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I was Shamed by Shaming Articles

I’ll still accept silly/adorable dog shaming posts, however.

I often find myself completely contradicting my own thoughts and opinions, resulting in total hypocrisy and me feeling like an ass. It’s an unnerving concept to think of because I like to believe that I’m pretty steadfast in my opinions, but certain topics throw me into a total tailspin. Just the other day I reprimanded my boyfriend for talking about work so often as I seamlessly went into a tangent about my own job and freelance work. He called me out on my hypocrisy, but I noticed it while the thoughts were still bubbling around in my mind.

There’s relief in the topics where I know I won’t waiver. Gay and lesbian couples have the right to marry; trans people don’t deserve judgment and should be able to identify however they’d like; women don’t deserve to be criticized for enjoying sex; vaccinations are crucial and not vaccinating your children is an outrageous fad — essentially the theme is that people should be nice and respectful while reserving judgment toward others.

Often my doubts and hypocrisy come into play when people talk about all the different kinds of shaming. Slut shaming, skinny shaming, fat shaming, blonde shaming, gluten shaming (xoJane actually an article about this and I cringed the entire way through)…the list goes on and on, becoming more obscure as the demand increases. If you have a physical or emotional attribute, you bet your ass you can be shamed for it. Just browse through xoJane and search “shaming” where you’ll find a slew of women who are unhappy with how someone treated them. It oftentimes isn’t shaming but people having a conversation where one party felt offended, and rather than stand up to this person, they write passive aggressive articles online to vent their feelings.

Here’s where I feel torn by hypocrisy. When I ask myself how I feel about these issues, I become overwhelmed and can’t come up with a clear answer. I don’t think there’s a need to tell anyone your thoughts on their weight, but then I contradict myself because I also don’t feel like issues like obesity shouldn’t be ignored. My opinions are split as I can see the rationale to both sides of the argument.

This is the sort of controversial article that I’ll get a lot of eye rolls for, but that’s what I get for opening my blog up to the public I guess. I’ve just been feeling lately that there’s too much political correctness going on, which is just an excuse for everyone to play the victim and garner sympathy. I hope for an end to the excessive amounts of “I Was ______ Shamed by ______” articles because they’re petty and obnoxious. Rather than post quality material, shaming articles have become a cop out for writers to build their portfolios and for websites to gain more views on their pages. Here’s to hoping the fad dies out sooner rather than later.

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How I’ve Changed Since Moving to Brooklyn

brooklyn

Since moving to Brooklyn, I’ve noticed that I’ve changed a bit since growing up (read: since college). Some of these changes I’m pleased with while others I don’t particularly care for. I’ve made a list — mostly because I love writing things in a list format, but also because I so desperately want to be seen as a professional blogger, and apparently in 2014 that means compiling lists. AM I BEING TAKEN SERIOUSLY YET?!

  1. My nails (fingers and toes) need to be polished at all times. I don’t know when this became such a priority for me, but I feel so incomplete without some cheap polish thrown on my nails. It’s at an obsessive point where I feel less put together without it now. I never gave a shit before — and yes, I definitely still bite my nails/cuticles, so it’s not like my hands even look that nice. But rest assured, if my nails are chipped, then I have some plans for my next free night.
  2. Cooking is something that needs to be planned. I LOVE COOKING. Do I really do it anymore? HELL NO. I rarely have the time to heat up a microwavable meal let alone cook an entire dish made up of more than one food for myself. Lately I’ve been making more of a point to cook on Sundays or Mondays when I actually have some spare time, but man was I in a cooking slump a few months ago. Even the meals I do cook are pretty minimal; maybe one day I’ll work back up to my old standards of making actual meals I want to share with people rather than the abominations that I currently hide behind in shame.
  3. I know way too much about the construction industry and bookkeeping. Seriously. Seriously. I have friends who work in H.V.A.C. and some that are tapers — most people my age don’t even know what that acronym stands for or how to go about meeting someone who would. I’m well-versed in subcontracts, proposals, purchase orders, change orders, and invoices. I know way more about insurance than I’d ever want to; health, dental, building, subcontractor, COI’s, workers comp — you name it, I know how to deal with it. I’ve mastered the technique of getting difficult clients to pay their bills and can point out which subcontractors are the most annoying when it comes to getting paid (I become irrationally angry with our millworker due to this). The fact that I know what the word “lien” even means disturbs me.
  4. It is way harder to see friends. I like to think I’m pretty good at keeping in touch with people, but damn, adulthood is challenging. Especially if you’re single and all your friends are in relationships, or vice versa — either way, it seems to keep completely flip flopping on me. Guess I’m just not up on the latest trends. Oh how I long for the days when I could walk down the street into a friend’s apartment and just hang out, my only responsibilities of the day being a two hour class and a four hour shift at Friendly’s. And if those friends were busy, then I’d just walk next door and find someone else to impose on.
  5. Owning boots became really crucial to surviving the winter. Let me specify by what I mean by boots: not Uggs and not rain boots. Geez, I have some standards still. Plus I’m just one mispronounced “drawer” away from fulfilling a total Long Island stereotype. When I say boots, I mean the fake leather boots that come up to your shin or the ones that stop at the ankle. I don’t know when it happened exactly, but suddenly I have five or six pairs where I didn’t even want a single pair a little over a year ago. And it became incredibly important to get non-ripped ones once my favorite brown ones (</3) got torn up last winter (damn you, Payless). I have different types and colors — literally every outfit I own can be accompanied with boots. I didn’t feel the need to wear boots in the shitty Binghamton winters, but apparently Brooklyn took me to my breaking point.

Well there’s obviously way more ways in which I’ve changed since leaving Binghamton, but this will have to do for now. Maybe it’ll become something I add to in the future. This post was fun to write, but also feels entirely like what you come to expect someone in their mid-20s living in Brooklyn to produce. Maybe this is growing up. Or maybe there’s just something in the water.

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18 Struggles Only Over-Thinkers Will Understand | Thought Catalog

18 Struggles Only Over-Thinkers Will Understand | Thought Catalog

I don’t really reblog others, buuuuttt this list is actually a VERY accurate compilation of how I approach every day issues and has got me [over]thinking.

It’s such a problem that sometimes I overthink my overthinking, evaluating it and wondering what I can do to fix it. Why is this something I do? How come it preoccupies so much of my headspace? Does this mean there’s something wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? I try to exercise restraint on my mind, but it’s usually a battle my willpower enters with a defeatist attitude. Calming down and relaxing are not remotely feasible until I have processed every single possibility; distractions will only prolong the inevitable scenario, which is me leaving some time to spare as I plunge headfirst into my thought pool.

These nagging, endless thoughts become particularly pertinent right as I’m about to fall asleep. Nice, warm, comfy in bed when suddenly…can people choke on their tongues in their sleep? 

Like…what? Why? Where did you even come from?! My daytime brain is bright and airy but once the sun goes down, it turns as dark as the sky.

Mostly my overanalyzing nature becomes an actual problem when I’m unable to move on. There’s an obsessive compulsive tinge to being an overthinker, especially when there’s just no answer. There’s a reason for everything (Right? Please?!), but when those sneaky, unanswerable questions slither into my mind, I can’t shake them until I can find some sort of response to give. The only requirement of ridding myself of these burdens is to find an answer that makes sense and leaves no doubt that it is the only option. Otherwise it becomes like an unreachable itch; I might forget about it for an hour, a day, a year — but it’ll be back to remind me that I never gave it an ending.

This is my gift and my curse. I enjoy some of the truly insightful and amazing conclusions I’ve come to; I’m able to really flush out my problems and remain levelheaded as I work them out; I see every unflattering side to the situations I find myself in. But sometimes, exploring my own mind scares me more than any irrational fear I may have.

18 Struggles Only Over-Thinkers Will Understand | Thought Catalog.

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