Do you like music? Me too. It’s so rad! You know what sucks about music though? Music scenes. You know why? Stupid bullshit politics. I can’t tell you how hard my eyes wanna roll when I hear “yeah I used to like that band before they blew up” or my personal favorite “fuck them they’re on a major label now, sellouts.” Yes, 17 year olds who know everything about the world already, it’s super lame to do well enough as a band to pursue music full time or GOD FORBID be able to pay your bills and feed yourself something other than gas station food. (yeah that was a run on sentence, you wanna fight about it?) Obviously if more than ten kids have heard your music at a free show then you sold out, betrayed your roots, blah blah blah. Anyway, what I am getting at is this- DON’T FUCKING WORRY ABOUT WHAT LABEL A BAND IS ON OR HOW MUCH MONEY THEY MAKE OR IF OTHER PEOPLE IN YOUR PARTICULAR MUSIC SCENE LIKE THEM TOO. Like what you like because it’s good or bad, plain and simple. Those of you past the age of 19 need to get your asses off of message boards, stop being afraid of anyone having success, and calm down. Quit worrying about if something falls into hardcore or punk or screamo or emo or whatthefuckever genres you kids are always arguing about. It’s just music, chill out.
Dear Tumblr,
I know that I haven’t really been there for you lately but that’s all going to change now. You will be filled with fun, magical pictures of things that come from my brainz and funny pictures of weirdos doing odd shit. People will like you again and leave notes or whatever shit we do on here. Sorry for neglecting you for so long. I hope you’re ok with an open relationship with instagram. I just can’t quit either of you…
Your Pal,
Ashree Besilly
Does your vagina ever threaten to quit you? Mine has, at least a dozen times. It’s probably very upset with my choices and the lack of attention I give to it. It actually doesn’t even factor into my decision making at all. I can hear it’s faint cries from a distance, “Hey is anybody out there? It’s dark in here… I’m lonely…” I try to ignore it most of the time.
I’ve been single for about 9 months now after a devastating breakup, and I can’t even imagine putting myself through that again. For once in my life I’m not forgetting about myself and I’m actually in my top three priorities now, holy shit! I think about where I want to live, and what I want to do, and what my priorities are. It’s not that the ex was controlling or anything, it’s just that when I love someone I completely forget about myself and make them my first priority. It’s not them, it’s ME.
That’s not to say that being single is super fun all the time though. There are times I don’t have a boyfriend to call when I’m stranded, or I got robbed, or I’m really sick, or I just want a GODDAMN SNUGGLE. I’ll be honest, it sucks sometimes. My vagina’s always yelling at me because it doesn’t have a wiener friend to hang out with, and that can get stressful. I wish I was a person who could be like, “YOU. OVER THERE. Let’s fuck.” I’m not that person though. I don’t wanna sleep with a stranger because COOTIES! And I don’t want to sleep with a friend because AWKWARD! It’s a vicious circle. My brain and my vagina can never agree on anything and their constant bickering gives me anxiety.
The conclusion though of all this rambling, is that at the end of the day, I’m finally doing what makes ME happy. And after all, I have friends to fill the void that the crippling, violent, endless loneliness leaves! Seriously though, it’s OK to be single and make yourself your first priority and focus on your own shit for a while. It’s OK to feel a little lonely sometimes too, because when you finally meet someone again it feels that much better to know you finally have a shot at not dying alone with your cats while you choke on a Cheerio. It’s all gonna be OK you guys.
Dildos,
Ashley
Oh, and P.S.- Your vagina can make all the threats it wants, but it physically can’t quit you. Mine’s tried like a fucking million times. It’s stuck on you forever. So yeah, you’ve got a one-up. Don’t just let it push you around like that.
I guess the most obvious thing society(and ex boyfriends) has taught me is that I need to get a spray tan, wear 12 pounds of makeup, post lingerie pictures of myself on facebook, and do mountains of coke to be attractive and not end up alone. I’d rather be forced to shamefully masturbate in a corner alone forever. If I have to fucking bronze myself everyday just to leave the house and people are afraid to hug me because I look like I’ll stain them, then no fucking way. Not worth it. I’d rather be the sometimes-pudgy, eats a lot of ice cream, mildly funny, slightly scarred, muppet-haired little weirdo that I am. Because that’s me. If you ever see me in a spandex one-shouldered dress with super high heels and a shit-ton of foundation on, aliens have taken over my body and you can decapitate me immediately. I’ll be alone forever before I walk around this town looking like another orange whore.
