Tired of Society

Being a girl today is stressful. If you like Starbucks and Uggs, then you're stereotypical. If you're black but like Black Veil Brides and Pierce the Veil, then you're an emo and an Oreo. If you have long hair and you're black, then people naturally assume it's weave. If you have weave, then you're fake and ratchet. If you're promiscuous, then you're a THOT.  If you don't talk to guys and try too save yourself, then you're a prude and a goodie two shoes. If you like a popular boy band, then you're mainstream. If you listen to indie bands and like coffee from obscure coffee houses, then you're a hipster wannabe and try too hard. 

Men wonder why women aren't at the same place as them, more or less ignorant to the fact that it's their faults. I had one teacher tell me that I was being bossy when I was in a group of boys working on an assignment. The boys were being lazy so I assigned roles. I Had somebody look in the textbook and another boy write stuff down. My teacher, a male in his mid thirties, told me that I was being bossy. If I was a boy, I'd be taking initiative and being a leader. What in the actual fuck makes it okay to have double standards like this?!

Please, comment your opinions and share my work with the world. 

  Peace out Girl Scout 

I'M BACK!!!!!!

After my hiatus, I've decided to continue this blog. I realize that my voice is as powerful as I want it to be and after almost going insane, I've come to the conclusion that I'd like to share my opinion. I want to voice my opinion and I don't care if its 20 people reading this post or 20,000. As long as my voice is being heard, then I'm okay. Today, so many people care about numbers and followers and likes that they start to forget their reason for posting something. There are a fuckton of apps with the purpose of getting more followers. To be honest, I could care less.

Right now, I'm glad to be writing again. Peace out Girl Scout.

2 Weeks of Insanity

It's been about two weeks since school ended and I don't really have anything negative to say. The last day, I went to a fair and met up with some of my friends. Mystery Guy was there. I've decided that me and him are better off being friends than two people that fall in love and ride off into the sunset on a unicorn. The following weekend, I went upstate to visit my great aunt, who I haven't seen since my grandfather's funeral, which was three years ago. She took me thrift shopping and now I know why Macklemore felt the need to write a song about them. The thrift shop we went to was next door to a gun range, so when I went into the dressing room to try on the stuff, the gun shots scared the fuck out of me. Then, we went into NYC to visit my other great aunt and that's when shit hit the fan. We met my distant cousin, Kathy and she looked really young for her age. Like, she took the whole 'Black Don't Crack' thing to a whole different level. I thought she was in her mid forties. She was in her sixties. 

We had to wait for my aunt to meet us and I got hungry. We walked down the street to get pizza, because in New York, you can't walk five feet without walking into a slice of pizza. It was okay. Like, I enjoyed it because I'm addicted to pizza but I wouldn't go home and say 'I'm not eating anyone's pizza except theirs.

When my aunt showed up, we went back to her house and they cracked open a bottle of wine. And then shit got real.

Both my mom and dads sides of the family goes hard and I'll get back to that later.  

Long story short, my aunt got fucked up, we missed our train, I walked around Central Park, went to a farmers market, and spent the night in Manhattan. 

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My Weekend

     On Friday, my school had field day and I decided not to go. Field day would've sucked left  butt-cheek and I wouldn't have enjoyed myself at all. Instead, I walked to the corner store down the street from my house and got a bunch of bacon egg and cheese sandwiches. They are so addictive, it scares me. While I was waiting for the "sandwich artist" to finish my sandwich,  I was contemplating what I wanted to drink to go along with my sandwich. Did I want pineapple soda? Did I want an Arizona? Or maybe even a bottle of water? I ended up picking out passion fruit juice because it looked interesting and it just caught my eye. I don't know why or how but it did. And it tasted amazing with my bacon egg and cheese sandwich. Like, I almost cried when I finished because I was craving more and more as time went on. I'm a fiend and I'm not ashamed of it.


    I'm writing this post, listening to some pretty kickass music. Some of the people I'm listening to are Childish Gambino, Lana Del Rey, Jeffree Star , Alanis Morissette, Twenty One Pilots, Black Veil Brides, G-Eazy, Cage the Elephant and Zella Day. I'm not trying to make this post about my playlist, but I'm not going to apologize if it comes off like that. The one thing they all have in common is that they don't write shitty music and try to pass it off as art. They make art better with each song  they produce. Back to my weekend, I watched Orange Is The New Black and let me just say that season three is the shiznit. I'm going as Crazy Eyes for Halloween this year. I just need to get a lock and put my hair into bantu knots and that's it lol. I watched Archer on Netflix and I think that if the whole crazy eyes thing falls through, I'm going as Lana Kane. Cowlneck dress and all.
 
   That's all I have for now. Try something different, watch Netflix and have some "Me Time", you might need it after this long ass school year. Until next time, peace out girl scout.

MELANIE MARTINEZ NEW ALBUM

Does anyone know when Crybaby comes out? Comment below.

MY BIRTHDAY WEEKEND

On Sunday, I celebrated my birthday. It was almost uneventful. I went shopping with my mom on Sunday and on Saturday, I went to 125th street in Harlem with my dad because he was busy on my birthday. We left the house with $100. The roundtrip train ticket to 125th street cost $22 each. That left $56 for clothes and lunch. I get my legs, eyes, smile and crassness from my father. Everything else was either my mom or just me. I look exactly like my mom but I look exactly like my dad at the same time. It's the weirdest thing. I love it and I hate it. I love it because it's proof I'm not adopted but I hate it because whenever we're with family and friends, they always say things like "You look like your mom's twin" or "You're the spitting image of your father." My dad is never afraid to speak his mind. He practically says fuck it about everything. I get that from him. I honestly don't care. Like, for graduation, I want to wear sweatpants, an aeropostale tee shirt and my brown knee high uggs. Like, really, who gives a flying fuck? If anyone has something to say about it, that's their problem not mine. It's really adorable  how some people  feel that their opinion actually matters.

On my walk with my dad, we stopped at a tattoo parlor. He tried to talk me into getting a tattoo of a ladybug or stars or something. He didn't care what my mom would say about it. I did. And I have a fear of needles. And pain. And I want to be and organ donor and a blood donor. He said I didn't have to get one now but maybe later on in life. You should've seen my face. I looked like I was gonna shit a Frisbee.

That's all I have for now. Don't get a tattoo unless your heart is in it, don't give a fuck and plan a day with your dad, father's day is soon. Until next time, peace out girl scout.