Category Archives: The future

I’m just gunna say it how it is


This will be a post that not many will agree on. They may be just as many, hopefully more that will agree with me on. Let’s hope you are enlightened people. I hope you are. If not, well that’s sad. I want to tell you to kinda of fuck off then… but I won’t, because I believe that you have a right to have an opinion… but people with the wrong opinions, well I don’t like you. I really don’t like you.

Abortion is a right. A fucking right. Your right to picket abortion clinics? No. Shut the fuck up. Write an angry letter to your political official. Start an angry blog. Hey, write your own suicide note in your own blood telling the world how you feel these women are murdering babies. Go on. Do that. In your own home. But don’t make a hard decision harder. You can’t understand until you’ve been in that situation… you can emphasise of course. No one wants to be in a situation like that, but sometimes you make a mistake, something goes wrong. But hell, I don’t want to bring a child into a world where I can’t buy clothes for it. Can’t afford to feed it. I want that child to have everything I didn’t have and more. Your child is the embodiment of the love you have for someone else, or maybe is this being you created out of pure love. That’s a child. You want its happiness. How is bringing a child into a world where all it will know is sadness, poverty and discomfort? I don’t want that. I don’t even want that for my enemies. Do I want children? Sure. I’m an only child. I grew up alone. I like being alone, but I wished as a child for someone to play with. I wish I had a big brother to protect me when I fuck up. I want someone to be there when my parents die, and hold my hand because they understand. But I’m alone. So that’s probably why I act strong. Some say bitchy and outspoken… maybe. But I also know deep down, that I came into this world alone… and I will die alone, so I pick myself up when everything seems to fuck up around me. I want a child, because one day, maybe I’ll be so in love with someone, that I want to create something with that person… a little someone that will one day find a love of their own. Because I know that when I find that someone, and I’ll look into their eyes, they will want the same thing from me. But it will be a choice. Because a child is sort of having a tattoo on your face… you have to be bloody sure you want it. There’s sort of no “backsies”. And that’s why abortion is important. The right to decide when you create this being, and with who. Sometimes you make a child, and you fall out of love… that happens. But that child was created, hopefully at a time of love… sure there are exceptions… there are those people who don’t care. They make babies coz they don’t know what else to do. Maybe it’s expected of them. Who knows. But the right to say no, as a woman is my choice. Sex is fun. No, with the right person, the right chemistry. It’s flipping amazing… but I don’t want to live in fear that every time I am with a guy a baby might be created. Use a condom… go on the pill… whatever works for you. But sometimes mistakes happen. It brakes. You forgot. You may be raped. Who wants to bring up a rapists baby? Have a constant reminder of a horrible moment in your existence? Who wants a father who is an unknown rapist? No one. No one can live with that.

Bringing a child into a world or an environment that is not ready, is not “saving a child”… it’s actually selfish… because you have brought a human being into a world that it won’t thrive or grow in. If you have every read any of Darwin’s books, you will be familiar with his world changing theory of evolution (which isn’t just a theory, it’s fucking reality “SAY NO TO CREATIONISTS YOU MORONS”… and yes I’m looking at you America!)… which means you know all about natural selection. Natural selection is technically no longer applicable to humans, owing to advances in medicine, but it still works on a social and anthropological level. Why do people who start life in richer families generally succeed better? (there are obviously exceptions, I mean look at Albert Camus for starters, but there are many… but rarer). With money, sadly comes opportunities. With opportunities, comes better schools, education, travelling… etc. it opens the child to a better job… a broader mind… better access to food and healthcare etc. This isn’t always true, but it is undeniable that it is a major factor. But it helps. So, if I take myself as an example. I’m a 25 year old student. I finish my studies in about a year and a half. I don’t have a job. I have a small flat. I can barely look after myself… let along a tiny human being. When I want a child, I want to be able to buy it nappies. Food. Whatever. I want it to go to a good school. Get a great job. Meet someone that makes them laugh and smile. I want them to be happy. Can I make a child happy now? Nope. So yes, if I get pregnant now. I’m having an abortion. Yes it hurts. Yes I don’t want to have to make that decision, but if I have to I will… because abortion isn’t murder. Abortion is about making the right choice at the right moment. Bring a child into a world that it can thrive in. Because unlike animals, the weak ones don’t just die… they poison your whole life. It’s sort of like being born with a thorn in your foot. You can still walk, but it fucking hurts. Being born to someone who can’t give a child all it needs, is the same. It won’t always thrive, it will eventually sort of go gangrenous and won’t be the best it could be. It takes someone who is born into hardship to say fuck you and pick themselves up. Look at the people who are born with too much money, or too much love and fuck up because they don’t have the fear to pick themselves up and sort themselves up. Life is about balance. It’s about trying your best to be the best you can, not just for you, but for the people you love and respect.

 

So, make the right choices… because that’s sort of what life is about. But it’s your life. So you make the choices that are the best for you. Don’t attach a rock to foot and jump into the deep end. Jump into the water with armbands on. It’s better to float than sink.

I dedicate this post to CB. Who always talks to me straight. No bullshit. And who always makes the best choices, even when I can’t, they aways give me the benefit of the doubt, and doesn’t judge me when I do go down the wrong road. Thanks.

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Filed under Choice, Culture, Family, Friends, Happiness, Hate!, Hello?, Love, Politics, Risk, Sadness, Sex, Shut The Fuck Up, Society, Sorry, The future, USA

Lock, Stock and Two Pints Too Many


Okie dokes. Where to start today? Difficult I’ll admit. Well. It’s a beautiful and sunny day here, and it can only put a spring in your step and a smile on your face. But, I shall talk today about something darker… what happens when you drink that golden nectar we all call beer (or for me, cider).

Today will continue from the last two I believe, but I can assure you, will be the last on the subject. Why you may say? Ah ha, I suppose like every good fairy tale, it has an ending! But not surprisingly (well for moi at least) not the ending you would desire. But that ladies and gentleman is not a shock, I mean come on, this is Roxy, everyone best friend! The last to be picked for sport etc! But, hey I’m not sad about that, I suppose you get used to that kinda shite anyway.

So, I’m feeling lazy and tired of all the shit to do with life, so I’ll be brief. Some friends of mine and I decided to do a onesie night and visit a few bars. We had copious amounts of gin at my flat, then headed to town. Now, we were very very hammered, so I feel like this probably explains why I went bat-shit crazy after (which for the people that know me, know I don’t do stuff like this, so yeah. Not my usual self!). We spend about two hours in bar C, and we left because there was live music, and I’m afraid to say we did not enjoy it! We then decided to go to bar MP. Mistake my friends would say, I on the other hand think with hindsight this was the only way, because visibly he didn’t have the balls to tell me, and I don’t want to live in wonder land (what pisses me off, is that I didn’t think he was a shit, I mean sure, I knew the guy had baggage (don’t we all?) but I swear I didn’t think he was this much of a heartless git. You will understand after, but holy fuck, I would have loved to say my own damn face, but anyway…) so I suppose at least I was… sure of his intentions (which to clarify here, is to clearly fuck me, lie and lie again, so super dooper Roxy!).

Anyway, so we all walk in, you could hardly miss us, because… I was dressed as a skeleton, one of my mates was a rabbit and the other one the cookie monster… so yeah. It’s not like we could “blend in”. Everyone in the bar was clapping and stuff, so they thought it was funny. We ordered a few pints and sat down. T’s mates came over and said hello (oh yeah, I forgot to say, dickface, or Mr T, was already there, but I ignored him, because, well he’s a big boy, if he wants to say hello he can, I don’t bite.) We had a few laughs… etc etc… I turn my face, and he is literally eating this girls face. I swear to you, all class went out the window, bit… sad really, I mean… seriously I think we are all old enough to know that PDA is a bit sad. Anyway. So, you are wondering what is going through my mind. Ah ha!!!! Well I was like, holy fuck, the dick. Ok fine. At least he’s made his choice, but didn’t have the balls to tell me. Okie dokes. Fine. I shall just enjoy my night anyway.

This is why I’m not totally sad about the whole thing, is because I have friends who love me and will defend me. One of my greatest friends screams “OI, T YOU FUCKING CUNT” across the bar. God Knows if he heard but hot damn does that make you feel good! This is when it gets funny, funny for me, definitely not for him. Now, I’ll remind you, I have never EVER done this, but as I saw him go to the lavatory, I shout “Oi. Dick head.” He pops his head up, and acts… mmm a mix between, drunk, surprised… and shock? No wait… shy… yeah he really hasn’t got balls… never thought about that. Oh well, (that said I usually go for shy guys but hey, maybe I should change hey?) I then (now I have got his attention) to shout something along the lines of, you piece of shit go fuck yourself. I can’t say I remember anyway. He then shuffles off.

I didn’t realise one of his mates heard and asked my friend C, what was wrong with me, she gave him an abbreviated version. (I found out the next day that he wasn’t aware of anything, so I’m thinking they can’t be THAT close. Oops. He said to C something along the lines of, oh well that’s probably girl A (in other words… well he’s got so many girls begging to date him that he has to class them, plan A, plan B…). Now, for people who know me, I have big issues with myself, my family etc but fuck me if I am going to be made to feel like a worthless pile of crap because a guy thinks I’m not good enough for him. So, even though I would of course want to see him again and all that jazz, for respect for myself etc, I can’t. I just can’t. I just hope he finds happiness. Or at least learns not to treat women like shite (although who knows, he may have made a special exception for me and decided to treat JUST me like shit! Who knows).

The thing is, in all seriousness, I don’t wish him ill. I really hope, he sorts himself out, maybe see a Psychologist or something. He has deep rooted problems, he doesn’t seem happy. Now visibly, I wasn’t the girl to help him, but maybe someone else will… but falling into another relationship… would just be a band aid… you can’t be happy with someone if you can’t be happy with yourself. I can attest to that, because I know how much I hate myself. I know why I hate myself, and yet I get up every day and try to be ok. I put on my mask and smile. The thing is, he likes wallowing in his own mess, that he thinks he’s the only one who feels the way he does. That’s called despair, and all I can say, is that everyone feels like that once in a while. So who knows what adventure lies on the other side, but if you don’t try, you can’t find out. As for me, oh well, it’s a shame, I really like like him, but what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger (argh, did I just quote Kanye West? Well… it WAS an expression before he made a shitty song) So… I’ll put that down to experience, and hope that one day it’s my turn for a great guy and a super relationship… or whatever! Until then, I shall… paint, draw, drink, laugh and cry! xxx

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I’m a metaphorical hot-dog… and I’m not sure how I feel about it…


I have been trying to start a blog post for a few days now (since I seem to have some free time)… and I have started writing twice and nada. My brain was visibly not having it. But I now feel as though I have found deliverance, and I have the combination of music and concentration to thank for it.

The school year is finished pour moi and I am contemplating my future. I have passed a state exam, and I have been excepted into the french equivalent to the Royal Academy of Art… excited? I am… but the prospect of another three to five years study is, if I may say so myself a bit daunting. (Some people may think that studying is lovely, and I do love to study… but I have studied. I have been studying for more than five years now. I have a degree in history… as well as history of art… and I have been in prep school for art for a year… and to be completely honest I would greatly like to get a job and pay for myself… and not have to rely on my parents. Some I agree do not have that luck, and I realise I am extremely lucky… but still persists the lagging feeling in the back of my head that is jumping up and down telling me I am a 24 year old student and I should grow the hell up and get a job….

That is why I feel that I am some sort of metaphorical hot-dog… sandwiched in between the things I want to do, and the things I have to do before I can get a job. The real question is that if I were a metaphorical hot-dog… what toppings would I have?

Right now, I am definitely thinking that I’d have some sort of relish… because there is a slightly acidic after taste in my mouth every time I think that I’ll start looking for a job when i’ll be 27 years old… there will probably be ketchup owing to the sugary hope that is giving me the strength to carry on studying… mustard? That is probably what I need to add, I need to spice my life up a tad !

The only thing missing is a light dusting of dried onion slices… the many tears of frustration that will be plaguing the next three years!

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