all these important people in my life, and they're all radically different. Most of them hate eachother, which definitely keeps things interesting. If you put all my favorite people in a room together, it would probably explode. And then I'm in the middle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm wondering about is next year. Which kind of ties into the fact that it IS next year - happy new year, guys. But I mean next year as in after I graduate. Suddenly, my lives are going to combine and there WILL be fireworks. I can't even imagine introducing my Powell friends and my Surrey friends to eachother, because everything is so different. I'm half nerdy (and proud, yo!) and half wild child. I guess this next year is going to be all about finding myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked about New Years resolutions in my Psycology class today. I don't have any, except to finish this next year on top. I think I would like to grow up a little. Have my own place - that's the biggest worry right now. Finding work, getting money. Figuring out who I'm going to live with - the best friend or the boyfriend? Both have proposed plans for future living arrangements, and I'd love to be with them both but who knows? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this next year is more full of questions than anything. That's cool, of course - questions lead to answers, right? There's a lot of potential. I think that we're all worried about what's going to happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A conversation with a friend led to this idea&amp;nbsp;- graduation feels a lot like the first day of kindergarten. We don't really know what's coming. Of course, friends and family have tried to prepare us, but you can't really understand something until you experience it. It's exciting and terrifying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-1514099872803313648?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/1514099872803313648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/sup-doods-its-next-year.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/1514099872803313648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/1514099872803313648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2011/01/sup-doods-its-next-year.html' title='Sup doods, it&apos;s next year!'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-4809855370859625963</id><published>2010-12-05T01:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T01:32:14.489-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"A healthy relationship means being able to walk out of it at any point. If you can't live without someone, you have a problem."</title><content type='html'>That title is a quote from an incredible woman - my mother, Myst DeVana. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't mean you shouldn't care about the person you're in the relationship with. It might hurt to walk away, but you have to have that ability. You have to have faith, that you'll be able to carry on without them, that you can depend on yourself. For example, my current boyfriend - no, I wouldn't want to end that relationship. It's wonderful. But, if I had to, I would. And I would survive the process, because I am strong in myself and I know that I could go on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the worst way to begin any relationship is to need it. Love does not come to the needy. Love comes to those who have found love in themselves, and are ready to share it with others. If there is anything I believe, it's this: you cannot love anyone else if you don't love yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am, in one of the greatest relationships I've ever had. It's completely different than what I'm used to; it's romantic, my decisions are respected, I have freedom, there is not only mutual respect but we click on an intellectual level. It's a far cry from the shallow, sex-based relationships of my peers. I actually know who it is I'm kissing - not only his name, but his personality, his interests, his opinions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what's different, this time around? None of the other romantic relationships I've been in were like this. The difference was that I wasn't looking for just any relationship. I was content with my single lifestyle, but just happened to stumble into a person I clicked with really well. There wasn't any rush, there was no desperation. We were both happy to be friends, and pleasantly surprised when things went to the next level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny, how the best things come when you aren't looking for them. A watched pot never boils, and relationships are harder to find when you're really looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My advice, to all you ladies and gentlemen who desperately want to meet that perfect match?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forget it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spend some time pampering yourself. Hang out with your friends. Get new hobbies. Learn to love yourself. Soon enough, someone will come along - someone better than you ever dreamed of. Someone who will love your individuality, who will want to hold your hand every second of every day and kiss you in front of their friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is more sexy then self-confidence. If you believe you're hot, then dayum, you're smokin'. If you believe you're a catch, then someone is going to be convinced. If you believe you can do anything, well, there isn't much you can't do. Life is only as good as you think it is. There are people in terrible situations who wake up every morning with a smile on their face, and people who cry themselves to sleep in luxurious beds in mansions, surrounded by people who care about them. It's all a matter of a perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about that really ugly girl you know who always has a boyfriend. You know one - everyone knows one. How do they do it? Obviously, they believe in themselves. They believe in their ability to catch whatever boy they chose - and it happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's arrogant, to believe you can do whatever you want, have whoever you want. My opinion? Oh-fucking-well. I am arrogant. I am arrogant and I have a huge ego. And I do whatever I want, I get whatever I want, whoever I want. I still have to work for it, of course, but the end result is that my life is pretty much perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't mind all this bragging. I mean it as encouragement - here's my secret to success, please become successful. The only thing better than being happy is sharing happiness with others.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-4809855370859625963?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/4809855370859625963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/12/healthy-relationship-means-being-able.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/4809855370859625963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/4809855370859625963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/12/healthy-relationship-means-being-able.html' title='&quot;A healthy relationship means being able to walk out of it at any point. If you can&apos;t live without someone, you have a problem.&quot;'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-9176495548898309349</id><published>2010-12-02T16:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T21:07:26.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fantasy of Control</title><content type='html'>Defying the system seems to be on my mind lately. Defiance requires a free will, so that's what today's post is about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is free will?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"[Free will is] the power of making free choices unconstrained by external agencies." That's what Google tells me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, do we have free will? The Bible says yes. Most people agree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;We do not. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The idea of doing whatever we want is incomprehensible. It's unthinkable. From the very beginning, we form societies, systems. Systems with rules. Morals. Ideals. We promote ideas like the "right" thing to do, tie ourselves to ideas for the "good of society". Willingly, eagerly, we give up our individuality, our right to be different, our free will - for the good of the common people. In the name of what is right. Decency. Propriety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you imagine walking down the street naked on a warm summer day? There's nothing wrong with the notion, but we shudder away from it. It's not immoral, or hurtful; in fact, it would probably be enjoyable. However, we have given up our ability to do this, because some person at some point in the past decided it was wrong. It was made to be part of the system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Free will" does not exist. It's impossible; we naturally create rules around ourselves. We tether ourselves to things like good manners, reliability - even if no one else tells us to, we wrap the chains around ourselves and lock them shut with our own hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Free will is a fantasy we trick ourselves into believing, in the hopes that we will not catch on to the farce that our systems really are. Fortunately, we never truly will - as I finish writing this post, I'm not going to run around naked. I'm not going to talk back to my mother. I'm not going to do anything wild or extreme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AemeDXoNmSk/TPhBOch5P-I/AAAAAAAAADk/5TxIkC71qQA/s1600/nudist-colony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; However, with the knowledge of freedom at my disposal,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;well, who knows what the future will bring? Every rule you've ever believed in is entirely self-imposed - and therefore non-existent. I would not suggest committing murder, because some rules are made for reasons, after all - but next summer when it's hot and your t-shirt is getting sweaty, remember this post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-9176495548898309349?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/9176495548898309349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/12/defying-system-seems-to-be-on-my-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/9176495548898309349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/9176495548898309349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/12/defying-system-seems-to-be-on-my-mind.html' title='Fantasy of Control'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-1591475022656459923</id><published>2010-12-02T00:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T00:02:26.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Politely  Reject  Your System</title><content type='html'>This is a Friendly Revolution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Aunt Rowan wants YOU! to help. Here's an idea; write a polite paragraph about what it is about the system you dislike, print it out, and put it up around the school. Would it catch on? I have no idea. I think it would be cool to try, though. A quiet rebellion, because no one listens to words that are shouted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I resent your rules and your constrictions. I feel I am adult enough to be responsible for my own actions. I do not want to bring a note home to be signed, like I am some child; if I miss a class, I do it out of my own free will, for my own reasons. I accept responsibility for my own education; to take advantage of the benefits provided towards my education, or to not do so. I want the right to miss a class when I need to miss a class. I want the right to suffer the consequences of my choices. I politely reject your system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I disagree with your social classifications and your stereotypes. I want to be free to be friends with whoever I want, no matter how they dress or act. I want to be accepted for who I am, not my hobbies or my clothing choices. I don't care if you play video games in your basement all day, or if you party every night. Maybe you do both. It doesn't matter. The only people I want to exclude are the ones who are exclusive. The only ones I'll judge are the ones who are judgmental. I politely reject your system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to believe in your workaholic ideals. I will not waste my time working towards future happiness, when I can be happy now; I will not waste my childhood. I will not stress myself over grades - I will not work myself to death, so I can get into school and work some more. I will not buy into this cycle of endless misery. I will enjoy every second of my life, and I will not do anything I am not passionate about. I will not take classes I hate so I can get into some fancy school. I will work as hard as any, but only in was that make me happy.&amp;nbsp; I politely reject your system. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways... maybe I'll forget about it in a few hours when I have to wake up for school. Maybe you'll see these written around the school. Who knows?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-1591475022656459923?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/1591475022656459923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-politely-reject-your-system.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/1591475022656459923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/1591475022656459923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-politely-reject-your-system.html' title='I Politely  Reject  Your System'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-24673532656002942</id><published>2010-11-30T11:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T11:17:45.900-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the most important lessons I learn are the ones I stumble across while skipping class</title><content type='html'>There's one particular quality that makes things happen, makes "the world go around." It's necessary in any kind of interaction. What is it? Not love, I'm afraid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Respect. Nothing is as soothing to the soul as a healthy dose of respect. It doesn't matter what form it comes in, or who it comes from. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since respect is so incredibly crucial to our self-esteem and happiness, there's not much worse than failing to receive it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And THAT is my issue with the education system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind showing up to class. I don't mind doing tedious essays or ridiculous activities for my online class (come on, do I really need to fill out an online dating application? I have no reason to online date.. and even if I did, I'm part of a tech-savvy generation. I know better than to put my address on a dating form.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I do mind is the way none of my teachers consider me responsible for my own actions. So what, I missed your class three times last week? My loss - not your problem. I'm the one who decided not to go, so why do I need a note from my&amp;nbsp; mother?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's disrespectful. It's condescending. I am not a child. I may not be the most mature person in the world, but I am mature enough to make my own decisions about what I do with my time. Generally, I choose that I want to go to my classes and learn stuff. Sometimes, I choose not to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Math and science and English are important, but there is no real reason to keep us in class for six hours a day, five days a week, ten months a year, for twelve years. There's only so much you can teach a group of bored, rebellious kids during those six hours, and pretty much everything after the fourth hour doesn't even process, no matter how hard we try. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my opinion? School is just a snazzy kind of daycare. Don't know what to do with your child? Ship 'em off to sit in a desk for six hours - convieniently out of the way, and there's even a chance of them learning a thing or two. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, well, if I was a parent, that would make sense to me. I wouldn't want my child to sit at home when they could be learning social skills and basic math. On the other hand, there's also a time when they won't need their daycare center any more. An age where they have made their goals and want to follow them; an age where they become responsible for the decision to suceed or not to suceed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think as we get into these last few years, Grade 12 and even Grade 11, we've reached that point. If we learn, it's because we want to learn - and if we don't want to, we'll probably just stare out the window all day or talk to our friends. And there are kids like me, who have no real interest in classes. Some days we do, but mostly we just want to GET IT OVER WITH. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why do I have to bring a note if I skip class one Monday? I didn't want to learn anyways, and all I would do would be to distract other people in the classroom. I've made a decision about my goals, and I know it's my responsibility, if I suceed or if I fail. At this point, the system is no long beneficial, just a tether. I'm resentful of the way I am being treated, of the lack of responsibilities given to me by my teachers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a child, so why am I still being treated like one? I am learning to take responsibility and be an adult - so is it not destructive to my progress to deny me the ability to be an adult? My mother does not care if I miss a class, so why does the school have to call her up, interrupt her day, so she can lie and say she knew about my activities on Monday? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is this in any way preparing me for the future? No matter how good my grades are, college won't do anything if I'm&amp;nbsp; not able to be responsible for going to class. I am not going to be coddled by condescending teachers and worried parents in the real world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to buy into this system. I refuse to believe life is about academics. I will be successful at my own rate, in my own time, by my own rules. And I will be entirely responsible for my success.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-24673532656002942?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/24673532656002942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/most-important-lessons-i-learn-are-ones.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/24673532656002942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/24673532656002942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/most-important-lessons-i-learn-are-ones.html' title='the most important lessons I learn are the ones I stumble across while skipping class'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-7754764726959673977</id><published>2010-11-30T01:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T01:24:33.914-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mourning A Love Lost</title><content type='html'>I'm a pretty happy kid. I have an amazing family, the greatest big brother that a girl could ask for. Pretty much the only worry I really have right now is heartbreak - I've been deserted by one of my closest friends, Sleep. I suppose our chances weren't that great; half my family are insomniacs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I was hoping to be an exception - especially since my beloved insomniacs are also both manic depressives. And both have less than wonderful pasts. My childhood has more or less been sunshine and rainbows, and I'm pretty much always really happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why doesn't sleep want to hang out with me any more? I have no idea. I'm not prone to anxiety or stress. My life is extremely happy and pretty much carefree. I've been a morning person for most of my life; in fact, just a year ago 9pm was my preferred, self-imposed bedtime. Now it's 1:07 in the morning and I don't even feel tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and did I mention that I wake up at 6:30 every morning? I do believe I will be napping in class tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother suggested sleeping pills. I'm pretty tempted, but they go against one of my most fervent beliefs; my disgust at how over-prescribed our society is. Growing up with people who suffer from depression symptoms (and having several very close friends with mental/emotional disorders), I've had a front row seat on viewing the effects of many of the "anti-depression" type drugs. My verdict? They're bullshit, useless, toxic, destructive. A solution prescribed by a society that cares more about making money than solving the problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll write a post about my hatred for anti-depressants another day. Back to sleeping pills and that dilemma. I think, even more so than my bias against prescription pills, my difficulty with the idea of getting sleeping pills is that it requires admitting I have a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know I just admitted all over the internet by writing this blog post, but that doesn't mean anything. A kid who can't sleep? No big deal. A kid with a prescription for drugs to help her sleep? That's different. Uniqueness for the win, but this is one scenario where I do not want to be different. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incidentally, smoking weed as a sleeping aid is just as bad. Healthier, probably, but still a dependence on an outside source for what should be a basic ability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, why do people even have sleeping disorders? Sleep is required to live. A condition where sleep is inaccessible is self-destructive. Same goes for eating disorders. We need food to survive, so why are girls teaching themselves to go for days without a bite? What a weird world we live in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm going to go stare at the ceiling for another hour or so. Goodnight, strange world!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-7754764726959673977?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/7754764726959673977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/mourning-love-lost.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/7754764726959673977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/7754764726959673977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/mourning-love-lost.html' title='Mourning A Love Lost'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-2615959868600055785</id><published>2010-11-27T22:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T22:51:50.677-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a regular liar.</title><content type='html'>What's your definition of love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother (an endless source of wisdom) once told me that it's not possible to fall out of love. And I believe her - when I think about the people I truly love, my brother, my parents - I know that no matter what they do, I'll always love them. No matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about romantic love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It scares the shit out of me, that's what. I never know when those three words should come. Looking back on my past relationships, I've realized that I'm a huge liar. I didn't love any of those boys. Looking forward, I'm suddenly panicking; how am I supposed to know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realistically, true love takes a long time to develop. It relies heavily on things like mutual respect and trust. No matter how amazing they are, how you feel about them - how can you love someone you've only known for a few weeks? A few months? Sometimes it can take years to really figure out who a person is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need a transition word. Not "like", because that doesn't express much more than a general approval of a person. There are people in my life who I far more than like, but I don't know if I'm ready to say I love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even some of my very best friends - what does that "love" mean? I tend to use it as a term meaning I care about them a lot. That's not too intimidating. I do, in a certain sense, love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So does that mean there are different levels of love? From the love I feel for my friends, to the love I feel for my brother? Maybe a scale of 1 to 10, with the girl who I care about a lot but is sometimes a dissapointment as a level 1 love, and my bro as level 10?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh baby, I love you on a scale of 4 out of 10." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm... I don't see that going too well. So what am I supposed to say? I can't morally lie and tell someone I love them when I don't even really know what it means to romantically love someone. I'm not some stupid little kid who expects every new boy to be the one and only. One and only will come along, but I'm not going to know who he is on the first impression. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;English language, you suck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-2615959868600055785?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2615959868600055785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-am-regular-liar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/2615959868600055785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/2615959868600055785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-am-regular-liar.html' title='I am a regular liar.'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-2320194861669347220</id><published>2010-11-25T23:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T23:13:58.375-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I believe in us.</title><content type='html'>I believe that most of what we accept are facts are actually opinions.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that beauty is an unattainable concept.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that diamonds are not forever, but true love is.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that we are constantly being brainwashed, yet are too lazy and apathetic to resist.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that the only lowest people are the ones who look down on others.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that the world is perfect, but humanity is not. &lt;br /&gt;I believe that we have the power to do anything.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that you should only treat your girl like a princess if she treats you like a prince.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that everything happens because of a reason, but not for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that happiness is a conscious choice.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that religion is beautiful but the people who control it are not.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that you must love yourself before you can love others. &lt;br /&gt;I believe that there is something wrong if the past was better than the present.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that your vote counts.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that the world is beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that ego is healthy, arrogance is not.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that there is never only one answer.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that we can fix the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I believe that the most powerful talent is the ability to provoke thought. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-2320194861669347220?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/2320194861669347220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-believe-in-us.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/2320194861669347220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/2320194861669347220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-believe-in-us.html' title='I believe in us.'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-6031443346708976584</id><published>2010-11-20T18:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-20T18:11:40.272-08:00</updated><title type='text'>when i was younger my mother taught me that the only way to remove a weed was to dig up its roots</title><content type='html'>DEMOCRACY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; is the right to choose between two different sets of liars&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; with two different sets of lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;is the right to have any leader we want, of of a &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; carefully selected list. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;is the right to be free&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; as long as we follow the system.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;is the right to elect a man into power&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;whom we will inevitably hate anyways.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;is the right to color in whichever box we choose,&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;but not to color outside of the box.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-6031443346708976584?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/6031443346708976584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/when-i-was-younger-my-mother-taught-me.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/6031443346708976584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/6031443346708976584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/when-i-was-younger-my-mother-taught-me.html' title='when i was younger my mother taught me that the only way to remove a weed was to dig up its roots'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-8346512411109622489</id><published>2010-11-08T00:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T23:20:26.965-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Sucks, Smoke Weed</title><content type='html'>Life is the coolest thing there ever was. Why don't people understand that? Now, I know there isn't a lot of tragedy in my life - one or two personal things I'm not going to tell the internet about, but nothing like abusive or dead parents or anything horrible like that. I don't count bullshit like being broken up with as tragedy, either. Whateeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeer. Get over it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, why do people bother being sad? I mean, ever minute you waste being sad, is one less minute of your life you were happy. Imagine if you could go back and count the amount of time you've spent being happy or sad. It could be YEARS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if every second counts, why would you possibly want to waste it being upset because your mommy won't let you out on a Wednesday night? Because your daddy won't let you date? Your best friend had to ditch because of their hockey practice? All these stupid little things you're wasting your time on! When you look back at the end of your life, will you really care that Mom made you miss whatever event was Wednesday? You probably won't even remember it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So life is not perfect. Life probably never will be perfect! Life is only what you make of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is goddamn happy, no matter what. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UPDATE: Lawl at all the people who saw the title and immediately agreed with it, not reading the post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-8346512411109622489?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/8346512411109622489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-sucks-smoke-weed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/8346512411109622489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/8346512411109622489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-sucks-smoke-weed.html' title='Life Sucks, Smoke Weed'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-6645137932739595743</id><published>2010-11-05T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T21:56:37.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FUCK PRETTY</title><content type='html'>Things that make me redonkulously happy: this &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/M6wJl37N9C0?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/M6wJl37N9C0?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katie Makkai comes down hard on the concept of "pretty". I love this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does&amp;nbsp; pretty mean, anyways? That's my question to you. Everyone seems to have a different opinion - and, to quote a good friend of mine - "there is no greater opinion". That means, kids, that NO ONE'S opinion is more powerful than anyone else's. If your momma thinks you're beautiful, who's to say that the hot, uninterested guy from the football team has a more important opinion? Maybe he just likes a different kind of girl. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And who decided it was so important, anyways? Ask any really pretty girl, and she'll tell you she's sick and tired of all the people who only are interested in her because of her appearance. Bleck! What kind of gift is that? Better to know you're being appreciated for your personality, your style - yourself! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of that, physical appearance is surprisingly flexible. Go look at your student picture from Grade 9. You look a lot different, eh? Nothing is stopping you from continuing that process. If you dislike something, change it. The only thing to remember is to STAY FLEXIBLE - what you want now, might not be what you want in twenty years. Don't lose your nose forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, I'm going to keep getting ridiculous haircuts and wearing crazy pants, because &lt;b&gt;pretty is overrated&lt;/b&gt;. I don't have time to worry about making myself look good to other people, when I already like how I look to myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-6645137932739595743?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/6645137932739595743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/things-that-make-me-redonkulously-happy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/6645137932739595743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/6645137932739595743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/things-that-make-me-redonkulously-happy.html' title='FUCK PRETTY'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-722977424200230860</id><published>2010-11-05T00:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T21:55:16.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day in the Life of a Teenage Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I weigh 126.4 pounds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;However, as the days of skipped gym sessions add up, I can't help but feel more and more uncomfortable. I was sitting in the bathtub comparing my legs to Barbie's when the idea for this post came up. (I've loved to do that all my life - no matter what, my legs have never let me down.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Now, I like to think of myself as a pretty secure person. I generally don't care too much about being super attractive, since I don't really date anyways. So... if I'm this worried about my weight, what is it like for all the other girls out there?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Well, finally I've gotten around to my point. &lt;b&gt;We are so obsessed with perfection. Do boys really like rock-hard abs and protruding ribs?&lt;/b&gt; I doubt it. Your love handles, the muffin top - its no big deal. Did you know, that in older times, being chubby was considered extremely attractive? It was a sign of healthiness.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;And THAT is what makes the difference, really. Are you a healthy, happy person? That's more attractive than any makeup or hairdo or visible ribs. What guy is going to want to deal with an anorexic girlfriend? (In my experience, they just try to feed you up!)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Time to stop obsessing over whether your bones are visible or not, and start thinking about how to really be beautiful - because the TRULY beautiful people are the ones who are happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;If you are not able to be happy with yourself, just the way you are, the way you were made - how can you possibly expect anyone else to be?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;You're sexy. ;)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Unlike this chick.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AemeDXoNmSk/TNOnfFtCM-I/AAAAAAAAACc/yVbU_ab0P3o/s1600/eating+fail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AemeDXoNmSk/TNOnfFtCM-I/AAAAAAAAACc/yVbU_ab0P3o/s1600/eating+fail.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-722977424200230860?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/722977424200230860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/day-in-life-of-teenage-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/722977424200230860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/722977424200230860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/day-in-life-of-teenage-girl.html' title='A Day in the Life of a Teenage Girl'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AemeDXoNmSk/TNOnfFtCM-I/AAAAAAAAACc/yVbU_ab0P3o/s72-c/eating+fail.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-898749753330324944.post-5385920203714047398</id><published>2010-11-03T21:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T21:55:55.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Most Comfortable Fence</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;This is actually stolen from my Posterous blog... but I like it so much, I decided I wanted it to be on this one, since this will hopefully be my main blog. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gee, what's the most controversal topic I can think of? Oh, I know! Religion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was raised atheist but I always believed in God - just kind of  subconsciously in the back of my head. So... I believe in God. I'm not  Christian, though - I mean, God exists, but who decided he was this guy  with a white beard who liked to smite people and had a Son named Jesus?  The Bible was written by men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really into any other religions, either. Islam is too  similar, and Wicca? Uhhhhhhhhhhh... same story. Who decided that God  was&amp;nbsp;a chick who's omnipresent and likes little ceremonies involving  candles and stuff? Sounds human again, except maybe a woman wrote that  one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's what religion really is - opinions.&amp;nbsp;Everyone took the same  idea, and then twisted it to suit their needs. Even atheists are just  people who feel more comfortable in a world where there isn't a God  watching them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;The thing about opinions, though, is that people like to share them&lt;/b&gt;.  While I was quietly plodding along as an agnostic-atheist type, all my  Christian friends would never leave me alone - "Jesus loves you! Jesus  needs you!" When I decided to give Christianity its fair chance and  started researching into the religion, it&amp;nbsp;was the atheist friends' turn -  "God is phony! You'll believe anything!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My conclusion? There is no right answer. I think Jesus is just fine  the way he is - he's got lots of supporters. Personally, I'm not  interested in the apocalypse, or acheiving eternal life - I just want to  live this life. As for atheism, its just another extreme I'm not  interested in - there's just as much proof to either way. I'm not going  to let religious extremists tell me what to think, and I'm not going to  let atheist extremests try either. I'm&amp;nbsp;a fencesitter for life, believing  in some faceless, nameless God - and that's all I need for want. I LOVE  this fence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, maybe becoming Pastafarian is the answer. Flying Spaghetti Monster, here I come. &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/898749753330324944-5385920203714047398?l=theunromantic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/feeds/5385920203714047398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/most-comfortable-fence.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/5385920203714047398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/898749753330324944/posts/default/5385920203714047398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theunromantic.blogspot.com/2010/11/most-comfortable-fence.html' title='The Most Comfortable Fence'/><author><name>Alecia Beth</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
